Murder In New York
Chapter 18
Apartment of Bobby Carter
Brooklyn
1300 Hours"Holy Shit!" Galindez stared in at the mess.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Green agreed wholeheartedly.
The two of them stood there in the small foyer and stared at the destruction before them.
"We’re never going to find anything in here." Green said, even as he was dialing his cell phone. "L.T., it’s me. You better get Brooklyn Techs over here to Carter’s apartment…I have no way of telling, it’s been ransacked. If anything was here, they found it. I don’t know who they are L.T. Yeah, fine. No, we’ll wait." He closed his phone and leaned against the wall. "Damn, what a waste of time. I swear to God, Briscoe got the best of this day."
Galindez stepped gingerly into the middle of the apartment. "What were they looking for?"
"Did you and the lieutenant rehearse this? How the hell would I know?" Green sighed. "Sorry."
They waited nearly an hour, both of them growing more and more frustrated. Finally the crime scene techs showed up, took one look at the apartment and began to grumble. A sergeant came forward and introduced himself. "Rayson. What the hell…"
"He doesn’t know." Galindez supplied before Green could explode.
"Look, just do a thorough grid search. Here’s my cell phone. Call me if you have any questions about anything. Come on Galindez."
"But what the hell are we looking for?" Rayson insisted.
Galindez glanced at Green then supplied, "Anything to do with the Russian mob, anything with the name Webb or Palmer. Anything…oh hell anything outside drug dealing." He caught up with the very angry Green. "Now what?"
"Lets go talk to Vice. Carter was stationed out of the 15th, but he would have reported to the lieutenant for the northeast side."
That wasted another two hours. Lieutenant Dorset was a loud angry man who did little but complain about the fact that his man was getting blackened by the entire mess. "Hey, Bobby wasn’t the best cop I had, but he was still a cop. IAD has already called wanting to talk to me. You I don’t have to talk to."
They were leaving the building when Green called out. "Hey, Antony!"
"Yo! My man, Edward!" A short thin, very well dressed man came up and shook Green’s hand. "What are you doing down here? Slumming?"
"Look at you. Job interview?"
"Not likely. Court date. I figure the bad guys will never recognize me dressed like this." The man paused and looked over at Galindez.
"Hey sorry, Antony Donatelli, Victor Galindez."
The two men shook hands then Donatelli asked. "So, you’re down here about Bobby the Boob." At Green’s raised eyebrow, Donatelli snorted. "Man you know me. I don’t put up with this brother cop bullshit if it isn’t called for. My ass has been on the line too many times and that son-of-a-bitch almost got it shot off the one time we worked together." His face got a disgusted look then he said, "But the bastard didn’t deserve to get killed like that. Makes the bad guys think they can kill anybody."
"You know why he had a bug up his butt?" Green asked.
"You mean besides wanting to get out of Vice so bad he would have suck…" He blushed and shook his head. "No. Momma would kick my ass if she heard me talking ill of the dead like that. I don’t know much about what Bobby was into. You check his notes?"
Green shook his head. "Nobody found them. We checked before we left. It wasn’t that big a deal before."
"Before what?"
"Look man, I’d tell you if I could."
Green looked embarrassed but Donatelli held up his hand. "Hey bro, I understand. So they didn’t find them in his desk or locker? How about his place."
"We were just out to Brooklyn. The place was tossed."
"Do tell. Why Brooklyn though?"
"What do you mean?"
"Bobby lived in Brooklyn?"
"Yeah. That’s the address in his personnel file," Green said, refusing to let his excitement grow again.
"Oh. Well about…oh geez…back in May, maybe June, my partner dragged me to this party up near Spanish Harlem. I didn’t know until we had been there for a couple of drinks that it was Bobby’s pad."
"Maybe he just moved?" Galindez pointed out the obvious.
"No." Green shook his head. "I read the report. He had been at that Brooklyn address for years. I think he inherited the building from his folks or something. You got a better address?
Donatelli started to shake his head but then he snapped his fingers. "Yeah, up on Brewester. Across the street is one of those laundro-bars."
"What?" Galindez said.
"You know some guy had two store fronts, he turned one into a laundromat and the other into a bar, then knocked a door in between. You wash your clothes and get drunk all in one stop."
"You got a name?" Green looked like he was in pain. The day was a real wash out and he wanted to get back to the precinct and help Lennie out. He snorted at his own thought, knowing exactly to whom he wanted to get back and make sure was all right.
"Yeah, a really stupid name. Spun not Shaken." As Green and Galindez made their way across the street he called after them, "Second floor front!"
It took nearly an hour in the afternoon traffic, but they finally found themselves standing across from the laudro-bar staring up at the depressing looking brownstone. The whole street was run-down. In fact the business across the street was the only business enterprise save for the two dope dealers blatantly making their afternoon rounds. Unfortunately, the front door was still secure and Green eyed the names in front of the buzzers. "There he is, bold as brass - Carter. Didn’t even use an undercover name."
"Hey, look." Galindez pointed through the glass. "Someone’s coming down the stairs."
"Back up. Don’t look like we’re crowding her."
The young girl eyed them both carefully, and put her hand into her jean pocket. Galindez figured there was a very long sharp knife about to be pulled out. He stepped back even farther and she glared from him to Green. "You gots bizness here?"
Green showed his shield. "Just checking on Mr. Carter. You know him?"
"Nah."
"Well thanks." Green edged around her and grabbed for the door before it could close. "Come on, Galindez." Once they were inside, Green sighed in relief when the first door they passed had "Super" printed on it.
Ten minutes of argument later they were standing inside a neat little apartment. "Couldn’t have been that big a party." Galindez pointed out.
"Yeah, well, less for us to check. You take that room, and I’ll take this one." Green pointed Galindez toward the kitchen. They did a thorough job and met back in the small foyer. "Anything?"
"No. I checked the freezer, nothing in it. Behind the fridge, even pulled out the drawers and checked underneath them."
"Yeah, I tossed the front room too. Looked under the furniture." Green sighed.
"Let’s do the bedroom together then go look for that boyfriend of Ada Marshall."
It was Galindez who found it, and he almost missed it. There was a small closet containing several shoes boxes and two suits. He was just returning the last box to the shelf when he happened to glance up. "Hey, Green?"
"Yeah?"
"You got a flashlight?"
"Sure, here." Green came to stand behind Gunny. "What have you…oh? A scuttle hole? On the second floor?"
"Find me a chair." Gunny stood on the chair while Green held it for him. He pushed up the small cut out in the ceiling of the closet, only it didn’t move very far. "Damn." Carefully he worked it back and arched up on his tiptoes.
"What do you see?"
"Nothing." Gunny sighed and started to move the panel back. "Dumb ass!"
"What!"
"Hold on." Carefully Gunny worked the panel out of the hole. "Bingo," he said as he tore off the envelope taped to the top of the panel.
It was an 8 ½ x 11 manila with its clasp engaged and a strip of tape across the flap. "Looks like he didn’t want anyone messing with it without him knowing about it." Green bit his lip. "Do it."
"Should it be you?"
"In the report, it will be me. Go on."
"Holy shit," both men breathed.
"I’ve got to let the Admiral know." Gunny stared down at the pictures of Clayton Webb, sitting behind the piano in The Lucky Chance, standing in front of a brightly lit business surrounded by black people, a few of them had looks of surprise on their faces, walking along a dark and deserted city street.
"I’ll be damned." Green handed Gunny his cell phone.
"Sir! It’s me. We found something. At an apartment Carter used while he was undercover I guess. Oh the address. 235 Brewster." Gunny waited. "He’s talking to Agent Ry… Yes, sir. What! Holy shit. Yes, sir! We’ll be right there." He handed the phone back to Green.
"Right where!"
"Around the corner. They think they found where Palmer held Webb."
: :
Havenhurst
1700 HoursThere had been no tears, no cowering, no whimpering and cringing at her feet today. Clayton Webb had sat in the chair across from Greenwald and coldly, dispassionately related every second of every moment he could remember of the time that ended so violently in the alley behind The Lucky Chance. His voice never wavered when he told of the abuse that Ada had heaped on him, particularly after she had come on to him and he had been unable to perform. He never once looked at Mac, who had sat in stony silence beside him.
"Tell me something, Webb." Greenwald looked as exhausted as Mac felt. "Why did you decide to go into the Lucky Chance?"
"Just did." Webb began, then his brow furrowed as he thought longer. For the first time since sitting down in Greenwald’s office today, Mac saw some emotion flicker across her lover’s face. "No. I remember now. I was just walking around, trying to remember something, anything. These guys came up to me and started giving me a hard time. You know, pushing me, talking like they were going to take me somewhere. This guy, he was older than the others, came up and yelled at them. They seemed to know him. Seemed to respect him too. They called him Mr. Tyler. That’s it. After they went away, he walked with me awhile. It was he who suggested that we go into the bar. Only he disappeared after that. I didn’t see him for days. Long after I had started playing. I didn’t even remember him until right now." Webb felt an excitement begin to grow inside him. "Oh my God. It was classic."
Mac glanced at Greenwald, but without asking stood and picked up his phone. Moments later she sighed. "Why would it work now; I can never get you on that damn thing, Harm." She tried another number. "Sir. It’s me. I wanted to check something out with you…what’s that noise? What!" Her face turned completely white and Webb was instantly at her side. Greenwald also stood. She gulped, unable to meet Webb’s look but she made no move to shake off the hand he had put on her arm. "Are you sure? No I…"
She finally looked at Clay and before she could stop him, he pulled the phone from her hand. "AJ. What’s going on? Don’t even try it, Admiral. I see. You’re sure? Well, there’s only one real way to find out, isn’t there." He listened for a bit, then snorted. "Oh please." His voice turned bitter. "Do you honestly think it could be worse than it was? I…" He looked at Mac and then at Greenwald. "We’ll be there. Yeah, I figured. Here, give the address to Mac; she probably wants to tell you something else."
: :
Greenwald wasn’t happy. In fact, he threatened to call Anspach, but Webb was already out the door calling back. "You ready to have them put me in a straight jacket, Stan?"
Mac, after she hung up the phone, hurried out the door. "Clay!" She almost ran into him in the hallway. Two burly orderlies were blocking Webb’s way. "Please Clay, wait for Dr. Greenwald."
From down the hall, Anspach was just getting off the elevator. "Webb! Where do you think you’re going?"
For a moment it looked like Webb was going to fight the two orderlies. Mac reached up and touched him. He spun around. "Don’t! Don’t baby me. Let’s just get this over with."
"Clay. Are you sure you can handle it?" She stepped closer, bringing her lips to the side of his head and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Clay, they’re all watching you. If you go there and…"
He turned his head and kissed her softly. "I know, Sarah. I know. But, I have to do this. I have to face this. I have to KNOW what he wanted me to do."
They stood there in a silent tableau for what seemed like an eternity to Mac as she counted off the seconds. Finally, Greenwald stepped up. "If we do this, you stay between Colonel MacKenzie and me. If I say we go – we go. Agreed Webb?"
"Yeah, Stan. Sure."
"No, DAMN IT!" It was the first time Mac could remember Greenwald really yelling. "Yes or no?"
"Okay, Stan." Webb looked at his boss. It was almost hard to remember him. "Mr. Anspach?"
"Mr. Webb. I…where are we going?"
"Before we go anywhere, please tell me that my mother isn’t…"
"I personally drove your mother to the Park Plaza Hotel." Anspach waited.
Realization began to cool his bravado. Clay looked at Mac, who smiled and took his hand. "Don’t let go."
Anspach led them outside to a waiting limo. Mac and Webb climbed in and sat with their backs to the driver. Anspach and Greenwald faced them, but Webb turned his head and stared out the window trying hard to recognize anything around him. His memories were jumbled, but he was pretty sure he could tell reality from the hellacious images Palmer had forced him to watch. At least he was sure of the memories he had of the woman sitting next to him. He didn’t turn his head but spoke quietly. "How’s work?"
"Same old, same old. Bud is still on the Seahawk. Singer is still bitching just to be bitching. Harriet bought a house."
"Didn’t I see Gunnery Sergeant Galindez? Or was that a hallucination?"
"You hallucinating about Gunny?" She put her head on his shoulder. "No he was there. Rabb said he drove Francesca Paretti – that’s the Admiral’s daughter – up from D.C. Something weird about her mother. I didn’t keep it straight though."
"Been busy playing nurse…" he started but then sighed, "Sorry."
"You just don’t get it do you, Clay?" She really didn’t want to have this conversation in front of his boss or his doctor, but she suspected he needed to hear it. "I love you. Where would you have been if it had been me?"
He turned then and looked into her eyes. "I would have killed him with my bare hands."
"You did," she reminded him. She sighed contentedly when he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her closer still.
Webb turned his attention to his new boss. "So, how bad is it?"
Anspach studied the couple before him. He was almost envious of Mac’s devotion to Webb. He knew that no matter what the outcome was, she would stick by his side. There would be no spiriting Webb away to a private mental hospital. She wouldn’t keep quiet again, praying that someone would send her word. "In regards to you?"
"No, sir. In regards to the Agency."
"Well, I’ve got men looking for Rice. The FBI is looking for Rice and NYPD is looking for the little bastard. Carlson called me. He wants to see you as soon as we return to DC. He just returned from that overseas tour the President sent him on and he found out three days ago what happened to you. He’s mad as a wet hen."
Webb nodded. "Jack’s a good man. He spoke highly of you."
"Did he?" Anspach looked out the window, the guilt he felt at allowing himself to be manipulated tingeing his cheeks red. "I’m sorry I didn’t look sooner, Webb. Russo, the assistant who said you were taking a vacation, was highly recommended by…well, anyway, I’m sorry. The entire Agency is in an uproar over this. I’m not so sure I will be there when you resume your duties."
"Why? Do you know for a fact that Russo wasn’t being manipulated? This Rice guy, though, I’ve never heard of him."
"Well we’re looking into that too. It seems that Mr. Palmer played his cards very well."
"Yeah, well, that’s Palmer’s specialty, seizing the perfect moment."
Mac finally entered the conversation. "Do you think Karpov was the driving force behind all this? Or did Palmer go to Karpov?"
"Now that, Colonel, is the 64,000-dollar question," Anspach said quietly.
Mac knew instantly when Webb began to recognize their surroundings. He stiffened and eased away from her, almost pressing his nose against the window. In the cool air-conditioned car, she could hear his breathing increased, see the sweat bead on his forehead. She glanced over at Greenwald and saw that he too was aware of Webb’s heightened state of awareness.
"There!" Webb pointed and started to reach for the doorknob.
"Easy, son." Anspach gently pushed his hand away. "Let the car get there first."
Mac was surprised to see Gunny and Green standing by the curb. All around them were police cars and several vans marked "Crime Scene Unit."
"Where?" Webb demanded.
"Webb!" Someone must have told him they had arrived because AJ came hurrying down the alley.
"Is it?" Webb snapped.
"Yeah, Clay it is. You sure?"
"Get out of my way, Admiral." He took off down the alleyway, almost unaware that Mac still clutched his hand. Unerringly, he pushed through the milling police until they were standing at the top of the steps leading down. Then he stopped. She could feel his resolve slipping but said nothing. Taking deep breaths he forced his foot down onto the first concrete step. By the time he reached the bottom, Mac almost lost her grip; his hand was so wet with sweat.
"Webb?" AJ growled from right behind her. "It’s two flights down. You sure you can do this?"
"No. But I’ll die trying." They could hear the fear and anxiety in his voice. Mac could almost see the emotions skitter across his face when he turned to her. But she just smiled and nodded, letting him know that she would be there, right behind him. "Let’s do this."
AJ stepped in front. "Okay, Webb." He led the way down, not too fast, but quick enough so that Webb didn’t have time to consider it.
Webb knew exactly what AJ was doing, appreciated it even. But it didn’t help. Like a crazy kaleidoscope in reverse he experienced his flight away from the terror. Noises that were never there hounded him and he followed the bald head down the stairs. He had to let go of Mac’s hand but he sensed her presence behind him. They were halfway down the last flight of stairs when he began to hear screams and gunfire.
"Shut that off NOW!" an angry female voice demanded and suddenly everything grew quiet. "Jesus H. Christ, what is the matter with you idiots? He’s on his way down!"
"Ah, Agent Ryan," Webb said with surprising calm.
Cassie poked her head around the corner. "Hello." She spared a glance at AJ but he moved past her to allow her to meet Webb as he stepped down off the last stair. "Webb, Mac, Mr. Anspach, Dr. Greenwald."
"Move, please," Webb asked politely.
Cassie saw Greenwald nod resignedly and stepped back. "It’s pretty bad, Webb."
"Yeah, it was." Webb stepped into a small room, simply furnished, leading to another, darker room just beyond. AJ stood by the door talking to someone. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Mac. "I suppose if I asked you to wait out here…"
"Ain’t gonna happen."
His sigh floated through the open doorway. Carefully, he stepped into the room and it was like three weeks disappeared for a moment. His eyes riveted to the huge tank at the far end of the room. When he tore his attention away from it, he found himself staring at what could only be described as a cross between a barber’s chair and an electric chair. He balled his hands into fists as he remembered the way the leather straps had bitten into his wrists and ankles. His neck muscles flexed as he felt the harness holding his head in position, making it impossible to turn away from the screen before him. His brow furrowed as he once again felt the tape holding his eyelids open tear into his skin.
"Hey! What’s this?" someone called and suddenly the screen before them jumped to life.
"Shut that goddam thing off!" several voices called out. But Webb broke away from Mac’s grasp on his arm and walked toward the screen.
"I can’t find the damn off button! It was a remote and I dropped it."
"Oh, my God." Mac was just behind him. "Oh God, how did he do that?"
"Simple enough," Webb said dispassionately as they stood and watched in silent horror as the image of Harmon Rabb slit the throat of a young girl. "All you have to do is film the footage and superimpose Rabb’s face. The screen finally went blank and Mac rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I would have never been fooled if I hadn’t been filled with drugs." He turned to find them all staring at him, waiting for some other reaction. He looked at Ryan. "Turn it on. I want to find out the rest."
"What rest?"
"Look. It’s obvious from what happened yesterday. Someone was trying to find out if the conditioning took. He wanted me to help him kill someone. He knew he didn’t have time to get me to turn and do the killing for him. But obviously, he thought he could use me to get him in somewhere and then just stand by why he pulled off the assassination. I figure it had to be a woman, if they picked…damn, what is her name?"
"ADA Southerlyn," Mac supplied.
"Thanks. But who was the real target? Just roll the damn thing, but maybe find a fast forward button."
No one spoke as the footage crawled across the screen. Mac looked away as a manipulation of Porter Webb appeared on the screen and found that the Admiral had taken control of the hi-tech project. She was grateful when he found the fast forward button. The images became a crazy quilt but still recognizable. She couldn’t help her gasp when the violence turned erotic.
"Jesus!" Anspach groaned.
Mac felt Greenwald come to stand behind Webb. "Talk to me, Webb."
"And say what, Stan? You do know that’s not me up there, right?"
"I know it. Colonel MacKenzie knows it too, don’t you Colonel?"
"Of course," she whispered, sickened that Clay might even think she thought it was really him and Palmer up there.
"Stop!" Webb called. "Back it up. But slowly."
"Why?" Anspach croaked.
"Just do it."
AJ backed it up in real time. Mac closed her eyes.
"No, go forward from there and slow it down some more."
"Clay," Mac didn’t want to watch anymore, but she took a deep breath and just stood there, eyes lowered.
"Son-of-a-bitch," AJ said.
"I’ll be damned," Cassie agreed.
Finally, Mac looked up and found herself staring, not at two men making love, but at the face of a woman. Older, her hair a little darker, the woman very closely resembled Serena Southerlyn. "Who is she?" Mac whispered.
"Rozalina Lukanov," Webb said. "Go forward, AJ. Let’s see how he progressed."
It took nearly an hour. First it was just one frame interspersed within the pornography. Then as calming pictures of fields of flowers and frolicking horses replaced even that, longer flashes of the woman appeared until they could clearly see footage of the woman walking next to a man.
"I suspect there is a sound track, explaining why you should just let her die?" Greenwald finally said after they saw the picture morph into Lukanov just standing there, then seeing the red assassin’s laser rest on her chest, then the blood staining her outfit until she lay on the ground.
"Yeah. I remember it. I don’t need to hear it again. We can go."
"Webb. Tell me, how you are feeling?" Greenwald insisted.
Webb just shrugged. "Tired, sickened. No. Really, really angry. I know why Karpov wants her dead. It has nothing to do with the fact she is instrumental in her husband’s campaign in Bashkortostan, though he might have convinced someone to bankroll the assassination because she is."
"Why then, Webb?" Anspach sounded like he wanted to throw up.
"Because she testified against him in Russia. Karpov was ex-KGB even before the wall fell. They kicked him out. You realize how really vile you have to be to have been kicked out of the KGB?"
"What was he doing here?" AJ asked.
"Well, for once, this isn’t something you can blame on us. Palmer’s people in Defense Security brought him over and set him up."
"Well if we would have known…" Cassie began then grew quiet. "Oh God, we have to find him."
"We will, darlin’," AJ promised.
"No you don’t understand. She’s coming here."
"Yeah. August 26th. Shit! That was what Perkins sent me the report on. She found out through one of her contacts that Karpov was interested in the reception that State is holding for President and Mrs. Lukanov.
Chapter 19
August 14
Mary Perkins’ Apartment – Soho
0700 Hours"Yes! Oh, God! Just like that!" Mary arched up into Harmon Rabb’s questing fingers, crying out her release. Collapsing against the bed, she took a moment to catch her breath. "Come here, Commander. We have some unfinished business."
Rabb chuckled and made his way back up her body, kissing and licking the sweat from her skin. Even with the air conditioning, they were seldom cool and collected. The moment they had awoken in each other’s arms two mornings ago, it was like they couldn’t get enough of each other – inside her apartment. Outside, they spent the better part of the last 48 hours tracking down every possible lead she could come up with inside the Russian immigrant community. They would have to leave soon to continue. Now that they knew why Clayton Webb had been kidnapped, it was even more imperative that they find Sergei Karpov. But they had a little time. Time enough.
"You taste good, Mary," he sighed as he traced her puckered aureolae.
"Fuck me, Harm," she pleaded. "I want to feel you inside me."
"Oh, baby. You are so hot." Bracing himself on his elbows and forearms, Rabb found his cock already seeking her hot core. "God, I could get so used to this," he groaned as he plunged home, pausing to allow them both to savor the moment. As he had done every time they made love, he waited until she signaled she was ready. Sometimes when she straddled him, she was in complete control. At times like these, she would thrust up into him. Now he began to thrust deep inside her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He couldn’t believe how she had managed to claim his heart and even as he neared his climax, it saddened him, because he realized that he already felt more for her than she would probably ever feel for him. Even has they came within moments of each other, he knew she was already planning the next visit to the next possible lead to Karpov.
Sighing, he rolled off her. It was funny really. He had never been into cuddling, but he longed to hold and pet Mary Perkins. She arched up, kissed him soundly and whispered, "I’ll shower first then, while you’re in, I’ll run out for breakfast."
"Sounds like a plan." He offered her one of his killer smiles, hiding the pain. "You need me to fix the bandage on your shoulder?"
"Yes, please. I’ll call you when I get out." That was another thing. She fully participated in their sex and she was a phenomenon at oral sex. And if she didn’t enjoy his attentions to every inch of her skin, then she was the best damn actress he had ever seen. «Well, she made it perfectly clear her career came first. How weird is this? I should be jumping for joy and all I feel is that I want more.»
Once they set foot outside her apartment she became all professional, which really was fine with him. He let her drive and took a moment to check in with his CO. "Morning, sir." He listened for a while, carefully noting the directions and turns she made in the rush hour traffic. "Well, I understand that, Admiral. Yes, sir. You have your responsibilities. You need me to keep an eye out on Agent Ryan?" He glanced over at the low noise that Mary made and was shocked and not a little pleased to see that his lover was just a tad jealous. «Well, well.» "No, sir! I do understand. Yes, I completely agree."
Mary Perkins kept her eyes glued to the road and mentally kicked herself. She knew exactly what she was doing «God, I hope to hell I know what I’m doing» with the JAG lawyer and jet jockey next to her. She had never been in love with someone quite so damn good-looking and sure of himself. «Hell’s bells, girl. He’s even taller than most of the men you’ve dated in the last five years. But he’s one of those men who don’t like clingy women. I’ll bet he gets that wide-eyed terrified stare if his date even wants to window shop for furniture.» When he ended the phone call she spared him a brief glance. "What’s up?"
"Chegwidden has to go back to D.C. He is the JAG, and Sturgis has run into a couple of things. Course, he doesn’t have Bud Roberts there to help him out."
"Who are Sturgis and Bud?"
It was the first time she had shown any interest in his life back in D.C., and so while she maneuvered her way around buses and taxis and irate New York drivers, he filled her in on his life. It took them an hour to reach their destination. "Shit, maybe we find a little dump and spend the night. It would save time," he groused as they got out of the car in front of a fairly well-maintained brownstone. "Who lives here?"
"Andre’ Andreovich." She looked around and sighed. "It should be okay this early in the morning."
"What? The car? Or us?"
She snorted. "Both, I guess. Come on." She led the way of the crumbling steps. "This is one of the places that Vitorio gave Ryan the other night. Kelly sent a couple of guys that next day, but they reported nobody was home." She ran the super’s bell and waited. "Which considering Andreovich has been confined to a wheelchair is pretty amazing."
"This place doesn’t look like it is handicap friendly." Rabb observed as he pushed opened the door and followed her into the grimy hallway. It smelled of a century of dirt, smoke and stale cooking odors.
"Mr. Lukin." Perkins, then Rabb grimly took the proffered hand of the super who came out into the hallway to meet them. Mary showed the man her identification. "I’m Perkins; this is Rabb. We have a couple of questions for you."
: :
Havenhurst Hospital
0900 HoursAJ Chegwidden glared at the man before him. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to storm out, but he would only come face to face with Sarah MacKenzie if he did and she was the reason he was having this discussion anyway «Who are you shitting? He’s family too, and he needs you. Two years ago I would have laughed my ass off if someone had suggested that.» They were in Greenwald’s office. Just he and Webb, and it wasn’t going well.
"Just get her to go, AJ. I can do this on my own. I don’t need…I don’t want her to see me like this anymore."
"Like what? From what Greenwald has told Anspach and me, you are doing quite well. Better than he expected. You know what was done to you, and why it was done. You escaped long before any permanent damage was done." AJ tried to calm down. "Don’t argue. MacKenzie has more accumulated leave than any other two officers in JAG combined. If she wants to stay here with you, then man, DON’T BE A COMPLETE IDIOT."
Clayton Webb closed his eyes in pain. He had been fooling himself. He had tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone. That his mother should be there for him was a given. For over thirty years it had just been the two of them. Oh, there had been women for him and even an occasional liaison with a dignified gentleman or two in her life also, but push came to shove, no one had known him like she. No one until Sarah MacKenzie had turned to him that day in the JAG office when Rabb and Brumby had gone at each other tooth and nail, effectively destroying two relationships, and giving him the one thing he had always wanted. "Well after seeing me this past week, I’m just surprised that she wants to stay. Jesus, AJ, what the hell can I give her? My career is over."
"Bullshit. Greenwald and Anspach don’t believe that."
"But what happens the next time I see that red laser light shine on someone else? What if someone finds out my weakness? You have no idea how close I came to just letting that gunman kill her."
"What the hell is Greenwald telling you, Webb? You didn’t let him kill her. You pushed her to the ground and alerted the rest of us." AJ closed the distance between them and took Webb by his shirt front, drawing him close. "You listen to me, Clayton Webb. She loves you – God knows why, but she does. And frankly, that would be enough for me, but just as importantly, WE need you. Your country needs you. Snap out of it! That’s a GOD DAMN ORDER!"
The corner of Webb’s mouth quirked. For the first time since waking up in that alley outside his personal hell, Webb felt a knot begin to unravel. Decorum proscribed that he back away, smooth his shirt and purse his lips. But the sheer force of AJ’s personality was too much. "Or what, AJ? You gonna break my nose again?"
"Maybe more." AJ’s lips compressed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He had just stopped in to say goodbye. Mac had met him in the foyer and breathlessly pleaded to take her vacation time. He hadn’t even hesitated. He hadn’t lied, Anspach had assured him that if it were possible he would take Webb back in a heartbeat even if the man couldn’t go out into the field for a while. The only roadblock that Greenwald or Mac could see was Webb’s inability to see that he hadn’t really succumbed. He licked his lips and released the hold he had on Webb’s shirt. "Son, you have to get better. I don’t think Tiner can handle one more of her rampages."
Webb snorted and stepped back. "Tiner getting on her nerves? Isn’t that status quo?" Even he felt the smirk that suffused his face.
"Yeah, but with her mind elsewhere its harder to combat. Plus, she threw a coffee cup at Singer."
It had been a long time but, by God, it sounded like a laugh, even to his ears. Felt like one too. "You going to give Mac a medal?"
"Better, I gave Singer a TDY."
"Took you long enough."
"Yeah, well who are you going to use as your inside man at JAG now, Webb?" The grin on AJ’s face was positively predatory.
"Singer? Please. You’re fishing."
"Aha! I knew it."
Part of Webb knew exactly what AJ was doing. But damn, it felt good to just snip at the man just like nothing had happened. Greenwald, his mother, Sarah, Rabb when he came to visit, everyone treated him with kid gloves. Only AJ had shown him that he saw Webb just like he always had – an annoying pain in the ass. But he also saw the concern in those dark brown eyes. He took a deep breath. "Thanks, AJ."
"Don’t try and change the subject, but you’re welcome."
From behind the small two-way mirror, Greenwald and Mac each took a sigh of relief. "It’s a good sign, right?" Mac asked hopefully.
"It’s a very good sign. And, after getting the corrected toxicology reports, I know the med treatments available. It’s just he doesn’t see yet how far he has come."
Mac slapped at her hip in irritation, forgetting why it was vibrating. Then she remembered; she had taken to wearing her cell on a clip on her hip. She really hated being out of the loop. "MacKenz…" She grew silent and listened; her eyes growing wider with each passing second. "For God’s sake, just stay there. We’re on our way." Without another word she ran from the small observation room down the hall and into the office. "Sir!"
Webb and AJ stared at her flushed features. "Report, Colonel!"
"Sir, Harm just called me. He and Kelly think they may have found Karpov!"
: :
Holiday Inn
Victor Galindez’s Room
0945 HoursGalindez stared down into the eyes of Francesca Paretti. "You are so damn pretty."
Francesca strove to catch her breath. She was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm; she would ache for a while from the intensity of his lovemaking. "Thank you Victor. I am surprised that you are still with me this morning."
He leaned over and kissed her gently. "I wish we could just go somewhere and hide until I have to go back."
She sighed guiltily. "I must leave tomorrow, Victor."
"I know," he said. "I know you have a job."
"Come with me."
"What?" He leaned back and studied her for a long time. "To Milan?"
"No. I have to be in Paris for the week." She sat up excitedly. "Oh, Victor. Could you? Have you have been in Paris with someone you…" She blushed and turned away. It was too soon to think of such things. She sighed when she felt his lips on her shoulder blades.
"I have never been to Paris with someone I care about, Francesca. In fact, I’ve never been to Paris at all. Will you have time to show me Paris?"
She clapped her hands and stood. As she turned around he moaned at her beauty. He was just about to reach out for her when his phone rang. "Damn! Green said he had court all day today." He really didn’t mind helping, but he didn’t relish spending another day in the sweltering heat chasing one dead end after another. He stalked over to the desk and snatched up the receiver. "Hello!"
"Gunny?"
"Admiral! Sorry, sir." As he listened he saw Francesca begin to pout. "Not a problem, sir. Yes, sir. Ten minutes."
After he quickly showered, he pulled on his clothes. She didn’t say a word, merely paced softly back and forth. He clipped on the backup piece that Green had given him the first day they partnered and then walked up to her. Taking her in his arms, he whispered, "I have to go, but find me a flight to Paris with you, okay?"
15th Precinct
1000 HoursCassie replaced the receiver in its cradle and sighed.
"Nothing?" Lennie Briscoe asked as he handed her a cup of coffee. At her look, he laughed. "Don’t worry, I lose. Don’t have me an Admiral to pull rank. It’s weak as water."
"Uh-huh." Cassie snorted but gratefully took the cup. She sipped the coffee then looked up in surprise. Briscoe’s put-upon air made her smile. "You’re right about it being nothing, though. There’s only one last name to check on the list that Vitorio gave us. Perkins and Rabb are going to go out to the apartment of one Andre’ Andreovich. Mary’s contacts were no good either."
Cassie drank her coffee. The JAG team had accomplished what they had set out to do and more. From everything she had heard, Webb was well on his way to recovery. His own stubborn guilt being the biggest draw back. «Of course, if Palmer really did those things to him, then I guess I can understand it. Rape is rape and it takes time to heal.»
AJ had mentioned that Mac was taking vacation time, but he had to get back to what he was supposed to be doing. While she would miss him terribly, particularly at night, she knew he was right. She was going to cut Rabb loose this afternoon. She suspected the top gun would have a myriad of reasons to stay, but she had promised AJ she would kick him back to DC after this one last day.
Detective Ari Khoury from IAD opened the door to the office Anita Van Buren was using. An angry looking policeman followed him out, muttering under his breath. Khoury watched the man stomp down the stairs before grabbing his own cup of coffee and joining the other two. "Van Buren is on the horn with chief. She isn’t happy. Damn! I know someone knows what’s going on, but no one is talking."
"Who’s left?" Cassie sighed.
"No one on the rolls. I guess we’ll have to start down at vice next."
"Not me!" Briscoe insisted. "It was one thing…"
Khoury grimaced and held up his hand. "Yeah, yeah. I know. God forbid you should be tainted by Internal Affairs."
"Quit it." Cassie said leaning back in her chair. They were all so dejected that they didn’t hear the footsteps. A black man, wearing a suit, but with a badge on his pocket, cleared his throat. Cassie looked up and furrowed her brow trying to remember the man’s name.
He saw her consternation. "Jenkins, Agent Ryan. You interviewed me two days ago."
"That’s right. You’re desk is over there in the corner, right? You need something?"
Jenkins looked at Briscoe and Khoury. Cassie suddenly understood the look but shook her head. "Sorry, Jenkins. If you’ve got something to say, come and sit down. It’s gone past where I can kick them out."
Jenkins chewed his lip. Khoury sat straighter and Briscoe squirmed in sympathy for the man. No one liked IAD.
Cassie stood up and offered the chair, taking away Jenkins’ need for decision. "Sit down, detective. Talk to us."
Jenkins sighed and didn’t even notice the cup of coffee that Khoury placed in front of him. He never once took his eyes off Cassie.
"Four weeks ago, Bobby Carter said he needed my help. I owed Carter – I’m not saying why, but I owed him. He took me to his apartment up in Spanish Harlem and told me he wanted me to help him tail a guy. ‘Big things are going on with this guy. Huge! Everybody wants him. The Russian Mob and the CIA.’"
"Let me get this straight. Three weeks ago, Carter said the CIA was interested in this man." She slid the picture of Webb across the table. It had been taken at the hospital. They hadn’t wanted to use his official identification photo.
"Yep. That’s the guy." Jenkins nervously licked his lips. "I swear to God I didn’t know what was going on. He just had me follow him from the time he left that club up in Harlem to when he arrived home. Dumb son of a bitch never once called for a cab. Of course, the buses only run every two hours up there, but if he had tried…" Jenkins took a long drink of his coffee and stared off into the distance. "After a week, I asked Carter why I was doing it. Carter was a lousy liar. He said it was national security. I called him on it and told him to forget about it. That’s when he took me back to his place. The first time, he just kept me in his front room. But this time he showed me the bedroom. There was this guy there. Jesus, he looked like shit!"
"What do you mean?" Khoury demanded.
"I mean someone had worked him over really good. He was lying on his stomach. His back was a mess."
"That would be Palmer," Cassie said. The autopsy had showed healing cuts and bruises as well as the fact that no less than four ribs had been broken. "I don’t suppose Carter mentioned who had treated him?"
"Nah. I figured it was the other guy."
"Other guy? This man?" Cassie showed him another picture.
"Hell no. That’s Sergei Karpov. I would have run from the room had I know he was involved. No this was some kid. Only he had identification saying he was CIA."
"He showed you?" Briscoe asked, surprised.
"Only way I stayed. His name was Brice or Dice…no, Rice. That’s it."
"What did Rice say?" Cassie was starting to let her excitement grow.
"Said your boy there was a double agent in the pay of Saddam and he had attacked the CIA guy on the bed."
"The guy on the bed say anything to you?" Khoury said.
"Just that Palmer had been spotted and that they needed someone to help follow him."
"That didn’t strike you as strange?"
"A little, but I figured Rice knew what he was talking about. He said they were afraid to trust anyone until they got the dope on Palmer…only he wasn’t Palmer was he?"
"No Jenkins. Why are you coming forward now?" Khoury picked up a pad and pen and began scribbling notes.
"Something I saw." Jenkins’ voice dropped to a whisper. "Rice told me that there was another agent in place, watching…"
"Webb, Jenkins. The man’s name is really Webb." Cassie tapped the photo of the spy.
"Yes, ma’am."
"What did you see?"
"The guy who was watching Webb was a regular at the Lucky Chance. Or, from what I could tell, he was known in the neighborhood."
"You know who?"
"Some guy named Tyler I think."
Something niggled at the back of Cassie’s brain, but she continued, "What did you see?"
"Well, the night that Webb supposedly killed Carter?"
"Supposedly?" Three voices asked in unison. As far as they could tell, they had managed to keep Webb’s name from the papers, and no one had a clue yet that McCoy was quietly dropping the charges. They really didn’t want the publicity if they could help it. The raid on The Pit had no one suspicious. And they had spirited Webb back to the hospital before any reporter had neared the 15th Precinct the day of the attempt on Southerlyn’s life.
"Yeah. I really don’t think he did it. But afterwards, Rice and the guy on the bed had told me to keep my mouth shut. That Tyler had turned and the two of them had done it."
"What made them say that?"
"Well, you see, I would go into the bar around one o’clock and have a drink, waiting for Webb to finish up. I kept to myself and never spoke to anyone. That time of night, you mostly get hardcore drinkers. It wasn’t hard for me to spot Tyler right away. Like I said, a couple of people knew him and they called out to him occasionally. Anyway, the night of the murder, I had just arrived. I saw Webb start for the piano for Ada’s last set. Sometimes, before she showed up, he would play classical pieces. Most of the guys didn’t seem to mind, though a few would yell shit at him. He would just smile and keep right on playing. Anyway, Grant said something to him, and he turned to go out back. Then Grant went out the front door. Not too many people saw it, but he didn’t look real happy. I was starting to get the feeling, you know?" He waited and everyone nodded in agreement.
He stared at his empty coffee cup musing. Briscoe stood, took the cup and returned shortly. "You’re not done."
"Huh? No. I was starting to think I should go to the bathroom and follow Webb out back when Tyler came out of the back, the same way Webb went, and hurried out the front. That’s when I heard the shot."
"You go and investigate?"
"I swear I would have, but Rice came in the front and grabbed me. Told me to get the hell out of there."
"Holy shit." Cassie breathed. "I’ve got to make some phone calls." She had just reached for the desk phone when her cell bleated. "Ryan. What! Perkins! So help me God!" She was on her feet and heading down the stairs.
Briscoe jumped up and looked at Khoury. "Here we go again."
Khoury looked from Jenkins to the retreating back of Briscoe. "Lieutenant!" he yelled.
Van Buren jerked open the door to her office. "What?"
"Keep him here. Something’s going down!"
"What? Damn it!" She glared at Jenkins. "You! In here, now. Talk to me."