Ryan Lock 01 - Lockdown

by Sean Black

  As Don sulked in the back, Lock dropped back down on to the Long Island Expressway. Angel had somehow managed to push her head under the steering wheel and rest it on Lock’s lap again. It made shifting gears tricky. Lock rested one hand on the steering wheel and stroked the dog’s head with the other, grateful for the relative calm and the time it gave him to decide what to do next.

  He’d leave the FBI to chase down Cody Parker. They could have Don too. That left him back at square one. And neatly etched inside that square was a dead woman.

  Lock stopped off at a convenience store next to the West Jericho Turnpike and picked up a bag of dried dog food, bottled water, and two bowls. Angel dined al fresco in the freezing parking lot before sauntering over to a patch of grass at the rear of the store and carefully selecting the right spot to take a leak. Then she followed Lock back to the car and jumped on the front seat.

  ‘This is a temporary arrangement, so don’t go getting any ideas,’ he told her. ‘And if they somehow need you to cure cancer I’m kicking your ass to the curb. Comprende?’

  Angel cocked her head.

  ‘And you can knock off cute shit like that.’

  Don leaned forward through the gap between the front seats. ‘So where are we going now?’

  ‘We aren’t going anywhere,’ Lock replied. ‘I’m going back to work, and you’re going to jail.’

  Thirty-one

  What Federal Plaza really needed was a bigger set of revolving doors, thought Lock as he pushed Don in one direction while Ty was being led out by Frisk in the other.

  ‘Trade you,’ said Lock, propelling Don towards Frisk.

  ‘I was letting him go anyway,’ said Frisk with a nod of the head towards Ty.

  ‘Really? I thought damaging federal property was a serious offence.’

  Ty took in Don’s limp hand. ‘So’s breaking some guy’s wrist.’

  Frisk reached down to tickle Angel’s ear and noticed the scar. ‘So what’d the dog do to you?’

  ‘She was like that when I found her,’ Lock said. He glanced back at Don. ‘For the record, so was he.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I don’t think he believes you,’ said Ty.

  ‘Being suspicious is what I’m paid to be,’ Frisk said. He jerked his head towards Don. ‘What’s his story?’

  ‘Black sheep of the Stokes family.’

  ‘That must take some application.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. But he did find Cody Parker for me.’

  This seemed to pique Frisk’s attention. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Gone,’ said Lock.

  ‘But you saw him?’

  ‘Briefly.’

  ‘You see the boy?’

  ‘I don’t think he has him.’

  This got a reaction from all three men. Don seemed the most surprised. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,’ he said.

  Lock silenced him with a glance. ‘When I want your opinion, Donald, I’ll be sure to give it to you.’

  ‘So how come you think Parker doesn’t have the boy?’ Frisk asked.

  ‘He’s not the type.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Hey, I spoke to him. More than you guys have managed.’

  ‘And then you let him go.’

  ‘He escaped. There’s a difference.’

  Frisk put a hand on Don Stokes’ shoulder. ‘OK, well, let me see what I can get from this chump.’

  ‘You might want to get him some medical attention for that wrist. He caught it in the car door when Parker was making a run for it.’

  Ty and Lock waited until they were a block clear before they spoke.

  ‘So what’s really going on?’ Ty asked.

  ‘What I told Frisk. Apart from Don getting his hand stuck in the car door. I broke it.’

  ‘Well, duh.’

  ‘Ever decreasing circles, Tyrone. Whisper it, but I don’t think the animal rights people have Josh Hulme.’

  ‘So who does?’

  ‘Maybe it’s just a straight K and R.’

  ‘Mighty big coincidence.’

  ‘Or not. Meditech’s in the news. Everyone knows they’re big enough to have a sizeable policy. Kidnapper’s not going to go near someone like Van Straten for fear of getting offed, so they grab the kid of the chief research scientist. Week before, it could have been the CEO of Microsoft. We just got unlucky.’

  ‘Only Richard Hulme isn’t covered.’

  ‘Could be they didn’t know that.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘I can’t get past the au pair.’

  ‘Because she’s Russian?’

  ‘What’s one of the fastest growing crimes for profit internationally over the past five years?’

  ‘Kidnap for ransom.’

  ‘And who has led the way?’

  ‘Islamists, Colombians and Russians.’

  ‘Except the Colombians stay on their own turf, as do the Islamists – which leaves the Russians. The wave’s been moving west though. Remember that banker’s family they took in Frankfurt? And the stockbroker in London? He traded half his firm’s cash reserve without anyone knowing. It was only going to be a matter of time before they made it to North America. And not knowing the territory, they go after whoever has the highest profile and the lowest security.’

  ‘But there ain’t been no ransom demand or warning of any kind, man. I don’t buy it,’ Ty said.

  Lock chewed his bottom lip. ‘No . . . but explain Natalya getting into that car with Josh Hulme for me.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Me either.’

  Thirty-two

  It seemed like a long time since Lock had been in Carrie’s apartment but it couldn’t have been more than three or four months. Not one to follow any set of rules, Carrie had invited him back there pretty much on the first date, stressing that she wasn’t normally that kind of girl. He wasn’t normally that sort of guy either, but the attraction between them had been both immediate and powerful, more connection than hook-up. Being back here, especially with all the shit that had been flying, calmed Lock.

  He’d called Carrie from his car and she’d met him at the outdoor rink at the Rockefeller Center before suggesting that it might be warmer back at her apartment. Lock hadn’t thought to argue.

  As he hung his jacket in the hall closet, it hit him just how much he’d missed her. The intensity of work had allowed him to push those feelings to the side. But the quietly ordered domesticity of her apartment, the fresh flowers in a vase on the coffee table, the sharp smell of furniture polish, the warm air flowing gently through the floor vents, all of it conspired to send a wave of regret through him.

  Any sense of an opportunity missed was compounded as soon as he flopped down on the couch. He glanced over at the framed photographs on the mahogany sideboard. Lock was familiar with most of them, apart from one recent addition.

  It must have been taken on a skiing trip. Carrie was standing with her arms wrapped around a man’s waist, both of them grinning for the camera like newlyweds. He was about Lock’s age with an expensively acquired natural tan and not so naturally acquired bleached teeth. Lock hated him on sight.

  Carrie walked in from the bedroom, having changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She saw Lock looking at the picture. ‘That’s Paul,’ she said. ‘He’s one of our producers. Divorced last year. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.’ She seemed keen to get past the awkwardness of the moment.

  ‘Hey, it’s a free country,’ Lock came back, a little too quick to be convincing.

  ‘He’s a really great guy. You’d like him.’

  ‘I doubt that somehow.’

  In a show of support, Angel jumped up on to the couch, lay down next to Lock and began to lick her genitals.

  ‘Well, this is awkward,’ he said, averting his gaze from the dog.

  ‘Gal’s got to have a hobby, right?’

  ‘We still talking about Paul?’

  Ca
rrie laughed.

  ‘So, is it serious?’

  ‘Oh, Ryan. So if I said to you right now that I’ll ditch Paul and we can give it another try, what would you say?’

  He knew where this was going. Like a trial lawyer, Carrie’s profession ensured that she rarely asked a question she didn’t know the answer to.

  ‘I’d say I have a little boy to find.’

  ‘And I love you for that, but it doesn’t get us anywhere, now does it?’

  They lapsed into silence. Angel finished licking herself and made a move to snuffle Lock’s face. ‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but you’re really not my type,’ Lock said to the dog, gently deflecting her head with one hand.

  Carrie busied herself preparing some pasta and salad while Lock opened a bottle of red wine. She could, he thought, make even something as mundane as boiling water seem elegant. Everything she did was so precise, done with such attention to detail.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ She crossed to a stool, picked up her bag, pulled out a folder, handed it to Lock. ‘Everything you always wanted to know about Cody Parker but were afraid to ask.’

  Carrie had accumulated not just the regular press clippings, she’d also gotten hold of arrest reports, court transcripts from Cody’s early transgressions of the law, and some classified profile and wire tap information from the JTTF.

  ‘How’d you get all this stuff?’

  ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

  ‘Long as I eat first,’ Lock said, settling down to speed-read through the mass of information.

  Don must have been right about the influence of Cody’s mom on his beliefs because his criminal record started early. Fourteen in fact. But almost every offence was against property. He was prime suspect in the exhumation and dumping of Eleanor Van Straten, but even that, it could be argued, involved an inanimate object. The only thing that came even close was a bomb threat against a construction company building a new animal testing and research facility down by the former Brooklyn Naval Yard. The client was Meditech.

  ‘Who’d you get to do this piece of research?’ Lock slid the piece of paper across the marble towards Carrie.

  ‘That would have been me.’

  ‘Well, don’t go clearing any space for that Pulitzer on your shelves just yet.’

  ‘Oh, and why’s that?’

  ‘Because I know all of Meditech’s facilities. And I’ve never heard of one down at the naval yard.’

  Carrie nibbled on a piece of radicchio. ‘I’ll double-check for you, if y’like.’

  ‘Probably someone else’s typo. Lot of these companies have similar names.’

  ‘So what do you say to Cody Parker taking Josh Hulme?’

  Lock picked up the file. ‘Don’t see it from any of this. Y’know, he was dropping some hints that all roads lead back to Meditech.’

  ‘Of course they do. And 9/11 was organized by the CIA. And the Jewish-controlled media are in on the whole thing.’

  ‘He did say one thing that made me think though.’

  Carrie crossed to the sink and began to rinse the rest of the radicchio under the cold tap. ‘And what was that?’

  ‘Did you hear about this contract that Meditech is going after with the Pentagon?’

  Carrie shrugged, shaking the excess water off the lettuce and placing it in a bowl on the counter. ‘So what? The government’s been pumping billions into biotech companies ever since it realized the Department of Defense couldn’t keep up. You should know that. There’s been forty-four billion dollars handed out since 2001. Every pharma and biotech company’s fighting each other to get on the federal teat.’

  ‘Bio-terror is bullshit. Terrorists that are any good go low tech. Fertilizer. Boxcutters. Stuff that’s easy to acquire,’ Lock said, passing Carrie a glass of red.

  ‘What about someone slipping something into the water?’

  ‘It’s possible, I guess.’

  He took a sip of wine.

  ‘Would you do some digging for me?’

  ‘Into this contract?’

  ‘And Richard Hulme. I still never got out of him why he resigned.’

  Carrie grimaced. ‘Me either.’

  Lock knew this was a rare admission. It wasn’t something that happened to her very often.

  ‘Can I give you some advice, Ryan?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘When I’m trying to break a story I always try to keep it simple. It’s easy to see things that aren’t there. Make connections that don’t exist.’

  ‘Like this contract with the Pentagon?’

  ‘Precisely. Think about it for a second. If anything, wouldn’t a contract like that make it less likely for Meditech to give up on animal testing, not more?’

  ‘That’s what Cody Parker said. But Meditech have given up testing.’

  ‘No, they said they had. Those are two different things.’

  Thirty-three

  The Kensington Nanny and Au Pair occupied a small corner of the top floor of a five-storey walk-up within spitting distance of Alphabet City. Ty had tracked it down as the company Meditech had used to source childcare for its senior employees. ‘Had’ being the operative word. Several complaints that the people referred were wholly unsuitable to care for goldfish, never mind children, had led to it being dropped as an outside contractor.

  On the fourth floor, Lock and Ty both had to stop to catch their breath.

  ‘Man, we are some unfit motherfuckers,’ Ty observed, gulping for air.

  ‘Hey, I just got out of hospital, what’s your excuse?’

  ‘Too much good living.’

  They continued on to the top floor. The door leading into the office was ajar and they could hear a woman inside fielding calls. Lock pushed it open with the toe of his boot and they walked in.

  The woman appeared to be in her late forties. Holding the phone in one hand, she rifled through a stack of papers on the desk in front of her. A cup of coffee sat full and untouched next to the papers, the milk congealing in a white paste on the top. The rest of the office was a mess, papers scattered randomly over every conceivable surface. ‘Yes, and I’m very sorry that things haven’t worked out, but I simply don’t have anyone else available at the moment,’ she was saying into the phone. She acknowledged Lock and Ty’s presence by holding up her hand and waving them in, directing them to two seats on the opposite side of her desk with another sweeping gesture.

  Lock picked up the stack of files that were resting on top of his chair and laid them down on top of a filing cabinet.

  ‘Listen, I have someone in the office right now,’ the woman continued. ‘If anyone becomes available you’re top of my list.’

  Lock could still hear the person on the other end of the line as she put the phone down on them.

  When she spoke, the English accent seemed to drop away, revealing something more akin to Brooklyn. ‘Just so you both know, I’ve got a three-month wait list before I can find someone to mind your little bundle of joy.’

  ‘Er, we’re not together,’ Lock objected.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, checking out Ty from head to toe before diverting her gaze back to Lock, ‘he is a little out of your league, sweetie.’

  Ty snickered as Lock tried to decide whether or not to be offended.

  ‘Hey, you guys aren’t nannies by any chance, are you?’ she asked with a beleaguered smile.

  ‘Only for grown-ups,’ Ty smiled. ‘And I’m most definitely, one hundred per cent, straight.’

  Only Ty could turn this into a hook-up opportunity, thought Lock.

  ‘This how you find your staff? Anyone who manages to hit the door?’ Lock asked.

  ‘You with the FBI? Because I’ve already told one of your guys everything I know. Shit, you’re not a reporter, are you? Because if you are I’m making no comment.’

  ‘We’re here in a private capacity, Ms . . .’

  ‘Lauren Palowsky.’

  ‘Ms Palowksy. Josh Hulme’s fat
her asked us to help find him.’ Lock deliberately kept Meditech’s name out of it.

  ‘The FBI said I shouldn’t discuss any of this.’

  ‘The FBI are fully aware of our involvement,’ Lock assured her.

  ‘Then speak to them.’

  Lock’s face set, any trace of amiability falling away. ‘I’m speaking to you. And if you don’t mind me saying, you seem remarkably composed for someone who’s had an employee brutally murdered and the child who they were looking after kidnapped, and possibly murdered too.’

  Lauren studied the film of milk floating on top of her morning coffee. ‘I’m trying not to think about it. But let’s be clear about one thing: I didn’t employ Natalya. I’m a broker, that’s all.’

  The phone rang again, but Lauren let it go to voicemail.

  ‘Your lawyer tell you to say that?’

  ‘No. And anyway, don’t you think I’ve been worried sick about that child since I heard?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. You tell me.’

  She looked down at her desk, grabbed a random handful of papers, held them up at him. ‘All these people are looking for someone to parent their children because they don’t have the time. They all want Mary Poppins, but they’re only prepared to pay minimum wage. Then when something goes wrong, suddenly it’s my fault.’

  ‘I’m just trying to figure out what happened,’ Lock said, lowering his voice and leaning forward. ‘Tell me about Natalya.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell, really. Same story as most of the girls who contact me looking for work. Her English wasn’t great, but a lot better than some. She seemed pleasant enough.’

  ‘How long had she been in the country?’

  ‘Not long, from what I could tell.’

  ‘Years? Months? Weeks?’