by Ty Patterson
‘Give me their details.’
He recited their numbers and address.
‘Why do you think I would be there? You think I was that man? Do I look elderly to you?’
‘Have you heard of disguises? That man escaped in a wingsuit. Base-jumped, from what we can work out. That sounds just like you.’
‘Search me.’ He held his hands up. ‘No wingsuit on me. That club will have cameras. You can run your facial recognition program and see if that man’s me. I’m sure the tech you’ve got can see past disguises.’
‘Their cameras were down,’ Quindica spat in disgust. ‘Very conveniently, don’t you think? Several people saw him fly, and there are a few videos floating on the internet. But they’re too dark or blurry.’
‘Cops are searching for anyone who looks like him and his wingsuit,’ the detective glowered at him. ‘He couldn’t have been carrying it around with him. Too noticeable.’
They haven’t found it yet. Nor the hotel, either.
‘Base-jumping. Grenades. This dude must be a Hollywood stuntman,’ Cutter chuckled.
‘Grogan,’ Difiore warned him, low and fierce. ‘This has become personal for you. With Sheller. Back off. Let us do our job. We’ll bring him down.’
No, you can’t. He bit his lip before the words escaped him. Not without help.
78
‘Describe him,’ Gunner commanded the men facing him. ‘Again.’
To his left was Cray. Nails and some of his crew were on the right. Standing in front of him were five men, the senior hitters in Knowles’ cell.
‘He was tall, boss,’ a thug named Crebs responded. ‘White hair. Cane. He was a member.’ He shifted his feet uneasily. ‘He was in the bathroom when you were washing up. You spoke to him. He didn’t look like Grogan.’
The Lions’ founder raged inwardly, though he didn’t let his anger show.
It was Grogan. No one else. He was that close to me. I could have snapped his neck right there.
He hadn’t been paying attention. That was the only excuse he could come up with. Knowles had checked out the bathroom and had assured him it was empty. He and his men were joking about how they had crushed the protesters when the old man entered. No one took a second look at him. Not even Gunner. They were all on an adrenaline high after the fight.
The Lions’ founder had worked it out with Tizzard that he would appear in a disguise, briefly, and then go into the security room to watch the proceedings.
He hadn’t spotted Grogan.
Nails had been with him and relayed everything to him, while Knowles and the other cell leaders spread out their men and checked out the crowd.
None of them had seen the Fixer.
And then the cameras had gone down when the protesters burst in.
A glitch, the head of security informed Tizzard’s team.
Grogan did that, Gunner swore at himself.
‘Was he alone?’ he asked coldly.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Those weren’t grenades or tear gas.’ His cop contacts had confirmed that.
‘We didn’t know that at the time, boss.’ Sweat broke out on Crebs’ forehead. ‘There were a lot of people. It wasn’t easy to get to him.’
‘He was on the balcony. All of you were armed. How hard was it to shoot him?’
‘Not easy, boss,’ another hitter spoke up. ‘He was in the shadows. We couldn’t see him clearly—’
Gunner drew his Sig Sauer from his pocket and shot the hitter between the eyes and blew Crebs’ head off in one move.
His harsh breathing was punctuated by the sound of falling bodies.
‘What are we?’
No one answered.
‘WHAT ARE WE?’
‘WE ARE THE RISING LIONS,’ his men thundered back.
‘That’s right,’ He glowered at the remaining men in front of him. ‘We have survived and grown, despite no one knowing who I am. The world thinks I’m dead. We run drugs all over the country. We own cops and lawyers and bankers and politicians. AND YET WE COULDN’T CAPTURE ONE MAN?’
‘GO!’ he yelled at them, his face red. ‘Find that man.’
The remaining members of Knowles’ gang scampered out.
‘Cray?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Give me a list of five men. I’ll select one of them to replace Knowles.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Have you spoken to our NYPD friends?’
‘Nothing there, boss. They’re looking for this man, too. They don’t have any connection to Grogan.’
I’ll have to plant that suggestion.
‘Their investigation is all over the place, boss. The protesters, how they got inside, the fights, this old man … they haven’t had time to make any progress. The lack of camera footage is stalling them.’
‘Grogan’s working with anyone?’
‘He’s a loner. Other than that woman—’
‘Have you found anything on her?’
‘No, boss.’
‘Nails, anything on your snitch?’
‘No, boss. I spread the word around, like you said, but I don’t know who might have leaked it. It got complicated. There were rumors on social media. Grogan might have seen those and come to the club. I don’t think I have a snitch.’
‘You have. Cray,’ Gunner turned to the hacker. ‘You told me Grogan was friendly with that bodega’s owners?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Nails?’
The Brownsville leader raised his head.
‘Spread the word that you’re going to kill them.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And do it.’
There was more than one way to draw Grogan out of hiding.
And hurt him.
79
‘Have you seen him?’
‘No.’
‘Keep looking.’
Cutter kept playing the three lines over and over again. His phone had gotten them from Knowles’, which had more calls and messages on it, none of which were related to Gunner.
That first speaker sounded like Nails. There was some background noise, however, as if Patchey was relaying the info to someone else.
Cutter inserted the voice file into an audio-editing program and played around with various filters and eliminators. The crease in his forehead smoothed when he heard a voice just before Nails’ last command.
‘Tell him to keep looking.’
That sounded like Sheller. It had been a long time since he had heard the ex-con, but the voice of authority in that order sounded just like him.
He sighed and slid back from his chair. He was in his office, alone, his security set up to warn him of any intruders.
‘Why didn’t I recognize him quickly?’ he asked himself aloud.
Those jowls were as fake as my silver hair. That broken nose as well.
He hadn’t been looking for the killer in the bathroom. He hadn’t anticipated that, which was why his radar hadn’t been working.
‘That’s how you get killed,’ he swore at himself. ‘By being careless.’
He had nothing. No way of discovering where Sheller had gotten to. The cloning software hadn’t provided anything useful.
He crashed his bunched fist on his desk and got to his feet.
What would Sheller do next?
The answer was obvious.
‘Arnedra?’ he rapped out when he got his friend and business partner on the call. ‘Are you safe?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘Just checking. How is it over there?’
‘There’s so much sun here,’ she gushed. ‘I might stay longer.’
‘Take all the time you want. I’ll let you know when it’s all over here.’
‘How are you?’
‘Could be better,’ he admitted and gave her the bare outlines of what had gone down since her departure.
‘I need to be with you,’ she said.
‘You need to go where I know you’re safe,’ he told her fi
rmly. ‘Which is with your sister.’
He threw the phone on the desk, jammed his hands in his pockets and paced.
There had to be a way to bring Sheller out of hiding.
‘Difiore?’ he reached for his phone and dialed another number.
‘Yeah.’
He glanced at it. None of the usual rudeness in her voice. She sounded flat, exhausted.
‘I want to set myself up.’
No response.
‘Are you there?’
‘Yeah. What do you mean?’
‘Let it be known that I’m planning to cooperate with you. That I’ve got info that’s so explosive that the NYPD will take formal statements from me under tight protection.’
‘The Lions will come for you.’ Interest in her voice.
‘They already are looking for me.’
‘Was that you at The Elitist?’
‘Yes or no, Difiore?’
‘Be on your number. I’ll need to check with Peyton, the commish and her boss, Jamison.’
* * *
Rubin was beaming when Mease met him.
‘I just finished with Farley, Parsons, the pollsters … we’re getting there.’
He had gone in front of the cameras in the immediate aftermath of the fights in The Elitist. Those interviews had resumed in the morning when more details emerged of the fire. The base-jumping escape dominated the headlines, which the candidate made full use of.
‘Vigilantes running loose in the city,’ he thundered. ‘Because the police are toothless and powerless.’
Judging by the opinion polls, he had done a great job of presenting himself, and his message was resonating across the country. He still trailed the Veep, but the gap had been reduced to low double-digit points.
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Mease warned him. ‘We’ve got a long way to go.’
‘I know.’ Rubin hadn’t stopped smiling. ‘Look.’ He picked up a few sheets of paper. ‘This is what I’ve been working on.’
The strategist scanned the bulleted lines quickly and looked up in amazement when he had finished.
‘These points are going to be your first legislation?’ he asked in awe.
‘Yeah. Stop all immigration unless it’s to join families. Roll back anti-discrimination laws. Employers should be free to choose who they hire. If bosses don’t like blacks or Jews, they shouldn’t be forced to even consider those candidates. Abortion, gone! None of that women’s-right-to-decide nonsense.’
He chuckled when he noticed the strategist’s fingers tremble in excitement. ‘You should have seen our meeting. We can smell the victory. Calls have been pouring in from all over the country. Donors wanting to contribute. People want to start new PACs and super PACS.’
‘The main parties?’
‘More calls from their Senators and House Representatives from both parties. I took some of them myself. Told them we wouldn’t dilute any of our policies if they came out to support us. All of them agreed.’
‘They want to latch on to our ride. Get positions within government if we win.’
‘Yeah, we’re there, Doug. I can smell it.’
‘Slow down, hotshot. Anything can still happen,’ Mease cautioned him. ‘Go around the country. Capitalize on this wave of support. Speak to small and large crowds. Go, be seen.’
‘That’s what we agreed on,’ Rubin nodded. A far-away look entered his eyes. ‘When you approached me in Otisville, is this what you thought would happen?’
‘No,’ Mease admitted. ‘I thought we would make some waves, become more powerful and influential—’
‘I didn’t dream I had a good shot at becoming president.’
‘Go, make it happen.’
Rubin left the meeting with a spring in his step and a grin on his face.
* * *
‘That worked out better than we expected,’ Mease said as he briefed Gunner later in the day. ‘What your men did at the club was explosive.’ He chuckled at his own joke.
‘We had help,’ the Lions’ founder rumbled. ‘Grogan—’
‘That was him?’ The strategist whipped his head up. ‘The base-jumper?’
‘We set a trap for him. He walked right into it. But he escaped.’
Mease stared at him as his excitement drained away. ‘We told you to—’
‘You don’t tell me to do anything. I’ve brought the campaign to where it is now. Without me, Rubin would be just another no-hope candidate appearing on a few radio shows and the odd TV interview. Relax! He doesn’t know about us. He suspects I am alive, that’s all.’
‘That’s a risk by itself.’
‘It’s no risk to the campaign.’
The accountant thought it through quickly and nodded reluctantly. Gunner had a point. What could Grogan do? Nothing. He and the ex-convict were like two prize fighters circling one another in a ring. Let them go at each other. We’re safe.
‘You plan to take him down?’
‘No. I’m going to crush him,’ Gunner said menacingly.
Mease couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him. ‘Do what you think is best,’ he said calmly. ‘Remember the big prize, though.’
‘I have two prizes,’ the Lions’ founder rumbled. ‘One of them is Grogan. He’s like the icing on the cake.’
80
‘You’re good at surveillance.’ Nails crouched in front of Darrell and looked him in the eye.
‘I think so, sir,’ the teenager stammered as he fought to keep his voice steady.
‘Sir. You heard that? None of you ever call me that,’ the Brownsville leader chuckled as he straightened and faced his men. He clapped his hands to draw attention. ‘Listen up … no, not you,’ he told the sentries at the edge of the lot. ‘You keep watch. We don’t want the pigs to roll up on us.’
‘We’ve got an assignment,’ he told the rest of the gang. ‘A hit.’
Darrell’s chest pounded when a murmur swept through the thugs. A hit. That meant—
‘I’ll be the shooter. I’ll pick four other men. I’ll decide who they’ll be later. But first, we need to do some recon. Darrell here will check out the place.’
‘Where’s that?’ Marv called out.
‘All in good time. For now, only he’ll know. You’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you, Darrell?’
The boy nodded dumbly, aware of everyone’s eyes on him.
‘Great—’
‘I’ll tag with him,’ Manuel intervened. ‘He and I are best buds.’
‘You didn’t hear what I said.’ Nails’ voice hardened. ‘He goes alone. No one else. It’s surveillance, not a street deal. Got it?’
Nails clapped his hands again when Manuel flushed and looked away. ‘Get back to work. We have powder to sell.’
Darrell couldn’t help shuddering when the leader placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘You excited, boy?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded furiously and looked Nails in the eyes before crouching again.
‘You know that bodega I held up? On Lafayette?
The student’s eyes widened.
‘Yeah, that one.’ The gang leader smiled at his reaction. ‘You need to watch it. Find out what time the owners come in and go. Their routine. When they’re alone. Do the cops roll by? If they do, is there a schedule? Any regular customers. What time they drop in. The works.’
Darrell’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he feared Nails would hear it, but it looked like the gangster took his expression for excitement. He clapped the boy on his shoulder and made to leave.
‘Why them?’ the student asked.
‘You mean, why have we decided to kill them? Boss’s orders.’
‘I thought you ran this gang yourself,’ the teenager dared to ask.
‘Nah.’ Nails laughed, clearly flattered that Darrell thought so highly of him. ‘I report to someone. There are many others like me; we all report to the same person.’
‘He never comes here? Your boss?’
> ‘Nope. Too risky. I meet him regularly.’
‘Here?’ Darrell looked around in surprise.
‘No. Another place. Not far from here. Get to work tomorrow.’ Nails fist-bumped the teenager and left.
Calm down, the teenager told himself when he was alone and returning home. He took deep breaths and walked steadily, letting the breeze cool the sweat on his face. The thumping in his chest slowed, but the sickly feeling inside him didn’t go away.
He knew Cutter was friendly with the store’s owners. He had worked that out from the Fixer’s actions during the holdup and the TV coverage that followed.
I should warn him.
What can he do? He’ll be there with the cops and they’ll arrest Nails.
Would that be sufficient to get him and Mama witness protection?
He didn’t think so.
Besides, he didn’t know when the hit would go down.
No, it was better to carry out the recon and warn Cutter when he had all the details.
He nearly tripped when another thought struck him.
What if I record Nails meeting his boss?
81
‘You’ve got nothing else from his phone?’ Cutter referred to Knowles’ cell.
‘Nope.’ Beth pursed her lips. ‘Thrice. That’s how many times we told you. That’s not counting how many times we told you yesterday.’
He grabbed his coffee mug and drank distractedly as he checked out their office. Empty, except for the three of them.
‘You can run voice analysis?’
‘Against what?’ she asked him patiently. ‘One voice is Patchey. We know how he sounds from NYPD’s files. Sheller … we don’t have anything for him.’
‘ADX?’
‘Yeah, there’s a lot of video and audio of him from there, but that’s not the problem. What you’ve got on that call … that’s not big enough to run a sample.’
‘Why do you need confirmation it’s him? You know it’s him, don’t you?’ Meghan peered at him.
‘I need to know where he is!’ Cutter ground out in frustration. ‘And if that was him—’