by Barber, Tom
‘Look at it this way. Bleeker served his purpose by making introductions at the rally. Now he’s dead, which saves us the trouble. And we get another $2 mil added to the pot.’
‘I still don’t like it.’
‘But I do. There’s two million on the table. I’m not walking away from that.’ He pulled his cell phone. ‘I’ll set this thing up.’
He pointed at the sealed-off lab.
‘Do me a favour and clean that shit out of there.’
Back at the Counter Terrorism Bureau, Archer and Shepherd had re-joined Josh and Jorgensen in the observation room of the interrogation cell. Marquez was upstairs working with Rach. The four men were standing in silence, watching through the glass as Jacobs talked with his lawyer inside the other room.
‘Shit,’ Jorgensen said. ‘He’s not going to be talking any time soon.’
‘We had him, sir,’ Archer said to Shepherd. ‘He had no idea what Bleeker was up to this morning.’
‘Your comment about needing the money rattled him,’ Shepherd said. ‘And the photo of the dead man shook him further. He’s not in this for terrorism.’
‘He’s in it for money,’ Josh finished.
‘He said something strange in there,’ Archer said.
‘What was that?’
‘Bleeker already had the virus?’
‘So?’ Jorgensen said. ‘Why’s that strange, genius?’
‘Because he was surprised. I think he and Bleeker were planning to buy it from someone else.’
‘But Bleeker already had the virus.’
‘Only because he stole it.’
‘You think he was double-crossing Jacobs?’ Shepherd asked.
‘I think he was planning to.’
As the men thought about this, Marquez stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Shepherd turned to her.
‘Any updates?’
She nodded. ‘CSU found a pay-as-you-go cell phone in a drawer at Dr Tibbs’ apartment. It has a very interesting call history.’
‘Interesting how?’
‘There’s only one number on there. Paul Bleeker’.
‘Oh shit,’ Jorgensen said. ‘So Tibbs is the missing link?’
‘He has to be,’ Marquez said. ‘Apparently the calls stretch back for the last couple of weeks.’
‘Get the two doctors,’ Shepherd asked.
Marquez ducked out. Moments later, she reappeared with Kruger and Maddy, the pair joining the team in the observation room for the interrogation cell.
‘What’s going on?’ Kruger asked.
‘A cell phone was found at Dr Tibbs’ apartment. He’s been in touch with Paul Bleeker for the past fortnight.’
‘What?’
‘He was the leak in your team,’ Shepherd said. ‘That’s how Bleeker knew about the virus. Tibbs must have told him.’
Kruger and Maddy both looked shocked. Shepherd gave them a moment. In the silence, a cell phone in the room started ringing but the room ignored it. Kruger looked surprised and took a seat while he thought the revelation through. Archer glanced at Maddy and saw her frowning, shaking her head. Marquez had noticed it too.
‘Will was such a quiet, gentle guy,’ Maddy said. ‘I can’t believe he’d do something like this.’
‘Never underestimate the appeal of money,’ Jorgensen replied insensitively.
The phone kept ringing.
‘Jesus Christ, will someone answer that?’ Shepherd said.
They looked at each other; it didn’t belong to any of them. Then they all turned in the direction of the ringing cell.
It was rattling and vibrating across the desk behind them, the screen flashing.
It was Jacobs’ phone.
Jacobs and his lawyer were mid-conversation when the door to the interrogation room burst open. Shepherd’s whole team moved swiftly inside, followed by Rach carrying her laptop. A wire was hooked up to Jacobs’ Blackberry, which was still ringing. Rach placed the laptop on the table quickly whilst Shepherd slid the phone in front of Jacobs. It sat there, purring and shifting on the table as the call continued.
Private Number was on the display.
The lawyer turned to the group. ‘This is-’
‘Answer it,’ Shepherd told Jacobs, pointing at the phone. The English lawyer was taken aback. He froze, as the phone continued to ring. ‘Answer it!’ Shepherd shouted at him. ‘On speaker.’
His change in tone jolted Jacobs into action. He lifted a finger and pushed Answer.
‘Hello?’
Pause.
‘Jacobs?’
The voice was Southern.
‘Yes. How did you get this number?’
‘Bleeker’s dead.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘We’ll still meet tonight.’
‘Bleeker never told me where the meet would be.’
‘What?’
‘He never told me where the trade would happen.’
Pause.
‘Tonic East. 10pm. Third floor. You got the money?’
‘Yes.’
‘Two million. I want it transferred into an offshore bank account. I’ll give you the details when we meet. Then you get the item. If you’re a minute late, I’m gone.’
‘Yes. How do I know what you look like?’
Pause.
‘I’ll find you.’
And he hung up.
A moment of silence followed. Then as one, the room exhaled. Shepherd grabbed the phone, making sure the call was disconnected.
‘Now we’re talking,’ he said. ‘Did you get a trace, Rach?’
She shook her head. ‘Too quick.’
Shepherd turned to his team.
‘Tonic. You guys know that place?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jorgensen said. ‘I do. It’s a football bar, corner of East 29th and 3rd. Turns into a club at night.’
Shepherd checked his watch. ‘It’s 1530. The meet is at 2200. That gives us plenty of time to prepare.’
He looked down at Jacobs.
‘You’re going to make that meeting.’
The lawyer, startled by all this, tried to interject. ‘My client and I-’
‘Everyone, follow me,’ Shepherd said, ignoring the man and moving to the door.
At Kearny Medical, Sway had just ended the call.
He remained where he was, looking down at his phone.
‘What?’ Rourke asked.
Sway didn’t answer.
‘What’s up?’
Sway stared at the phone for a few moments longer, thinking.
Then he turned to Rourke. ‘Nothing. We’re on for tonight.’ He pointed at the canisters inside the secured lab. Rourke had activated the purification system and the air was now cleaned. ‘We need to get them stowed.’
‘No rush,’ Rourke said. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you get back from the meet.’
‘What about this place?’
‘Before we leave I’ll rig it up.’
‘If we blow it tonight, that’ll get attention. Set the timer for tomorrow.’
Rourke grinned. ‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’
Sway nodded.
‘I’m going to go prepare,’ he said, walking off towards the lift.
‘Wait. Don’t you need a sample of the virus?’
Sway turned and grinned.
‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’
THIRTYLess than an hour later a whole host of people had gathered inside Briefing Room 5 at the Counter Terrorism Bureau. Rach was at her terminal, same as before. Beside her were the two doctors, Maddy Flood and Kruger. On the left side of the room were Archer, Josh, Jorgensen and Marquez. Sergeant Hendricks and his four-man team were on the other. Archer looked over at Hendricks and felt reassured by his presence. Dark-featured and with a face that rarely broke into a smile, Hendricks was as tough as nails, one of the hardest cops Archer had ever seen. He was a burgeoning legend within the NYPD. Before he came to the Counter Terrorism Bureau, Hendricks had run his own team
out of the 75th in Brooklyn which was regarded as the most dangerous precinct in all of New York. The surrounding area was plagued by violence, bombed-out buildings, barbed wire and almost a daily murder count. But the scary thing was that Hendricks had requested a transfer to the precinct.
He’d wanted to go there.
There were all sorts of rumours about stuff he’d done and most of them were true. His team was gathered beside him, standing in silence. Hendricks had handpicked them himself and they were like a damn wolf-pack, all as gritty and stern-faced as he was. They were the perfect team to work with tonight. Faison and Peterson were also on the other side of the table, sitting and talking quietly between themselves. With his shaved head and hate tattoos Peterson looked incongruous amongst everyone else in the room, but he was arguably the most important person there. He was going to be their eyes and ears at the New Jersey camp tonight.
They all suddenly quietened as Shepherd walked in. He closed the door behind him and walked to the front of the room, standing beside the screen.
By the time he got there, the room was silent.
‘Everyone here?’
He looked around, met with a series of nods.
‘Right. Listen up. I’ll summarise so we’re all on the same page. Late last night, five vials of a lethal pneumonic virus were stolen from a lab complex on the Upper West Side called Flood Microbiology. We’ve accounted for four of these vials and taken down those responsible. Our goal tonight is to secure the fifth and arrest the people in possession of it.’
He pointed at the screen. Rach had pulled up Jacobs’ DMV licence.
‘This man, Alistair Jacobs, was intending to purchase the remaining vial at 2200 tonight. He’s downstairs in one of the interrogation cells. The deal will proceed as planned and we’re going to apprehend the sellers at the trade.’
‘Where, Shep?’ Hendricks asked.
‘A bar stroke nightclub called Tonic East. It’s on the corner of 29th and 3rd. My team and I will be there. When the sellers show up, we’ll take them in and secure the virus.’
Rach pulled up Sway and Rourke’s prison mug shots.
‘These are the two men we’re looking for. Bobby Rourke and Finn Sway, both twenty nine years old, both born in Roller, Texas. They are known leaders of the Texan Chapter of a neo-Nazi group called The Stuttgart Soldiers, a group in which Special Agent Peterson is currently embedded.’
Rach then changed the shot to Wicks and Drexler.
‘These two may also be involved or at the scene.’
The room was silent as everyone examined the mug-shots. After a moment, Rach flicked the shots back to Rourke and Sway.
‘How’s the trade proceeding?’ Faison asked.
‘Sway told him the meet happens on the third floor. Jacobs will call his secondary who’ll begin the transaction into Sway’s offshore bank account. When the transfer’s been confirmed, Sway will hand over the vial containing the virus.’ He turned to his detail. ‘But that call is coming through to Rach here. My team will be dispersed in the crowd undercover. Jacobs will be wearing a wire so we’ll hear everything he’s saying.’
‘How do we know he won’t give Sway a signal?’ one of Hendricks’ team asked.
‘Leverage. Jacobs knows he’s in deep shit. He told us he owes over seven million dollars to a gang who work off the books in the Financial District. Without us, he and his son will be dead by Tuesday night.’
‘But what about when the money doesn’t show up in the account?’
‘By that point, it won’t matter. Jacobs is going to ask to see the vial first. All we need is visual confirmation that Sway has it. Then we take him before he has a chance to move or react.’
He pointed at the screen.
‘We’d move in and take these sons of bitches right now, but nobody knows where the hell they are or where this last vial is. We’ll have to wait for the trade to flush them out. But we do know where their back-up is. And that’s where the rest of you come in.’
Rach clicked a button, and it changed to a map of an industrial estate in New Jersey.
‘The ATF have a man undercover in the group, Special Agent Peterson here. He informed us that Sway and Rourke’s entire Chapter has set up camp on this estate.’
Shepherd looked over at Hendricks.
‘Jake, I need you and your team to stake out the camp, working with Agent-in-Charge Faison and under the ATF’s orders. The virus may show up here if the trade is cancelled or Sway and Rourke have a change of heart. If we can confirm it is at this location, we’re moving in and taking down the whole campsite.’
Hendricks and his team nodded. ‘You got it.’
‘Agent Peterson is going back undercover. He’ll be wearing a mic so you’ll hear everything that’s going on down there. This will be two operations working at the same time. I’ll lead the group at the club. Agent-in-Charge Faison will take charge at the campsite.’
‘What if they plan to release the virus at the club, sir?’ Josh asked. ‘It could be a trap.’
‘That’s highly unlikely. There are two million dollars on the table here, and neither Rourke nor Sway is wealthy. We all know the way criminals think. They won’t pass it up. Questions?’
There were none.
‘My team, stay here. We’ll go into detail about the arrangement at the club. Sergeant Hendricks, you and your squad liaise with Agent Faison and sort out your own arrangements. We’re under their jurisdiction tonight. And remember people, our objective is to secure this last vial of the virus.’
Pause.
‘That’s it.’
The room stirred. As Faison, Peterson and Hendricks’ team walked out, taking the opportunity to introduce themselves, Shepherd moved towards Kruger and Maddy Flood. They had sat through the briefing in silence.
‘I know you’ve both been to hell and back today,’ he said. ‘But if possible, I’d like to keep you around on advisory roles.’
They looked at each other. Neither was convinced.
Maddy turned to Shepherd. ‘To be honest, I just want to go home.’
‘It might be dangerous.’
‘I don’t care.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘OK. I understand.’
He looked at Kruger, who nodded. ‘Me too. I just want a shower and to put an icepack on my face.’
‘Very well. But some detectives go with each of you for the time being. Until this is over, you both have protection.’
Outside Kearny Medical Wicks, Drexler and another man listened in silence as Finn finished outlining his plan. They were standing just outside the entrance, their arms folded against the cold. The newcomer had arrived fifteen minutes ago. Wicks and Drexler had met him before. They were happy to see him and also knew without a doubt that they could trust him.
Finn finished his explanation, then turned to the newcomer.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘Shit, Finn,' the man said. 'Where’s this side of you been hiding? You’re cleverer than I thought.’
Sway grinned.
‘This ties up all the loose ends,’ he said. ‘When this is done, and Bobby’s loaded up the canisters, we’re out of here. There’s plenty of room for you if you want to hitch a ride. Bob’s got some buyers interested in Juarez. We’ll sell the virus then be out of Roller before the end of the week.’
‘That sounds good. I’m sick of this place.’
‘So you’ll do it?’
‘Of course.’
Sway looked at Drexler.
‘You?’
She hawked and spat, nodding. ‘I’m in.’
He turned to Wicks, who nodded, taking a drag on a cigarette. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Great. Now listen close. I’ll outline it one more time.’
THIRTY ONESaturday night in any Manhattan bar was easily the busiest time of the week. Make it seven days before Christmas and pretty much every place with alcohol and a dance floor was packed. That night Tonic East was no exception. The place had three
floors. There were bars on 1, 2 and 3, televisions mounted all over the walls on 1 and 3 whilst 2 was dominated by a large dance-floor and DJ booth. Although it was winter the place was buzzing, the heating and the proximity of other human bodies helping to keep everyone in the place warm.
Shepherd and Marquez were parked around the corner with Jacobs, getting him ready. But they had a man on each level inside the bar. Jorgensen was on 3, Josh on 2. Archer was on the ground floor, facing the entrance, his back to the bar and ignoring everyone around him. Seeing as the building was heated he’d left his jacket in the car outside and was dressed in a grey hoodie and blue jeans, blending right in with the mass of NFL fans scattered around him. He had his right hand by his hip, covering the Sig in the holster hidden under the loose-fitting top. He didn’t want anyone touching or grabbing it by accident. The team were all hooked up with ear pieces and mics tucked into their sleeves so they could communicate instantly without having to pull out a cell phone.
The two doormen checking for ID had been informed of the situation. The manager of the bar had needed a lot of persuasion to convince him to let the detectives take their weapons inside and to allow the trade to happen. But at the end of the day this was an NYPD operation and the outcome was inevitable. He’d accepted he just had to shut up and put up.
Leaning against the bar, Archer shot his cuff and checked his watch.
9:54 pm.
Jacobs would be sent inside any minute now. Archer had scanned everyone he could see from his position, but there was no sign of either Rourke or Sway anywhere.
Shepherd’s voice suddenly came up over his ear piece. ‘Report.’
‘Nothing up here,’ Jorgensen said.
‘Me either,’ said Josh.
‘No sign,’ Archer said.
‘OK, get ready. We’re sending Jacobs in. Sway or Rourke could appear at any minute.’
In the Ford, Shepherd watched Marquez place a sticky mic under the collar of Jacobs’ suit. As she worked, Shepherd glanced at the English senior partner’s face. He looked strained and had been asking to speak to his son. Earlier, he’d been permitted to call a woman looking after the boy and had asked her to watch him a little longer. She’d agreed pleasantly, completely unaware that he was making the call from an NYPD interrogation cell with a group of detectives staring down at him.