Wrecking Team_A Gripping Mystery Suspense Novel

by Ty Patterson

Hidalgo puffed. Sipped deep from his glass and sighed. ‘Maker’s Mark, best American bourbon. Tried it?’

  ‘We don’t drink whiskey.’

  ‘It was just business. Those men weren’t supposed to hurt you.’

  ‘They didn’t. What kind of business?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. You know how it is. But I can tell you this: I wasn’t directly involved.’

  What does that mean? Meghan considered his words, thinking of their implications.

  ‘Someone else asked you to?’ she guessed.

  ‘Ah, you’re smart, too,’ Hidalgo nodded approvingly.

  ‘Who?’

  The fence spread his hands. ‘Can’t tell you.’

  ‘Felix, you’re just a petty criminal,’ she said insolently. ‘Don’t hold yourself up to high standards. Why don’t you save yourself a heap of trouble?’

  ‘Criminal?’ Hidalgo laughed. ‘I run a distribution business. The cops have checked it, several times, and found it satisfactory.’

  Meghan couldn’t help smiling at his chutzpah. I think I could like this dude. Shame he’s a fence.

  ‘We aren’t the cops, however.’ Beth walked over to the bar in the far corner and inspected the bottles. She poured wine into two glasses and handed one to her sister. ‘I’m sure you checked us out before you called Fairchild. We aren’t ordinary security consultants.’

  ‘You have a good reputation,’ Hidalgo admitted, amused at the way they helped themselves.

  ‘We can do things that the law can’t. Like disrupt your distribution business.’

  ‘That’s a threat?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I don’t like threats.’

  ‘We don’t like people who have us followed.’

  ‘What’s in it for me?’

  ‘You have a warehouse on the East River. That’s one of your largest ones, right?’

  Werner had confirmed the links to the warehouse and the fence. In addition, it had identified three others, in different parts of the city.

  Hidalgo blinked, the cigar forgotten. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It’s our job to know. In half an hour, it’ll blow up. The fire services will find that it was arson. But the cops won’t investigate too hard. After all, you’re a criminal. They’ll figure you had it coming.’

  The fence yelled at his men, who came bursting into the room. He fired instructions at them in Spanish and, when they had left, took a larger puff.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ Beth brought out her cell. She touched the screen, turned it around so Hidalgo could see it and showed him a countdown clock. ‘I’ll blow it up right now.’

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ the criminal blustered.

  ‘Why don’t we find out?’ her thumb hovered over her phone.

  ‘Wait!’ Another yell, at which his men entered again. Another round of instructions that didn’t register on them. ‘Call them off, you fools,’ Hidalgo shrieked.

  His heavies left the room to follow his commands.

  ‘Tomorrow, the warehouse in Queens will go up. The day after —’

  ‘I’ll kill you,’ Hidalgo threatened.

  ‘Possible,’ Beth acknowledged, ‘but there are two things you need to consider.’ A finger shot out from her palm. ‘One, we aren’t that easy to kill. Many people have tried, and while we’re still around, they aren’t.’ Another finger extended. ‘If you do manage, you’ll have to deal with our partners.’

  ‘Partners?’

  ‘You must have seen the names on our firm’s website. Our partners. I’m recording this call. It’s getting stored in our servers. Our friends know where we are, who we are with, and what we’re talking about. Believe me, you don’t want to deal with them.’

  Hidalgo emptied his glass and wiped his lips. His eyes turned calculating, his face returning to its normal color.

  ‘His name is Nikolai.’

  ‘Who is he? Nikolai what?’

  ‘Just Nikolai. I used to move stuff for him five years back.’

  ‘What kind of stuff?’

  ‘Turn off that counter,’ he demanded.

  She obliged.

  ‘Stop recording.’

  She killed it.

  ‘Your cell?’ he asked Meghan.

  ‘It’s turned off,’ she replied and showed it to him. ‘This is Beth’s show.’

  ‘Weapons,’ Hidalgo said when he was satisfied. ‘I used to move military assault rifles for him. He imported them, I stored them in my warehouses and shipped them to wherever he needed them.’

  ‘Why did he come to you?’ Meghan took over the questioning.

  ‘I have a reputation … in some circles. I run the best network in the country.’

  ‘You’re nationwide?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hidalgo boasted. ‘The cops don’t know that. It won’t do them any good even if you tell them.’

  ‘Tell us about Nikolai.’

  ‘There’s nothing much to tell. I met him only once. Dark night. Rain. We met at my warehouse. He was wearing a coat and a hat. Never saw his face properly. It was white, pale. That much I know.’

  ‘How did you know it was him?’

  He looked at her pityingly. ‘We have protocols. Pass phrases. Certain things to be done and said before a meeting. He cleared all that. Plus, he brought the money.’

  ‘Why did he stop working with you?’

  Hidalgo raised his hands helplessly. ‘I don’t know. I don’t ask my clients why.’

  ‘How did he approach you this time?’

  Hidalgo reached into his jacket, stopped when two Glocks appeared. ‘My phone,’ he said.

  ‘Carefully,’ Meghan warned.

  He brought out his cell and fiddled with it. ‘You aren’t the only ones who record,’ he said and pressed a button.

  ‘Hidalgo, it’s me.’

  ‘Nikolai?’

  ‘Yes. How are you, my friend?’ the voice asked disinterestedly.

  Male voice, Meghan noted. Bland. She and Beth had come across enough accents for her to place it.

  Russian or East European. Beth had placed it too, going by her expression.

  The pleasantries didn’t last long.

  ‘I need to have two women followed,’ the voice stated.

  ‘Nikolai, I don’t do that kind of work.’

  ‘You will, for me. I have paid an advance. Check your account.’

  ‘Who are these women?’

  ‘Beth Petersen and Meghan Petersen. They have an office on Columbus Avenue.’

  ‘Follow them from when?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘I’ll tell you.’

  ‘You’ll call again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nikolai, following isn’t —’

  The call ended.

  ‘He hung up on me.’

  ‘That call —’

  ‘Two nights back.’

  We were followed yesterday, Meghan mused. We went to Fairchild this morning.

  ‘Has he called?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What will you tell him when he calls?’

  ‘The truth. That you found out about your tails. But he won’t call.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Hidalgo eyed them slyly, ‘You don’t know, do you? It happened just before you entered this room.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Fairchild’s men have filed a report with the cops. Nikolai has people everywhere. Even in the NYPD. He’ll know at once that those two were following you. He won’t call. He’ll distance himself.’

  ‘If he does, you’ll let us know.’ Beth said. It wasn’t a request.

  ‘No. Next thing, you’ll want to tap my phone. Our transaction ends here.’

  They stared at him. He looked back.

  There are other ways to find out if he calls, Meghan thought. Beth took her cue from her sister’s lowered shoulder and didn’t push it.

  ‘That number, let me make a note of it,’ the young
er sister asked.

  Hidalgo read it back for her. ‘It won’t do you much good. In our world, we use —’

  ‘We know how your world operates.’

  ‘What else do you know of him?’

  ‘Nothing more than what I told you.’

  ‘The account he pays from?’

  ‘You’ll have to come back with a warrant,’ Hidalgo said, his face hardening. ‘And even then, it won’t help you. He’ll have several accounts. Some will be set up just for a few days for specific transactions.’

  ‘We can still blow up your warehouse.’

  ‘Go ahead. I fear Nikolai more than you.’

  Meghan looked at him sharply.

  ‘Yes,’ the fence nodded. ‘He’s the most dangerous man I have ever known.’

  ‘You have seen him kill?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen him with a weapon. But I am a good judge of people. Nikolai is cold-blooded, ruthless, and the smartest man I know. We have a network. Very few have heard of him, but those who have, agree with me.’

  ‘Where is he based?’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Hidalgo laughed scornfully. ‘Nikolai is not in this country. We are done.’

  ‘Why didn’t you use your own men? Why go to Fairchild?’

  ‘For following you?’ the fence snorted. ‘My men have better things to do. Fairchild has PIs on retainer. Easier to use them.’

  ‘It would also distance you to an extent.’

  ‘It didn’t work, did it? You’re here.’

  Meghan tossed him her card. ‘Call us if you hear from Nikolai.’

  The fence didn’t reach for it and it fluttered to the floor. He rose and hustled them out of the room. ‘Where are the explosives?’

  Beth smiled sweetly at him.

  ‘There aren’t any. We played you.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘He’s right.’ Beth checked her phone when Meghan nosed the vehicle out of Blue River’s driveway. ‘Ketchum and Kowalski have reported us to the cops. I have several missed calls from Chang.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Meghan grunted, her mind still on Hidalgo’s revelations.

  ‘What will we tell them?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Pizaka and Chang. Are you paying attention?’

  ‘Oh, them. We’ll tell them the truth.’

  The two cops were in their cruiser when the sisters arrived at their office.

  Beth tapped their window and woke Chang up. ‘New York’s finest, sleeping on the job.’

  ‘We clocked off a couple of hours back,’ the officer said as he got out and stretched. ‘Who have you been badgering today? We tried your cells and when you didn’t answer, figured you were busy being your annoying selves.’

  ‘You don’t think much of us, do you?’ Meghan led them to the elevator.

  ‘Well,’ Chang replied, ‘I wouldn’t say that. You put down some badasses, and we get credit for that. That’s a plus for sure.’

  Chang and Pizaka were good friends despite the former’s words and the latter’s aloof attitude. It had taken a while for the sisters to warm up to Pizaka, but once they got to know him, they’d accepted him.

  ‘Where were you?’ the smartly dressed cop asked as they entered the office. He still had his shades on and his shoes gleamed despite the late hour. There could be a TV crew in the twins’ office. One never knew. A good cop was always prepared.

  ‘We met Hidalgo,’ Beth replied and chuckled when Chang’s mouth turned into an O.

  They brought the cops up to speed over coffee and cookies.

  ‘Nikolai.’ Chang scratched his head. ‘We haven’t heard of him, have we?’ He looked at his partner, who shook his head.

  ‘Neither have we. But it’s not an uncommon name. Nothing about this case makes any sense.’ Beth kicked her shoes off in disgust and wiggled her toes. ‘But at least we have a name and a number for him. What about those heavies in the parking lot?’

  ‘Nothing on them,’ Chang said, shaking his head mournfully. ‘Low-level heavies usually have rap sheets. None of those involved in these attempts have one. Baffling.’

  ‘What about other agencies?’

  ‘We’re waiting for a response. None of them had anything on the previous hitters.’

  ‘What Hidalgo said about Nikolai having informers …’

  ‘Possible,’ Chang confessed. ‘We’ll inform the commissioner. He might bring in the IAB, but there isn’t much to go on.’

  The IAB, Internal Affairs Bureau, was tasked with protecting the NYPD’s integrity. Chang’s right, Meghan thought. We don’t even have Nikolai’s full name.

  ‘What about Ketchum and Kowalski?’ she asked.

  ‘We have taken your statement.’ Chang waved a blank page on his notepad. ‘If you pay them off for damages, this will disappear. I think that’s best. It’s their ego that’s hurt.’

  Meghan considered it and then nodded. She didn’t like settling with the PIs, but Chang was right. We did assault them. In any case, we have a fund for such contingencies.

  ‘We’ll run that number for you,’ Chang offered, poised to note it down.

  ‘We’ll do that ourselves, but can you look into arms dealers, going back five years?’

  ‘The NYPD exists to serve the Petersen sisters,’ Chang said in mock sarcasm.

  ‘Zeb?’ Pizaka broke his silence.

  Beth couldn’t help giggling. ‘He’s enjoying Angie Konstantin’s company.’

  Zeb would have smiled reluctantly if he had heard Beth’s description. He was in the living room of the Woodhaven house, which had finally fallen quiet after Angie had disappeared into her room.

  She had griped all day about the lack of entertainment, being cut off from her friends, the lack of activity.

  ‘You don’t even talk,’ she had shouted at him.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘That’s not conversation.’ She had stomped her foot.

  He had prepared a simple dinner for them: beans, rice, slices of chicken in a thick gravy. She had looked at her plate dubiously, an eyebrow rising when she found it palatable.

  ‘Where did you learn to cook?’

  ‘I live alone,’ he said, as if that explained it.

  ‘No wife?’ she cocked her head and looked at his left hand. No ring. ‘No girlfriend? Boyfriend?’

  He ignored her. He had checked out all the cars on the street, many of them registered to the houses on the avenue.

  ‘Have your friends found anything?’

  ‘It’s too early.’

  ‘I thought they were good.’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘I can see why you are alone,’ she said spitefully.

  Zeb didn’t rise to the bait.

  She flung herself on the couch after dinner and flicked through a magazine, throwing angry glances at him as he read a book.

  ‘Is this how you spend your time?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She glared at him as she put in earbuds and turned the music volume to high on her iPod, the only device Zeb permitted for her.

  Her irritation disappeared as she lost herself in the lyrics, her head bobbing, foot tapping, eyes closed. An hour later she mumbled inarticulately and disappeared into her room.

  Zeb checked the windows. All quiet on the outside.

  He took out a burner phone and called Meghan on a number she had messaged him. They would be using throwaway phones and numbers to communicate with one another until they closed the case.

  ‘You’re alive?’

  Her rich, warm voice washed over him.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She’s difficult?’

  ‘You can say that.’

  ‘With you, right now?’

  ‘Nope. Gone to bed.’

  She briefed him swiftly on developments and waited for his reaction.

  ‘What if Nikolai calls Hidalgo?’

  ‘Hidalgo is sure he won’t. In any case, we’ll bug the Blue River tonight … however, it won’t be of any use if that dud
e makes contact elsewhere.’

  ‘It’s the best you can do,’ Zeb said. ‘Those PIs … they could be checking out your routine.’

  Once Nikolai knew that, he could attack Beth and Meghan. That’s assuming it’s him behind all these attempts.

  ‘We’ll be careful,’ Meghan reassured him, knowing where he was going. ‘How long will you be there?’

  ‘Two nights. The day after, I’ll move.’

  He lay down on the couch when he had hung up and stared at the ceiling for a while, but it had no answers.

  The attack came at two am.

  Chapter Twenty

  The front window splintered and a dark shape came through it.

  Zeb was awake in an instant, diving to the floor, rolling desperately as rounds blew out the cushions and tracked him.

  His Glock came to his hand, and he fired over his shoulder, crawling towards the dining table, a stout, wooden piece.

  A round singed his back. He ignored it.

  Just one shooter. No attempts to go upstairs.

  A voice screamed. Angie’s.

  ‘Stay inside,’ he roared. She squeaked a response which he took for a yes.

  The attacker changed mags as he came deeper into the living room. He was moving cautiously, trying to get Zeb in his sights. Zeb lunged off the floor, triggering blindly in the general direction of the intruder, crashed into the table, rolled over it, fell to the floor and, with a heave, turned it to its side.

  Now, I’ve got cover.

  The shooter had sprayed the floor as he followed Zeb’s dive, and now he was peppering the table.

  He was expecting his rounds — an AR15, Zeb guessed — to penetrate the furniture and get through. He fired left to right. Exclaimed in surprise and then ducked when Zeb sent a chair flying, throwing with one hand.

  This attack doesn’t make sense. Angie could escape through the window. Why isn’t the shooter worried about that?

  Zeb got his answer when a second dark figure raced from within the kitchen and headed to the stairs. He threw another chair, snapped a rapid look, saw the shooter swiveling in his direction, seven or eight feet away, well away from the flying furniture.

  And then Zeb kicked at the table with all his strength. It slid on carpet, a heavy missile already slowing down, but it drew the shooter’s attention, who poured rounds at it, none of which penetrated. And then Zeb was firing, his Glock sounding like rolling thunder, triggering from the side of the table, using memory to place the shooter, hearing the slap of rounds hitting flesh.