by Owen Parr
“She’s had a quite an effect on you, professor.”
We got down to the lobby area, and as we walked out of the building, he asked, “So, what do you think?”
I put out my hand. “Hang on a second. I want to make sure Larry and Harry are positioned properly.” Dialing Larry, I told him we were done and to be ready. I did the same with Harry.
I then dialed Patrick. “Mr. Pat, the Professor and I are headed to Feathersmith’s office. Are you ready?”
“Joey, I’m at the pub. All I have to do is walk a few blocks to Water Street. Call me when you get to his office, and I’ll be outside a few minutes later. How did it go with these guys?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, we’re jumping in an Uber to go down to Water Street. It may take us half an hour with traffic the way it is.”
“Okay, lad, call me when you get there.”
“What do I think?” I said as we sat in the back of a Toyota Corolla. “I think he was aloof, but we expected that.” I spoke in generalities now that there was a third person in the car. “However, I took a chance mentioning the fellow in Miami, and that caused a reaction from him.”
“I know, I saw that. He ended the conversation immediately.”
“Yes, there is that, but his non-verbal communication told me a lot. I’m sure he knows the Miami person, and that is a key to this little game of ours.”
“Oh, this is so much fun. Thank you for getting me involved. I needed this diversion from my mundane and routine life. Plus, I got to meet Agnes.”
“I have to tell you, you’re a natural. You did a great job back there.” I said. “You’re falling for Agnes, right?”
“I felt this immediate chemistry between the two of us. Yes, you can say I’m falling for Agnes. I’m smitten by her. I hope it’s reciprocal.”
Having observed Agnes’s reaction to meeting the doctor—her sad-sack demeanor over breaking up with her boyfriend was gone—I knew the feeling was mutual.
Prior to entering the office building on Water Street, Larry called.
“Only Meadows came down. Harry is waiting for Opal, in case he comes down too. Mr. Meadows is meeting with two guys at the Union Square Café on East Nineteenth.”
“Are you there now?” I asked.
“I’m in the café.”
“Can you hear the conversation?”
“No. It’s very loud in here.”
“What do these two guys look like?”
“They have dark complexions. I’d say they’re middle eastern.”
“Now listen. Have Harry pick up Meadows, see where he goes. I’m thinking he’ll go back to his office. You follow the two new guys. I want to know where they go. Call me back as soon as you know where they’re going.” I hung up.
“Meadows is on the move?” Achilles asked.
“Yeah, and while I hate to make generalities, the two fellows with him fit the profile of those involved.”
I called Patrick to tell him we were going in to see Feathersmith. The conversation was quick. We replayed the same thing we had discussed with Meadows, but, there was a genuine lack of interest on his part. He did admit to dabbling in art and antiquities, but not in any serious way. The mention of Senturk’s name showed no visual reaction at all.
We met up with Patrick at Café Arte, corner of Water Street and Wall with a perfect view of Feathersmith’s building.
“I don’t think we’re going to see this guy come down, Mr. Pat. We’ll know if he starts researching Achilles, if he goes to the website, et cetera. Either Meadows or this guy click on the site, Agnes will pick up their IP address. But, I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“I’d have to agree,” Achilles said.
“This fellow could be that good,” Mr. Pat said. “I know you’re a keen observer, Joey, but is there a possibility he fooled you both?”
I opened my eyes widely. “Mr. Pat, after all this time, are you questioning my powers of deduction? Or are you simply playing the role of my brother, who’s always a pain in the ass?”
“Oh, I’m just being cautious. Don’t take offense to that.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. That’s why I want you to stay and watch. Maybe this guy is that good.”
“This conversation reminds me of a time in Casablanca—”
“The Casablanca, on the coast of Morocco?” As soon as I said that, I knew I made a mistake. Patrick rolled his eyes back so far, I thought they might pop out of his head.
“Exactly. Anyway, this guy was pretending to be a museum curator—”
My phone rang. Saved by the bell. “Yes, Larry.”
“Okay, I followed these two guys to East Tenth Street, and they entered a mosque.”
“Did they spot you?” I knew the answer. Larry and Harry were so inconspicuous they could go unnoticed in a subway car with just one other passenger.
“No, not at all. The mosque is walking distance from Meadows’s office.”
“What about Harry?”
“Meadows went back to his office. Harry confirmed it.”
“Okay, you guys are done for the moment. Let Agnes know in case she has something else for you guys. Thank you. Very well done.”
Patrick pointed out the window. “There’s Feathersmith.”
“Go, Mr. Pat. We’ll walk back to the pub. See you there.”
“Is Agnes at the pub?” Achilles asked.
Patrick smiled as he got up.
“How old are you, Achilles?” I asked as we began our walk back.
“Why Joey, you think I’m too old for Agnes?” His voice rose. I think he was concerned.
I laughed. “No, not at all. Love knows no age. Of course, sometimes money softens the difference. I’m curious because of your multiple life experiences.”
“I’m fifty-five. But, I’ve traveled most of the world as a child with my family and then through my professional career.” He paused. “How old is Agnes?”
My initial reaction when I first met him was the he was late fifties or early sixties. I guess the bald head and Miami sun aged people. Or, maybe he was bullshiting me, concerned that he was too old for Agnes. “You’re too much. Agnes is forty-three, I’m pretty sure.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought. Mid-forties.”
All of a sudden, I got that feeling we all have when we’re being looked at from behind. The hair on the back of my neck was raised, and I had that funny tingling feeling in the back of my head. I kept looking forward and said, “I’m going to stop and pretend I’m pointing to a building.”
“Why? What’s going on?” he asked. Achilles moved to turns his head to look behind us.
“Don’t look,” I said quickly. “Just follow my pointing and play along,” I said. I raised my left arm and pointed. “We’re being followed.”
As I pointed, I turned around and tried to survey the people behind us. Sure enough, a man about twenty yards behind lowered his gaze and turned to look in a store.
45
“We can’t go back to the pub.”
“What’s going on?”
“If we go back to the pub, they’ll be able to connect the dots, and we’ll be exposed.”
“Did you see who’s following us?”
“There’s a man wearing a blue New York Yankees baseball cap about twenty yards behind us. I’m certain he’s tailing us,” I said, reaching for my cell phone.
“What do we do?”
I took out my phone and opened the Uber app. “I’m calling an Uber, and we’ll go back to your hotel.”
We walked slowly a few more steps, and I pretended to be giving Achilles a guided tour. Four minutes later, a dark gray four-door Kia, pulled up on the curb. We got in, leaving the man in the baseball cap behind.
Just before entering the Holland Tunnel, the green traffic light changed to amber. Our driver slowed his car to make a full stop. “Run the light,” I said loudly. Our driver reacted by stepping on the gas and leaving all the other vehicle traffic behind. Looking behind, I noticed a car
stuck behind another car. It beeped at the car in front of it and tried to move around it, but it was stuck.
“Is there a problem, sir?” the driver asked.
“No, but you just made an extra twenty,” I replied.
The driver smiled and nodded.
Midway through the tunnel, I looked behind us again. No tail.
“Who do think—” Achilles started.
“Let’s get back to the hotel, and we’ll discuss,” I said.
We arrived at the Residence Inn fifteen minutes later. I handed the driver the extra-twenty I promised him and went inside the hotel.
As cool as Achilles seemed to have been before, he was now visibly shaken. “Who do you think is following us?” he asked again.
“I don’t know if Mr. Feathersmith had enough time to call anyone. Plus, we entered the Café Arte, rather quickly after we met with him. My guess is that Meadows is having us followed.”
“Well, he’s doing his due diligence.”
“Yeah, but due diligence can be done by research and calling references, not by sticking a tail on us. No, I have a feeling we found our antiquities collector.”
“Now what?”
“Now, now we bring in the big guns.”
“The what?”
“Let’s go to your room. I want to call the FBI.” On my way there, I called Patrick. “Mr. Pat, what’s up with Feathersmith?”
“He stopped at some deli, said hello to a few people and left with a bag. I presume lunch. He did make a call while walking. What’d you want me to do?”
“Pick us up. We’re at the Professor’s hotel.”
“I thought you were going back to the pub?”
“Change of plans. I’ll fill you in later.”
We made our way to the professor’s room. I took a seat by a small table and dialed Marcy.
“Hey hon,” she answered, “you calling to have lunch?”
“Love to, but I can’t. Would you like to get involved in my case?”
“Did you find something?”
I brought Marcy up to date.
When I finished, she asked, “So, what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to ask your boss and see if there’s anything she knows about the mosque on East Tenth Street. Anything at all. Tell her what we’re doing and everything I’ve shared with you, and then call me back.”
“Where are you now?”
I hesitated, thinking perhaps my phone was bugged. But, it was too quick for anyone to have done that. Nevertheless, I was cautious in my reply, “I’m at a hotel. Just talk to her and call me back.”
There was a silence for a few seconds. “Joey, please be careful.”
Before I could reply, she clicked off her phone.
We waited what seemed like an hour. But Marcy called back in fifteen minutes. “Joey, Victoria wants you to come to our office now.”
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“There’s an anti-terrorist task force working out of our building. The mosque you mentioned has been under surveillance. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but—”
“Stop!” I hung up. I then picked up the hotel land line and called Marcy on her office number.
“What just happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know if our phones are safe to talk from. What were you going to say?”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Tell me what you were about to say.”
She whispered, “The task force has an undercover man inside the mosque. He’s been monitoring activities there for a year. They’re about to break something. I don’t have all the details, but that’s why Victoria wants you to come in.” She paused. “Joey, they freaked out here when I told them what you did.”
“Shit happens, right? Anyway, we’re on our way.”
“Who’s we?”
“I’m with Achilles.”
“Oh, they’re going to love that.”
“Whatever. I’m on my way. It may take us forty-five minutes to get there. We’re at the Residence Inn in Jersey where the professor is staying. One more thing, don’t call me on my cell, and don’t use your personal phone. Got it?”
“Just get here. I love you,” she said, hanging up.
The professor was calmer. “We’re going to the FBI’s office? This is getting better by the minute.”
“We’re about to catch some shit from the man. Just don’t say anything while we’re there.”
We were waiting in front of the hotel when Patrick drove up in his old Jeep SUV. “We’re headed to Federal Plaza,” I told Patrick, looking at him from the passenger seat.
“I thought we were going to talk here.”
“Change of plans. Marcy’s boss wants to talk to us.”
A black Suburban, which I immediately associated with a government vehicle, pulled in front of Patrick’s Jeep, blocking his path.
“What the fuck!” Patrick said, his voice low.
The passenger door opened, and the first thing I saw was the gun. “Pull back! Pull back!” I yelled. The man held a pistol on his right hand. The driver and one more man in the back seat opened their doors.
“Hold on!” Patrick said. He stepped on the gas and rammed the Suburban head on.
The passenger, who was almost out of the car, fell to the ground, and his gun bounced to one side. The other two men were stuck in the car, the driver fighting the airbag.
“Get my backpack, Joey, quick!”
I turned my body toward the back seat. Achilles was sprawled sideways on the seat, covering the backpack. “Pull back!” I shouted again.
This time Patrick did as I asked. We pulled back and drove about fifty yards in reverse, through the parking lot of the hotel before Patrick stopped. I grabbed the professor by the back of his suit collar, pushed him to a sitting position, and reached for the backpack, unzipping it.
“They’re coming,” Patrick said.
“Here.” I handed Patrick a Glock 19 and grabbed a second Glock from the backpack. “Achilles, stay down!”
Two of the three men were now running toward us with pistols in hand. The last thing they expected was for us to be armed and ready.
“Take the guy on the left. I’ve got the other one,” I said.
Patrick opened his door and quickly exited the SUV, taking cover behind the door. I did the same and aimed my gun at the unsuspecting man. I could see my target when he opened his eyes wide in disbelief. Almost on cue, both of us fired three shots at our attackers, who were now no more than ten yards in front of us.
As if choreographed, both men flew backward about a foot off the ground. They were both dead before they hit the pavement.
“Stay down, Achilles, we still have another one.”
“I think I’m hurt,” Achilles said, voice quivering.
“Just stay down,” Patrick said.
“Mr. Pat, go left. I’ll go right,” I said. We approached the Suburban from both sides.
It was empty. No sign of the third man. We looked around to make sure he wasn’t hiding, waiting to take a shot. He was gone. Or so we thought.
“What just happened here?” Patrick asked.
Shots rang out from behind Patrick. He fell. I saw the third man running back in the direction of Christopher Columbus Drive. I steadied myself, aimed by Glock, and took the shot. The man fell.
“Mr. Pat!” I called to him. “Are you all right?”
Patrick stood. “I tripped, I’m fine,” he said.
“Are you bleeding?”
“No. I tripped! Did you get him?”
“I think so. I’ll go find him. You check on Doctor P.”
I moved cautiously in the direction of the third man. He was face down, but he was alive. His right hand was reaching for the gun that was only a foot away despite the blood pouring from his right shoulder. I stepped on his arm, and he moaned loudly. I removed a Colt 45 from the pavement and shouted to Patrick, “We’re clear!”
I took pictures of the three men and
texted them to Larry with the message to call me ASAP.
46
I made the injured man walk with me toward our car, and sat him on the pavement. The professor’s source of ‘hurt’ was his head, which I inadvertently bounced against the window when I pulled him off the backpack. “Oh my God, is this what you guys do all the time?” he asked. His eyes were wild with excitement, but his hands were shaking.
Both Patrick and I ignored the question. I pulled out my phone and called Marcy.
“Are you here already?”
“No, Marcy. Let me speak to Victoria.”
“You sound winded, are you all right?”
I tried to slow my breath down, not wanting to give Marcy any reason for concern. “Yeah, we’re fine. Can I speak to her?”
“Joey, I can tell something is wrong.”
How does she know these things? “We’re fine, I need to speak to Victoria.”
“Hang on.”
I heard Marcy click on the phone, then, “Joey, this is Victoria. Are you on your way?”
“Listen, you need to send your people here to take over the scene.” I told her our location.
“What scene?”
“Is Marcy with you?”
“No, I’m in my office. What’s going on?”
I could hear sirens coming from every which way. I gave Victoria a quick rundown of what took place. I could see that Larry was calling and told Victoria to hang on a second.
“Larry,” I said, as I switched calls, “do you recognize any of the photos?”
“Joey, the one guy who looks alive is one of the guys who met with Meadows at the Union Square Café. I don’t recognize the other two guys. They look dead. What happened?”
“I’ll brief you later. Right now, I have the FBI on the other line.” I said, clicking him off.
“Victoria, are you still on?”
She ignored the question. “I have a team on the way. When can you get here?”
“This place is going to be crawling with New Jersey police any moment. It may be a while before I can get out of here, if at all. They will probably want to take us in and question us. But listen, the one guy who is alive is a witness, and he can point to the person who gave this order. Plus, I’m sure he knows about the other killings in Miami and Saint Thomas. You need to pick up Raymond Meadows at NatCity’s main office on Park Avenue.”