Murder In New York
Chapter 10
August 10
0400 Hours
Harlem"Damn it!" AJ stomped up the steps from the Lucky Chance. "Where is she?"
"I don’t know, sir." Rabb said as he followed his CO to where Galindez, still in his uniform, was standing by the car daring any of the neighborhood toughs still up to mess with him or the car.
"Nothing?"
"No, and I don’t think the owner was lying." AJ growled as he got behind the wheel of the car.
"Where next?" Rabb sighed as he climbed in front, Gunny having beaten him to the back seat.
"Well unless we are going BACK to Ada’s apartment, then I guess we…" AJ voice trailed off. "Did she know about The Pit?" His voice threatened Rabb with bodily harm if the answer was yes.
Rabb cursed quietly. "Sir, I didn’t know she would do something this stupid. But the Pit was never really an option. She wouldn’t have gone there first, would she? I mean it was obvious that she hasn’t been here. And the girl living across the hall from Ada swore that she hadn’t seen Ada since the murder." Rabb looked back at Gunny for support, but the Marine was resting his head, eyes closed, on the back of the seat.
AJ just sighed and headed for the strip club.
Considering how late – or early -- it was the three were surprised to see so much activity in front of the club. The silhouette of a naked woman gyrating in neon declared to the entire street just what went on inside. Galindez sat forward and said. "Sir, perhaps it would be better if Commander Rabb and I went in this time."
AJ turned in his seat and asked, "Why, Gunny, you think you need to protect me from the wiles of New York City?" Gunny blushed, but before either could continue, AJ’s phone rang. "Hello? What have you heard, Cass?"
Gunny nudged Rabb and the two of them escaped from the vehicle. Walking up to the front door they were accosted by the bouncer, "Twenty bucks cover." Rabb started to reach for his wallet, "Each." The man added.
Gunny stepped forward, "Go find another sucker, buddy. Come on bro, God, mom really coddled you didn’t she." He laughed at Rabb’s bright blush, but when the bouncer cursed in a language both figured was Russian, he pushed him inside and lowered his voice. "Sorry, sir, just couldn’t see you spending the money for just a look see."
"No, I should have known better. It’s been a while since I’ve been in one of these places. Used to all the time with the guys, you know?"
"Sure, sir."
Girls gyrated on tiny stages throughout the room. Men, black and white, watched with in slack-jawed desperation at women who, for now, were pretty enough. Rabb spared a quick glance, but he was more concerned with trying to peer into the dark recesses of the club, looking for someone who could answer their questions.
A pocked-face man, wearing a polyester shirt open to the waist and pants far too tight for his soft belly walked up, "What are you looking for guys? You see something you like?"
Before Rabb could answer Victor spoke up. "We’re looking for our sister."
The man looked panicked and held up his hands. "Hey, we don’t want no trouble here. We run an honest club. A girl comes in looking for a job, and she’s got a nice body, who am I to say no?" Rabb stepped up and following Galindez’s lead said, "Our sister wasn’t looking for a job. She would have come in looking for some one. A singer who some times hung out here, Ada Marshall." He thought they had hit pay dirt from the way the man’s face completely closed down. "She was here." The man suddenly turned and hurried to the back of the club.
Harm immediately started to follow the man, even though Gunny called insistently, "Rabb! Harm! Sir!" Gunny looked over his shoulder at the doorway seeing it as the correct path to take. «God damn fighter pilots! God damn sailors! God damn it! This is absolutely the worst idea yet. Now I know where Mac got her idea to just go off without thinking.» He sighed and turned back around just in time to see Rabb enter the back room. «The Admiral will have us both up on charges for sure.» Expelling a deep breath, he started off after Rabb.
When he reached the doorway, he half expected to be jumped. This room was darker, even smokier than the front and half again louder. He looked around and just managed to catch sight of Rabb, now between two other men going further into the darkest recesses of the club. Gunny turned around and started toward the front of the bar. He knew that he should have done so before. He had just cleared the door when a man stepped up in front of him. "Not so fast. You’re Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez, aren’t you?"
«Fuck!» Galindez knew there was no point in lying so with more aplomb than he felt he answered, "Yes, I am, and you’re Clark Palmer."
"Well, good." Palmer shoved the barrel of the gun into Victor’s stomach. "We won’t have to waste any time on introductions then. Let’s go say hey to my old buddy, Harmon Rabb." Gunny weighed his chances, but the barrel in his belly persuaded him that he had better just turn around as he was told. "Oh, good, boy." Palmer chuckled. "You know where to go."
Both men walked right by Mary Perkins who was just bending over to serve drinks to two men. Out of the corner of her eye she carefully watched them enter the ‘Employee’s Only’ area of The Pit. She wasn’t sure if Rabb had seen her or not. It wasn’t the reason why she had come in this afternoon and applied for a waitress job. She had taken it upon herself to try and get hired so she could keep an eye out for Ada Marshall. She had checked the FBI data bank, and there were red flags up all over the place on The Pit and its owner, Sergi Karpov.
The pocked-face man who had introduced himself as Nickoli Kusman walked around her, pinched her ass then detailed in Russian what he would like to do to her ass. She had looked him in the eye and shrugged. "Sorry, sir. I don’t speak Polish."
{{You’re a fucking stupid cunt, but you have nice tits and I want that ass.}} "It’s Russian sweetheart." He had slapped her ass and told her she could start tonight at 11:00. She had worked her way through college and then law school as a waitress and she found she could still serve a drink, smile brightly, avoid most of the more aggressive caresses and earn a decent tip. The heels were killing her feet, and she was due a break. She hadn’t seen Ada Marshall, but Joey Mitchell, the boyfriend, stopped in briefly and talked to Kusman.
Mary wished she had set this up through Cassie because it would have been nice for an agent to follow Mitchell. Actually, she was rather surprised to not recognize any Federal agents posing as customers. «Oh hell, it’s not like you know them all. You could be in the middle of a major sting. Oh, yeah, girl, you’re destined for greatness in the FBI.» She didn’t have a lot of time to bitterly consider her career. The place was hopping and she almost missed Rabb when he followed Kusman into the back room. She fought the urge to go to his aid when two of Karpov’s bodyguards grabbed him. She was wondering what to do when the Marine stepped through the doorway. She didn’t know why, but she knew the guy was with Rabb. He then turned around only to turn around again. She studied the man walking directly behind the Marine, obviously prodding the man with something. "Shit." She glanced around, but no one had heard her.
Walking toward the back of the restaurant she waived to one of the other waitress. "Gloria, I’ve got to pee."
"Shuar thang, sweetie. You ain’t had a break all night. You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad."
"Thanks, sweetie." She went to her locker, took her purse out, and carried it with her into one of the stalls. She wasn’t sure if Karpov was paranoid enough to bug the johns, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Dialing Cassie’s cell phone, praying the woman wasn’t asleep or worse, doing the nasty with AJ «Like none of us know!», she was surprised to hear a firm, "Perkins! Where the hell are you? I’ve been dialing your cell for two hours."
Taking a deep breath Mary said cheerfully, "Hey, sis! It’s me, Roberta."
"What the hell? Mary? Are you in trouble?"
"No. Not really, sis. I knew you would be up with the baby, so I thought I would call and give you the good news. I got a job! Now don’t get excited. I know that you and AJ were worried that I would come to HARM. But I found this job waitressing up near Harlem."
"Shit! Perkins are you at The Pit?"
"Yes, yes. I know, but I really need to do this. The job at Palmer Marine wasn’t working out."
"Palmer? Marine? What the hell? Is Clark Palmer there? The real Palmer? You’ve seen him?"
"Absolutely. Look, sis, I’ve got to go back to pushing drinks, these guys get snarky if I’m gone for too long. Don’t worry."
"Do you need backup?"
"That’s a big 10-4, sis."
She closed the phone and stepped outside the stall to find Kusman glaring at her. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
: :
Cassie stared at the phone. "Jesus Christ, could this night get any weirder?"
"What was that all about, Agent Ryan?" Lennie Briscoe demanded.
Cassie gasped in shock and her headache grew by 100 percent. The only thing that could make it worse would be her mother walking into the hospital demanding to know who the hell Cassandra Ryan thought she was, calling Lord Adair over something between the two of them. Frankly, she would almost welcome that. She could take out all her frustrations – of course she would probably end up killing her mother in the process.
As soon as she heard of Webb’s escape she hurried over to the hospital to find the place in an uproar. Patients wandered the halls and Dr. Greenwood, who had arrived only moments before she had, was frantically helping the staff restore order. The lights had come back on an hour later, but that had only given the police, who had answered the first emergency call, a chance to regroup and call in. For once someone was thinking and put the hospital’s name with the case of the cop killer. She reached AJ, told him to find Mac and get back to the hospital and then dialed Jacobs. She was on a two-way conference with her boss and the Director of the CIA when Briscoe and Green had shown up, demanding to see who was in charge and where the hell was Clark Palmer – his attorney be damned. Both of them gave her the once over, but they were too concerned with their own business to remember her from the other day. She stood quietly near the wall and eavesdropped on them out of her free ear and was able to quietly report to both men. Jacobs had left it up to her what to do and say to the two increasingly agitated detectives.
"We want to see him and assure ourselves that security has not been breached," Green demanded.
Dr. Greenwood had stalled as long as he could but finally, Cassie had ended her call and approached the two detectives. "Problems, gentlemen?" She had shown her identification to both of them.
After they had identified themselves to her, Briscoe demanded, "What’s the FBI doing here, Agent Ryan?"
"Checking on a friend. Why?"
Briscoe and Green exchanged glances. Green spoke up, "Your friend have name?"
"Yeah, he does." She smiled.
"Cute. You know, I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Detective Green." Briscoe didn’t take his eyes off Cassie.
"Yeah, me too, Detective Briscoe." Green nodded sagely, not really sure where his partner was heading but ready to follow him.
They played ‘who’s going to blink first’ for a moment but finally Green tugged on his partner’s arm. "Come on, Briscoe, lets call Van Buren and see if she wants us to strong arm our way up there." Cassie thought they were gone when she took the call from Perkins. Now the shit was really going to hit the fan.
"Fuck it," she gritted out. "Stay and listen, but don’t even think about getting in my way boys, or, trust me, you won’t be able to get jobs as crossing guards in Flatbush."
Briscoe started to say something equally cocky, but Green touched his arm and shook his head. ‘Wait,’ he mouthed.
She punched a speed dial number. "AJ? Tell me exactly where you are."
"Outside of The Pit wondering if I should go inside and rescue the flyer and the Marine from the strippers. Why, Cassie?"
"Perkins just called. Evidently she’s inside, something about getting a job there this afternoon." She paused, looked Green right in the eye and sighed. "She said Clark Palmer is inside."
"Palmer, you mean Webb?"
"No, AJ." Cassie never took her eyes of the increasingly angry cops. "If she meant Webb, she would have said Webb. She said Clark Palmer and something about a Marine. She also mentioned Rabb – I think. She put emphasis on the word Harm, so I’ve got to believe she thought she was being over…wait a minute I’ve got another call coming in." She clicked a button and saw Perkins’ number flash but after being undercover for too many of her 18 years with the bureau, something made her cautious. Hitting the talk button she answered in a nasally twang that she hoped sounded like Brooklyn. "Bobbie? Is that you again? Damn, I just got the baby down to sleep…what? Who? No, you have the wrong number."
She hit end then flash, "AJ! Someone just called me using Perkins’ phone."
"I’m going in." AJ opened his car door.
"Don’t you dare! Damn it, Admiral Chegwidden!" Briscoe and Green’s eyes grew nicely round. "I’ll send in locals, but don’t you dare go in there alone." She was already out the door, the two cops on her heels. "AJ, I’m on my way, please wait," she whispered as the line went dead.
"We’ll drive, Ryan. In back." Briscoe held the door for her more out of wanting to make sure she got in rather than in any courtesy.
"Talk to us." Green reached down and pulled the red light from the floor and placed it on top of the roof outside his window. It was nearly 4:30 and the streets were just beginning to wake. "Do we need backup?"
"Yeah. Call it in and tell them officer needs assistance." At Brisco’s raised eyebrow she snapped, "Agent Mary Perkins was there undercover. She called me and said that the man we are looking for…"
"The cop killer, Palmer? He escaped didn’t he?" Green said quietly.
"Look, Detective, it’s complicated. Yes, the man you know as Palmer is no longer at the hospital. Where he is or how he got out is as much a mystery to us as it is to you."
"Who’s us? And who’s this ADMIRAL Chegwidden? Isn’t Chegwidden Palmer’s attorney? And what the hell do you mean, ‘the man we know as Palmer?’ You just…" Briscoe was firing questions at her so fast it was obvious he didn’t want any answers.
Green put the radio mic back in its holder. "Damn. Harlem is jumpin’ tonight."
"What?" Cassie and Briscoe demanded.
"Seems some white couple went berserk on the Red Line’s "number 3" train up near 125th. Man and a woman took on this big bruiser – also white – then ran off down the tracks. The dispatcher doesn’t have the whole story yet. The only reason why they know anything is that a bus driver, on his way home, got off the train and sneaked upstairs. Evidently, according the bus driver, there’s a gang of Russians waving guns and firing automatic rifles like they are trying to start another revolution. They haven’t been able to contact the conductor at all. Transit cops are out of their league on this one. Hell, the SWAT team might be out of its league. I just hope there aren’t any citizens killed. The newspapers, the mayor, the chief, and God knows who else will be all over this like a wino on a half bottle of muscatel."
Cassie fell back and chewed her lip. "Damn it." She pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number. "Yeah, it’s me. It’s going down the toilet and I think I know where Webb is – or was. No, I’m on it – kind of. Look, sir, I’m doing the best I can. Two locals are driving me up there now, but…oh hell, I need everybody you can get Kelly to send, make sure they have riot gear on."
: :
AJ had pulled the car down the street and left it to walk back toward the club. After the way she called him Admiral Chegwidden, he figured the entire house of cards they had built was tumbling down. He had no idea how or why Agent Perkins was inside, but he couldn’t just wait. Not if Rabb and Galindez were in danger. Carefully he moved his gun so he could reach it better. The bouncer at the door just glared at him but let him inside. AJ scanned the room and saw neither of his men nor Agent Perkins. He sat down at the end of the bar closest to the door where he could see most of the room and yet still have an easy avenue of escape. "Whiskey, neat."
The bartender slapped the glass down, poured the drink from a bottle of whiskey whose name AJ didn’t recognize. "Ten bucks." AJ sipped the watered down drink and grimaced but said nothing. He faced the girls gyrating on various platforms through out the room but his eyes were honed in on the activity near a doorway to the back; customers were leaving, grumbling like they had been told to leave.
He considered his options, and with insight born of having known both men long enough, AJ pictured the scene in his head. He just wondered what had made the top gun march through that door. «Damn it, Gunny! Why didn’t you come out and get me?» Admiration for the Marine’s loyalty warred with anger with both men for getting into trouble and not gaining anything for it.
No way would it make any sense for him to go back there. He sighed, tossed back his drink and stood up. One of the men guarding the back watched carefully as AJ made a point to eye the women before stepping outside into the last of the night still garishly lit by red and blue neon and an all night diner down the block. He was five feet from his car when a car shot down the street toward him.
: :
Rabb twisted his head as far as the ropes binding him to the straight back chair would allow. The office was very nice with a sofa on one wall and heavy desk against the back wall facing the door. The man behind the desk was talking quietly with Palmer. Gunny, who was tied to the chair next to Rabb, hadn’t said a word when Clark Palmer pushed him into the office. They had exchanged exasperated glances and waited for Palmer or the man they had heard Palmer address as Sergi decide their fate. Both prayed that the former SEAL waiting for them would have more sense than either of them seemed to possess.
Rabb heard the sounds from the other side of the door and he looked at Gunny, who just shrugged.
"Let me go. I told you I was callin’ my sister. What is with you people anyway?" The woman’s voice practically shouted until the sound of a slap shut her up. The door swung open and a man pushed Mary Perkins into the room. "Hey. Whoa. What the hell is going on here?" She stared wide-eyed into Harmon Rabb’s eyes willing him not to say anything. "Who are these guys?"
"You don’t know them?" Clark Palmer asked smoothly.
"I don’t know nothin’, Mister."
"Don’t you?"
"Fuck no. I don’t know shit. I don’t see shit. Please let me go back to work."
Palmer looked down at Sergi. "Play it for her." Old, almost gaunt, his gray hair wisped around his skeletal-like head, Sergi glared back at Palmer, obviously not liking his tone. "Play it." Palmer demanded. He turned his gaze back to Mary. "My friend here has interesting tastes. He likes to listen to women go to the bathroom."
The sound came from a speaker high on a bookcase behind the desk.
"Hey, sis! It’s me, Roberta."
"No. Not really, sis. I knew you would be up with the baby, so I thought I would call and give you the good news. I got a job! Now don’t get excited. I know that you and AJ were worried that I would come to HARM. But, I found this job waitressing up near Harlem."
"Yes, yes. I know but I really need to do this. The job at Palmer Marine wasn’t working out."
"Absolutely. Look, sis, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry."
"That’s a big 10-4, sis."
Mary almost wept with momentary relief. She had been right. The room had been bugged. "Yeah, so? I called my sister. I knew she would be worried about me. I’ve been staying with them out in Brooklyn."
Palmer snapped his fingers. "Give me her cell phone."
The man tossed the phone to Palmer and the former DSI agent studied it. Mary looked again at Rabb and tried to communicate that help was on the way. Rabb spoke up. "Hey, Palmer, what are you going to do, kill every waitress and dancer in the place?"
For the first time since the two bodyguards had dragged him in here, the man behind the desk spoke. "Why not. I can have more here tomorrow, and no one will notice."
"Hey, Sergei?"
Sergei, death in his eye gritted out, "Yes, MISTER Palmer?"
If Palmer was chastised or even embarrassed, he hid it well. "You always hire waitress who call the FBI?"
"I told you, I called my sister. She lives in Brooklyn. Ask him!" Mary pointed at Kusman. "He called her too!"
"That’s right, Palmer. I hit redial and some lady answered and said I woke up her kid." Kusman laughed sourly.
"You’re not real bright are you Nikki?" Palmer said calmly.
"Look, you asshole…"
Sergei Karpov’s fist hit the table. "Shut the fuck up." He glared at Palmer. "You have a point to make, make it."
Palmer stuck the phone in front of Karpov. "Watch." He hit a button. "See, the last numbers she called. The first two, I don’t recognize, but look, keep scrolling down.
Mary almost groaned out loud. She had forgotten that feature where you could see the last five numbers you called.
Rabb saw the look on her face and he glared at her, ordering her to run if she could.
"Bitch!" Karpov spat and started to rise from his chair.
Just then the door burst open.
{{Boss! Demitri just called. They lost Webb. Some bitch followed Mikulai onto the train. Maybe a cop. She had a gun.}}
{{Where did they lose him? Is the cop dead?}} Karpov rounded his desk.
{{At the 125th Street station. He says they’re looking for them down the tracks. The girl ran away with him.}}
{{I want him! I want her! Send men to the 129th Station.}}
The man paled and started to say something else but thought better of and left the room. Karpov looked at Palmer who was glaring down at Rabb. "Does he know where Webb would have gone?"
"Hell, no. Harmy boy doesn’t know anything about Webb, do you buddy? Webb can’t stand the sight of him, now." Palmer slapped the back of Rabb’s head. "Harm’s a regular fuck up, aren’t you, buddy? Now your friend here is going to pay for it." Palmer raised his gun and placed in the middle of Gunny’s forehead.
"Palmer, no!" Rabb cried. "I’m the one you want."
"Yeah, buddy, you are, and you are going to suffer so bad."
"Get it over with, Palmer," Karpov demanded.
Mary took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. Kusman fell back in surprise, and even Palmer turned in amazement. That’s all Mary could hope for; she swung out and caught Kussman on the chin. Palmer took a shot at her, but Gunny and Rabb kicked their legs out at the same time, each striking one of Palmer’s knees, causing him to fly forward, losing his gun. Kusman grabbed at Mary, who surprised him even more, by head butting him. But Palmer recovered quickly and reached the gun.
"Mary, look out!" Rabb called just as the outer door opened again.
"Boss! Holy shit! Boss, there’s cops everywhere. Front and back! What do we do?"
: :
Cassie jumped out of the car, before it came to a stop. "Where did you go? You went in there didn’t you!" She glared up into his face. "Are you crazy?"
AJ didn’t answer her. He just looked down and shook his head in amazement. It never ceased to amaze him how she fought head on, full out. He looked past her to the two men standing there. "Gentlemen. We meet again."
"Yeah, only you got promoted since we last met." Green growled.
"No. I still have just two stars. Now, I’ve got two people who went inside over an hour ago looking for Colonel MacKenzie."
"Colonel!" Green whistled. "What the hell does that make Rabb?"
"Dog meat when I get through with him." AJ said.
"What happened, AJ?" Cassie was thoroughly embarrassed by her outburst. «He was a SEAL. He’s a two star admiral and the JAG of the Navy. You have to stop talking to him like he is an errant two-year old. It makes you look stupid!»
"Hell if I know." AJ sighed. He had no intention of sharing his insight into the character of Harmon Rabb. "But we have to get them out of there, now."
"I suppose you didn’t see Perkins when you went inside," Cassie said softly.
"No. But I know where they are." He quickly described the doorway. "We’re going to have to reconnoiter."
"We? Admiral, beggin’ your pardon…" Briscoe began, but AJ was already heading down the sidewalk toward an alley he had spotted. "Son of a bitch! Green stay here with her and make sure the back up knows we’re back there and not to shoot us."
AJ and Briscoe made their way down the debris-strewn alley. "You ever do anything like this before, Chegwidden?" Briscoe demanded softly.
"Oh, once or twice." AJ kept looking around them. There were two vapor lights over two different doorways. One was marked "Hershel’s Fabrics" the other "Bodicks."
"The bar’s service entry must be in back."
The two men made their way to the cross alley. "There." AJ whispered. But before they could advance, he felt his phone vibrate and pulled Briscoe back to the other alley. "Yeah?" He listened then whispered, "Okay. We’ll wait here for some of them."
"What?" Briscoe hissed.
"Five agents led by SAC Kelly arrived at the same time four of your squad cars pulled up. We’ve got our reinforcements."
The raid, once everyone was in place, went quickly. AJ, Briscoe, two cops and an agent burst through the service entrance in time to hear a shout and one gunshot. Following the sound, they burst into the office to find Rabb struggling, his arms still tied to a chair, to reach Mary Perkins. She was writhing on the floor, clutching her shoulder. Galindez sat there pulling ineffectively on the ropes holding him.
Rabb looked up at him. "Help her, sir! That bastard Palmer shot her. She saved Gunny’s life."
"That right, sir," Gunny agreed as Briscoe ran around to untie first Rabb and then Gunny.
The agent turned and yelled, "We’ve got an agent down! Get the first aid kit until the ambulance gets here."
Cass burst into the room, followed by other agents. "Perkins!" She started to kneel next to Mary, but Rabb was already there cradling the woman in his arms.
"You little idiot. What were you thinking?" He whispered in her hair, the fear and guilt evident on his face.
"Didn’t wan’ him to kill your friend," Mary managed. She had never been shot before, and it sure as hell wasn’t like what she expected. The pain seemed to light a fire throughout her body. "Hurts."
"I know it does, baby. Just hold on."
Cassie looked at AJ and mouthed, "Baby?"
AJ shrugged and thought «Here we go again.»
Harm tried to sooth the agent while a member of the SWAT team worked a pressure bandage over the wound to stop the flow of blood. "Hang in there, Agent. The ambulance is a block away."
"Cassie." Mary panted.
"I’m right here, Mary. Don’t try to talk."
"Got to. Heard them."
"Heard what, Mary." AJ knelt down.
She tried to make eye contact with everyone, but her vision was beginning to blur and she knew she was going to pass out. "Know where Webb is."
Chapter 11
August 11
Under the streets in Harlem
0930He rested against the stone wall and gazed into the darkness. Her head lay on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her. They had only meant to wait until it was safe before trying to find a way out of the subway tunnel, but as the adrenaline subsided, their bodies gave way to the exhaustion and they had fallen asleep clutching each other. He had slept fitfully waking at each sound and sometimes jerking awake from the images that invaded his dreams. Scraps of memories were returning; a jumble of puzzle pieces he couldn’t seem to fit together. Lurid flashes of a man he thought he knew mowing down people on a street Webb thought was in Bosnia, interspersed with that same man looking upon him with gratitude whispering "Merry Christmas, Clay." The same man, now wearing a blue uniform with gold wings above his heart
"Did you know the Chinese were going to kill our people?"
"Absolutely not. If we had we would have stopped them"
"How do we know you are not lying to us now?"
"I'm under oath, Commander."
"Did Commander Stoechler ever leak any information?"
"He did not. He was an exemplary officer in every respect."
Webb tried to sort out the memories, he whimpered as the pain tried to overtake him, but her arm across his chest hugged him and he inhaled the scent of her hair and he remembered something else. She was standing before him naked. He was naked too. Water cascaded over them. «Shower. We’re in a shower. Where?» She reached out for him, running her hand up his chest. His hand trailed up smooth skin so soft and warm under his touch. Her nipples were hard, and her mouth was slightly parted. «Oh God, Sarah.» Her lips felt so good on his. Her tongue thrust against his lips, and he opened his mouth sucking her inside, pulling her close so that their bodies aligned perfectly. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, his straining erection caught between their stomachs. She lifted her leg, trailing her foot up the back of his calf. He brought his hand down to help place it just so. Stepping back just enough to free his cock, he looked down and watched as she took it in her grasp and began to stroke him in preparation. Now his whimper became a groan.
The head against his chest moved and he opened his eyes to stare down into her deep chocolate brown pools. They smiled encouragingly, and she moved a little more until their lips truly joined. «Oh God, I want her so much.» Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her until she was straddling him. "Sarah?" He whimpered when she pulled back and gazed into his eyes.
Sarah MacKenzie looked down into her lover’s eyes and thought perhaps she saw some real knowledge of who she was. "Yes, Clay?"
"You really do know me?"
"Yes, Clay." She hugged his head to her breast. "I really do know you, and I really do love you, Clayton Webb."
His name made him shudder and he tried to push her back but she held him tighter still. "Tell me," he whispered.
She pulled back then and considered him. "Anything."
"Why are they trying to kill us?"
"I don’t know, darling."
"Did he send them?"
"Who, Clay?"
"The bad man. The man who pretended to be my friend. The man who killed all those people."
Mac took a deep breath. "Who, Clay? Say his name."
She held on to his shoulders and moved a bit. She had felt his erection and wanted to relieve some of the pressure that she was placing against him, but at her request it became unnecessary. More than just his arousal seemed to shrivel and she knew she was losing him. Taking his face in his hands, she forced him to look at her. "It will be okay, Clay. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Say his name." She had no idea if Greenwald would appreciate what she was about to do, but Greenwald wasn’t here. The Admiral wasn’t here; it was up to her. She needed her spy back and functioning if they were to escape from this place alive.
Webb saw her determination, but he also thought he saw concern and even love in her eyes. He took a deep breath and tried. "H-h-harm-on R-r-ra…" He couldn’t, the anxiety was winning. He began to shake even more and he tried to fling her from him, but she moved closer and gently brought her lips to his for a moment.
"It’s okay. Listen to me. I’m going to tell you a story. It’s all true. You do know that I would NEVER lie to you, right, Clay?"
That truth he saw clearly. He nodded and she began. "It all started nearly eight years ago."
And as she reminded of him of their first meeting he closed his eyes and tried to fit himself into her memories. Sometimes they were clear and crisp.
"As you say in the Marine Corps, there is no such thing as an ex-Marine."
"Or an ex-CIA agent"
"I always knew you were more than just an Assistant to the Secretary of State, Clay." She whispered after she had finished reminding him about her Uncle Matt. "Remember, you met Harm then too. He didn’t do anything bad to you."
"He didn’t seem to like me much." All Clay could remember was the tension between them all. "There was someone else there too. He played a trick on me."
Mac tried to hide her smile. "No he didn’t. You knew what he was doing…didn’t you?"
Clay tried hard to remember. He and another man, younger, chubby, wearing a uniform. They were surround by blinding heat. He was looking up into the sun.
"All I'm doing is going blind."
"Well, that's why they stopped using it, sir."
Webb opened his eyes in surprise. "Lieutenant Roberts. I remember him. He, he…" A few more pieces of the puzzle became clearer though he had no context yet.
"A good operative never takes a fight that someone else is willing to take for him"
"How do you sleep at night?"
"On the right side"
Webb was getting excited. "Tell me more," he demanded.
She told him of a mission they helped him with. "Remember Clay, the Sudanese Embassy? I knew you liked me then."
"I did?"
She nudged him playfully. "You bought me a dress."
He closed his eyes and tried to remember, but this time was harder because the man was there. His breathing increased, and she could tell he was upset. But she let him work through it.
"You don’t even know my size"
"36-24-26, 5’8", plus 130 pounds"
"120 Thank you very much !"
"You were mad at me. He was mad at me."
"What happened to your dress? That's government property."
"So bill me."
"Webb next time you're thinking about asking us for help... Don't !"
"No, Clay. He was just tired and scared." She sighed. "You two are always getting each other in and out of trouble. You helped break him out of jail and prove he was innocent of murder. He saved your life when we thought you were dead. You saved his life on a street in Baltimore. Remember?" She held her breath praying she hadn’t gone too far. His eyes closed. She felt his body go rigid. His lips parted and she could hear his labored breathing.
"Don’t want to think about that. He was there."
"Who was there, Clay?"
"Rabb."
"That’s right. Rabb saved your life. Remember the other man?" It was all she could do to hold him down. «Damn it! I went to far.»
"No!" he cried and gripped her wrists. "No! No! No!" She pushed their hands back until she could grip his face.
"Clayton! Look at me! It’s all right. It’s just you and me now. Don’t think about it anymore. It will be okay. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ll keep Palmer away from you."
Webb tried hard to shut out the memories, but they were there, the horrible visions of death flashing before his eyes, the screaming, and the smells – blood and worse. He barely heard her over the noise in his head. But he felt her lips on his face, kissing away the tears. "Don’t. You don’t love me. You love him. I remember. You loved him. He is bad and you loved him."
She gasped and sat back. How did she deal with this? How did she explain her relationship with Rabb, how it had grown and changed and flourished as friendship. She took a deep breath and in a cold voice demanded. "Stop it!"
He couldn’t remember her talking to him that way before. Not even that time in Columbia, when she made fun of him because he didn’t know how to use a gun. Of course he had known how to use a gun, he was trying to hide from her. "You didn’t know," he whispered. Suddenly, he remembered the way he used to act around her and Rabb and Roberts and the others. Before he had told them. Told them? Told them what?
Thinking he was focused on her relationship with Rabb she said calmly. "I know a lot of things, Clay. I know that Harmon Rabb is a good man, and I know that I love you. I have loved you for a while."
He wasn’t paying attention to her though. He was so close. What was it?
"Well, what do we have here? You kids slumming?"
Mac shuddered and he sensed her fear. It helped to snap him out of his funk but he also lost hold of the memory. A memory that was probably very important. He looked into her eyes and the need to protect her overwhelmed the sense of jealousy, fear and betrayal. Carefully, he eased her off him even though he felt her reluctance to remove the barrier between him and the voice behind them. He struggled to stand up, but her weight had put his legs to sleep. The sharp tingles felt good after the pain in his head.
Together they faced the man who had taunted them. He was large, towering between them and the light they hadn’t even questioned before it disappeared behind him. "Who are you?" Clay demanded.
The deep voice rumbled a laugh. "Cocky little shit aren’t you? Crying like a baby one minute and then pretending you’re a man."
"Leave him alone." Mac stepped to Clay’s side. "We’re not hurting anybody. Just go away and leave us alone." She saw the shadows move behind him and fear began to arise anew. «Oh shit. Why didn’t we just take him back to DC? I hate this damn town!»
"Oh, ho! Lettin’ the little lady fight for you, girlyboy?"
Mac almost groaned as she felt Webb stiffen beside her.
Webb knew they had to prove themselves to this man. He wasn’t sure why he knew it, but then he also couldn’t figure out why, even though he could protect her, she could also protect herself. Another man – an Al-Qaeda terrorist – who held a knife to her throat had learned the hard way that the two of them could work together. He reached out and took her hand and gave it a squeeze, but kept his eyes on the looming shadow. "Mister, I have little doubt that you could probably kill me with your bare hands – though not without me hurting you in the process, but you might find that the two of us will give you a run for your money." He grinned at the gasp of surprise he heard next to him. "I mean you are one big son-of-a-bitch. Fair’s fair. You against the – what did you call me – girlyboy and…a Marine Colonel?" He had heard Greenwald call her that but it had never really registered before now. That recognition nudged a whole lot of pieces to the puzzle together. «If The Incredible Hulk here doesn’t kill me, I might figure it out, yet.»
Sarah forgot to breath. Clay obviously didn’t notice the people moving behind their tormentor. They should be thinking about running, perhaps pushing through that grate again. «Surely the Russians have passed us now.» She finally spared a moment for the space they were in. She couldn’t see much. There was some kind of light behind the giant. And she noticed the bounding beams from flashlights. «Surely Clay sees them!» Through their clasped hand she felt his resolve and taking a deep breath she vowed «We’ll go down fighting, together.»
The rumble started low and deep, finally erupting in a gasping breath. "Cocky and smart. So, Miss Marine Colonel, you think you and the little guy can take me?"
Mac thought quickly. "If we have too. We’ve already done it once tonight. The blood on my shirt isn’t mine."
"Blood? Bennie!"
"Yeah, Pete."
"Bring me your flashlight." The light blinded her hand she tried to shield her eyes from its glare. "Damn, that’s a lot of blood."
"He bled a lot."
"You really a Marine?"
"I’m really a Marine Colonel."
"Who’s girlyboy here?" He played the light over Webb.
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. The shadow moved closer and the light returned to her eyes. "I asked you a question, Marine Colonel."
Webb stepped between them. "She told you who she is. You want to know about me, ask me."
"Okay, girlyboy. Who are you?"
The answer bubbled up, and before he could stop it he said, "That’s classified."
"Oh, Clay." She groaned. The shadow loomed and Clay feinted to the right out of the light. She ducked back, felt the whoosh of air as the light arced across the cavern seeking its target.
An "oomph" and a grunt of pain came near and she sidestepped as the giant stumbled forward. The light dropped and bounced across the garbage on the wet bricks that formed the floor. As he moved, the light from far across the space showed a least a dozen people moving toward them.
Webb danced behind the man, ready but unwilling to hit the man until he faced him again. "Come on Pete. You and me."
"Clay! Behind you." He felt the pain explode in his head and before he blacked out he heard her scream. "You bastard!"
Mac rushed forward and pushed the little man who had hit Clay with a flashlight out of the way. "Cowards!" She turned to the giant and spat out. "Big man! Goad him and taunt him and then when he fights back you let your creeps protect you. You’re the damn girlyboy!"
"Shut up!" Pete yelled, limping forward. The little shit had hit hard and dirty. He hadn’t seen fighting that that since ‘Nam. He pulled the woman back, «Marine Colonel? Damn!» and knelt down and felt for a pulse. "Shit. Tommy can’t hit worth a damn. Bennie bring her with us." He picked up the unconscious Webb. "Come on. We’ll take him to Doc."
Bennie didn’t look like he was out of his teens. He was small, dark and walked with a decided limp. Mac would have followed them regardless; she figured Bennie was just along to make sure she didn’t step where she shouldn’t. Sure enough, the one time he touched her he pointed to a deep hole that his grasp and slight tug had kept her from falling into. "Thanks." She smiled at him, hoping to make a friend. He just shrugged and pointed for her to continue. As she stumbled along trying to keep up with Pete, trying to see how badly Clay was injured, she remembered her one guilty pleasure in college. She had studied so hard to please her Uncle Matt – she didn’t dare let him down, but every Tuesday night she planted herself in front of the television and watched Beauty and the Beast. She had scoffed at the premise but adored the story. Now she was faced with an army of people moving her and her lover through tunnels deep under the streets of New York.
The reality, of course, was nothing like the television show. The tunnel widened to a large area. While it had been policed and the garbage removed, the hovels that took up the space looked much like many a city street when night fell. Large cardboard boxes, most with the words Maytag or Amana on their sides, served as the homes to a ragtag group of people who hardly paused in their own lives to glance at the parade that passed by them. Several small fires, many of them contained by ancient trashcans, added a little light but very little warmth. The intermittent rumble of trains seemed to shake the entire cavern. Bennie must have noticed her cringing because he said in a hoarse voice, "Wait until rush hour."
"How do you stand it?"
"Because we have to."
They stopped in front of an access cover that one of the men had already opened. As if he was carrying a bag of groceries instead of a full-grown man, Pete ducked inside. Mac followed and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Looking around she saw a ventilation grate. «God. There must be a really awful restaurant up top.»
"Let me guess? You were expecting Father’s Library?" The woman might have been thirty – or eighty. Her hair was white and skin tags filled the area between her cheek and eye on the right side of her face. But while her tone was harsh, there was concern in her eyes. "Set him down on my bed, Pete."
With out a word Pete obeyed.
"What happened to him?"
Mac didn’t say a word, but went to kneel next to Webb. The bed was really just a thick pallet resting on some kind of wooden frame. The covering wasn’t very clean, but the room was warm and dry. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she stepped into the warmth. "Are you a real doctor?"
"Me. Hell no. I was a nurse for a while, before I started stealing drugs. Move out of the way and let me look at him."
Mac reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped back, only to bump into the solid wall that was Pete. "Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?" she whispered. "We wouldn’t have bothered you."
"Yeah, that’s what the undercover cop said to us when we were under the Bowery." He breath smelled of garlic and onions and Mac shuddered at the contact but she made herself stand firm, keeping an eye on Webb as the former nurse prodded and checked him out.
"He’s a junkie," the woman said.
"No he isn’t!"
"He sure acted like a nutcase. Taking me on like that. I could have killed him without breaking into a sweat." Pete said.
"Yeah, sure. Big man."
"He sucker punched me."
"Bullshit. Besides, at least he took you on all by himself. I didn’t step in and hit you on the head. I could have you know."
She felt the anger rise in the man and braced herself. "You don’t understand. This is the last chance at survival for most of us."
"Okay. I’m not here to make any judgment. I’m only here because we’re trying to survive too."
A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. "Who is he, and what kind of trouble are you bringing down on us?"
She tried to jerk away, but Pete held her firm. "Let go of me."
"Tell me. Are you his bodyguard? You two seemed pretty close or is that just part of the service?"
She whipped around and demanded. "What?"
"Come on. Cocky little shit like that. What is he, some kind of diplomat who took a couple of self-defense courses? You watchin’ his back? Maybe givin’ a little extra." He staggered back, rubbing his jaw. "Damn, you hit like a Marine."
"Fuck off." She turned around and demanded. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Well, I don’t think he has a concussion, but his eyes sure look weird. Hell if I know." The woman sighed and stood up. "He’s got a nasty bump and a bunch of needle marks on his arm. You tell me he isn’t a junkie, then what are they from?" She held up Webb’s arm.
Mac took a deep breath. The glare on the woman’s face was as nasty as Pete’s. She would have to tell them something. "He’s a major in the Army. «Not a lie, they don’t need to know he’s in the Reserves now.» He’s in intelligence. A man, an old enemy kidnapped him and tortured him. Made him believe awful things. He escaped and I’m trying to help him remember." «Please let that be enough.»
"This old enemy? He gonna come lookin’ for you and your friend?"
Mac wanted to lie. She needed Clay up and mobile, but she couldn’t bring trouble on these people without at least warning them. "Where you found us? We got into the cavern back there through an air grate inside of a old equipment storage room." She thought about the heavy metal spool that had been propped against the door. So heavy that neither she nor Clay could have moved it alone. "You put that weight against the door, didn’t you?"
"Yeah and we locked it too. Didn’t keep you out."
"Well when you’re being chased by half the Russian Mob, you find hidden resources and strengths."
"Russian Mob!" Pete backed away from her. "Terrific. Just fucking outstanding."
"Look," Mac implored. "I’m sorry, but we didn’t ask for you to pick on us. We would have found our own way out."
"Yeah right. You don’t have a clue…"
The groan from the bed stopped his tirade. Mac pushed by him and knelt on the floor next to the cot. "Clay? Honey? Please, it’s Sarah."
"Sarah? Shit that hurts."
"I know, Clay. Open your eyes."
"Don’ wanna." He said petulantly even as he cautiously opened one eye. "What happened?"
"What do you remember, Clay?"
"Fuck." He groaned and tried to sit up, but the blinding pain pushed him back. "Fuck. Where is the bastard, I’ll kill him again."
"Kill who, Clay?"
For just a moment it had all been crystal clear, the limo, rough hands grabbing him only a block from his apartment. The needle jabbing into his arm; his fooling…fooling… Then the terror returned but this time he fought it, struggled against the visions. "Movies. He showed me movies. Rabb killing people. Rabb’s never killed anyone like that. He couldn’t do that. My mother…Oh God, Sarah. What did he do to me?"
"We don’t know, Clay. How did you escape?"
He thought hard but the images were jumbled again. He was lashing out with something, heard the grunt of pain. He was wet, but then he was clothed but what he wore kept changing, he was alone running up stairs and out into an alley, but then he was running down stairs being pulled by someone who kept saying ‘Ada’s not going to like it we’re late.’ «Ada? Who is Ada?» Piano music and a real dive. A black woman slapping him. ‘You stink, and you’re a mess. Give me some money! Give me your arm.’ Blessed relief. An alleyway, a man pushing him. A shot… He clutched his head crying out not in pain anymore, though it still hurt. "God damnit, why can’t I remember?"
"Look at me, Clay." She was sitting next to him now. "Look at me and tell me your name."
"Damn it Sarah, you know my name." He tried to jerk away, trying to regain the memories.
"Tell me, right now!"
"Clayton Webb, ADDOPS for Southwast Asia." He spoke without thinking, not realizing they weren’t alone.
Pete whistled. Doc demanded, "What? What does that mean?"
Webb’s eyes grew large and he rolled over and peered around Mac. "Terrific."
"Military, huh? What war?"
"Classified." Webb whispered finally remembering what had started the fight that got him in this position. "Don’t hit me again though."
"I didn’t. I’ll deal with the man who did." Pete rubbed his side. "You pack a punch for a little guy."
Webb grinned sourly. "Little guy? I know a former SEAL who towers over me who you would dwarf." He looked up at Mac. "Can we get out of here now?"
"Clay? Do you know where we are?"
His eyes went unerringly to the vent on the wall. "Damn, I’ll never be hungry again. What is the place? Wait a minute?" This time when he tried to sit up it was a little easier though the pain was still there, a constant throbbing. "Aspirin?"
Doc snorted. "Gee, we’re waiting for our shipment."
"What is this place?" Webb repeated.
"Clay, do you remember leaving the hospital?" Mac was almost afraid to ask the question.
"Hospital? What hospital?"
"Doctor Greenwald?"
"Stan? Stan Greenwald? At Havenhurst? I was at…" He gulped and gently pushed Mac out of the way so he could put his feet on the floor. She stood for a moment then settled next to him. She had meant to comfort him, but she was just so relieved that he was awake and starting to remember some things that the tears that she had kept at bay all night began to track down her cheek. One fell on the hand that had taken hers when she sat down.
"Hey. What’s this? How bad is it? Did Rabb do something stupid this time?"
"Oh, God." The sobs began to take her. "You don’t hate him anymore?"
"Rabb? Why would I hate…" The scenes flashed across his mind. "I did kill Palmer, didn’t I?"
"I don’t know, Clay."
Carefully, Webb stood up, then, as he began to sway, sat back down quickly. "Shit."
Pete looked down at Doc. They had come to this place nearly six month ago. There were little camps like this in many of the access tunnels between the subway lines. They never stayed in one place very long. Transit cops, social services and sometimes, street gangs, would come down and roust them out. "You’re bringing trouble down on us Mr. ADDOPS."
"I’m sorry." Webb sighed. "Mac, how did we get here?"
"You don’t remember the subway?"
"Big sons-of-bitches?" The vision fled.
"Yes. We ran down the subway tunnel? That door?"
"Oh, okay." He was suddenly tired. His head hurt. He scratched at his arm and looked down at the needle marks. "What are these from? The hospital? How much damn blood did they need?"
"Not the hospital, Clay. Ada? You remember her?"
He shook his head tiredly. Mac stood up and gently started to push him back. But then, she turned to look at Doc. She stopped his descent. "Come on. Lets go find a place we can sleep." She didn’t think she could sleep, but she wouldn’t take him out there and leave him alone.
"Oh, for God’s sakes. What do you think we are, monsters? Let him sleep. I’ve got things to do," Doc said gruffly before pushing past Pete and walking out into the chilly cavern beyond.
Mac settled Clay and as soon as his eyes were shut and his breathing evened out, she jerked her head at Pete motioning that they should go outside. Standing at the doorway, her back against the dank stone she crossed her arms under her breasts and looked up into Pete’s stony countenance. "Thank you."
"Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got to get out of here and soon. Next time he wakes up."
"I know. I don’t suppose there’s a phone…" She looked up into the dark recesses. "Up there, but close by?" She didn’t want to leave Clay, but she had to let the Admiral know where they were. She idly wondered if the nun had called or had thought she was some kind of nut. She wondered if she would ever get her ID back.