Now I stepped a little closer. I kicked the purse away from her and leaned forward. I used my left hand to grasp her left arm so I could handcuff her.
Then I felt her weight shift. It was slight, but if you’d been in a street fight, you would know what it meant.
She pushed hard off the cab, knocking us both back on the sidewalk. I stumbled but kept my balance.
Then she spun and extended her right arm. It arced through the air toward my face. I ducked, and the blow missed me. That was when I realized she had a knife of some kind in her hand. It took me a moment to comprehend that it was the stiletto she’d used in the murders.
She wasted no time after the first strike missed me. The woman threw a front kick aimed at my groin.
I blocked it with my right arm, then tried to bring the pistol up again.
She brought the stiletto down and slashed my forearm.
My hand opened involuntarily, and my service weapon clattered to the ground.
The assassin kicked my pistol under the cab and out of my reach.
Blood soaked the shredded sleeve of my jacket. It took a second to register the pain as it shot up my arm.
I took a step back, a little dazed, then faced the assassin as she thrust the stiletto at my heart. She let out a grunt, or maybe it was a “Kiai” she’d learned from her Colombia-based martial-arts instructor.
I shifted a fraction and felt the stiletto skitter across my shirt. That was close.
I lifted my right arm and wrapped my hand around hers—the one that held the stiletto. She was faster than I was and had more pure fighting skill, so I had to use my size advantage. I held on to her hand even as she struck my face with her left elbow.
I lifted her off the ground, then both of us tumbled to the sidewalk. I landed on top of the woman, who, for all her skill, was still seventy pounds lighter than I was.
The stiletto made a clinking noise as it fell onto the sidewalk.
I felt the fight go out of her.
It was over.
Chapter 97
It took a moment to secure the assassin with handcuffs and make sure I had all her weapons. She stood up gracefully even with her hands cuffed. She faced me with a look of defiance.
I held my right forearm in an effort to slow the bleeding from the gash she had given me with that stiletto. Blood dripped onto the white sidewalk in a crazy red pattern.
I felt the anger rise off me. This woman had caused me so much pain.
“What’s your name?”
She gave me a pretty smile and said, “At this time, I’m not going to say anything.”
“You won’t tell me who wants me dead?”
“I think you might have already figured that out.” Then she looked at me as if we were having a conversation. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a police officer as relentless as you.”
“You gave me plenty of motivation.”
“You could’ve always taken your family and gone into hiding.”
“There was another reason why I couldn’t let you slip away.”
She looked intrigued as she said, “And what could that reason possibly be?”
“Antrole Martens.”
“Excuse me?”
“He was my partner who was killed by a hand grenade. Or do you not even pay attention when innocent people are killed?”
“I feel it. After my work is done.”
“His wife and two children feel it every day. And now continue to struggle. Maybe the rest of their lives. There’s no way I could ever run from someone like you.”
The woman shrugged and said, “Too bad. It would’ve saved a lot of heartache for everyone.”
I gave her a hard stare and said, “Will you talk to me? We might be able to do some good.”
She shook her head and said, “I’m afraid I can say nothing more until after I speak to my attorney.”
It was over. I felt a wave of emotion rock through me. I managed to say, “You’re under arrest.”
She just nodded. Then, after a moment, she said, “How did you know where I would run to?”
I saw a patrol car down the street racing toward me. I gave her a little smile. “I’m a New Yorker. I know where the tourists will head.”
Chapter 98
Two weeks after the shoot-out in Brooklyn, the entire family attended a ceremony for Father Alonzo at Holy Name. He had only been out of the hospital for a week, but the city seemed desperate to honor a brave citizen.
The local media had produced dozens of stories about the “hero priest” who’d risked his life. Even the young doctor who’d treated him at the hospital had gained some notoriety, interviewed by the Today show and Fox News.
The media coverage, as well as his storied career in the Colombian national police, attracted visitors from near and far. All the bigwigs from the NYPD, as well as the Catholic archdiocese, sat just behind us with the mayor, though he had a rocky relationship with the police department.
There were a dozen members of the Colombian national police who came to pay their respects. They seemed pleased that they could make a claim on the priest who had helped capture a killer.
Father Alonzo was not required to speak to the crowd, only to stand and accept an acrylic plaque from the police commissioner. He looked stiff and had told me he was a little sore from the bullet.
Seamus sat next to Alonzo during the short ceremony. He was beaming as if he had trained Alonzo in his fighting skills. I knew he had some remarks to make.
I noticed that he sat during the entire service, and it made me worry about his health and stamina. But when the time came, he stepped to the microphone and was the picture of solemn dignity.
He looked down and smiled at his great-grandchildren, just as he did whenever he gave the sermon during the regular Sunday service.
He cleared his throat and had every person in the room staring at him.
Seamus started slowly at first. “Alonzo Garcia makes a difference in the world. How many people can say that? He was a respected police officer in Colombia until God called him to service in the Church. No matter how you look at him—as a cop, as a priest, or as a man—he is an inspiration.
“I can tell you personally, few people have meant more to me in my life.” He looked down at Juliana, and a tear ran down his cheek.
Then I found a tear running down my cheek. Though I’d never admit it to Seamus.
Chapter 99
At the reception following the ceremony, I met many of Alonzo’s former comrades from the Colombian national police. Alonzo sat whenever he could, and I was worried he was getting tired. Seamus was watching him like a mother hen, so I figured he’d keep Alonzo from overdoing it.
One of Alonzo’s early partners was second-in-charge of the entire force, and he was clearly proud of his friend. He stepped over to speak with me.
The tall colonel said, “We’re aware of the woman who was arrested for shooting Alonzo. Alexandra Martinez works on the fringes of the underworld, and there are many rumors. Some people call her the Beautiful Death.”
I said, “She certainly had me running in circles. If it wasn’t for Alonzo, I’d be dead.”
“Every man in this room who came to pay respects from Colombia could say the same thing.”
“I’m sure Alonzo appreciates you guys traveling so far.”
“We were also interested in gathering any information you have on Miss Martinez.”
“She hasn’t said much. But at least we have some clear booking photos and she’s in some computer systems now.”
“You will be able to convict her, correct?”
“I think we have enough. Not just for shooting Alonzo but also for the murder of a receptionist in the building she was escaping from. We’re also looking at several other homicides we believe she was involved in. You can never count on it, but this sure seems like a strong case to me.”
Almost as soon as I was finished speaking to the colonel, a well-dressed man in his early forties extended h
is hand and said, “My name is Oscar.” He had an accent, but I couldn’t tell from what country.
I said, “Are you here with the contingent from the Colombian national police?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, Detective. I am decidedly not with them. I am from a business organization based in Mexico.”
I gave him a sidelong glance and said, “What kind of business organization?”
“The one you’re thinking about right now. The one that wishes you to know they would like to have a truce. They will no longer support any efforts to harm you or anyone associated with you.”
“And why do I receive such an honor?”
“Purely economics. We don’t want trouble. We don’t want violence. Both things cost us money. You got caught up in something that really shouldn’t have escalated. You have my personal and sincere apologies. And my assurances that it will not happen again.”
“Would you care to share that information with any of my coworkers or the visitors from Colombia?”
“I would not. And I was really just showing my respect. This was a courtesy call. You need not look behind every door anymore.”
“And my son?”
“The attack at the prison will never be repeated. He is safe. At least from us.”
“And if I believe you and let down my guard, who’s to say it’s not just a trick?”
“We don’t need to use tricks. We have an army at our disposal. We chose not to use that army and hired someone with a good reputation. She was unable to complete her assignment. And now I’ve completed mine. Choose to believe me or not. But life will continue. Good day, Detective.”
I could’ve stopped him. But what could anyone do? There was no warrant out on him, and it wasn’t a crime to say that you may or may not be associated with a criminal organization.
Something told me his message was sincere. I stepped over to Mary Catherine and gave her a hug. I felt the weight lifted off my shoulders.
As I watched the man walk away, a hand on my arm made me jump.
I spun to see the smiling face of Father Alonzo Garcia.
He said, “A little nervous, are we?”
I shrugged. “We can’t all be hero priests.”
That got a laugh. “You know how silly that is. For men like us, action is the only answer. I took action. That’s it.”
“And in the process saved my daughter. By extension saved me and my whole life.”
I embraced him.
Chapter 100
I attended several of the hearings for Alexandra Martinez. Someone was paying for two of the best lawyers in New York. They were arguing everything from her bond to her immigration status. They wanted her out of jail before trial.
Then the prosecutor stood up. For a change, she had a reason to look smug. She said, “Your Honor, Miss Martinez has been charged in two homicides for which we have reliable eyewitnesses. She’s currently being investigated for as many as six other homicides in New York.
“But before we even worry about any of that, I have to advise the court and counsel for the defendant that the authorities in Italy have contacted me to say they’re currently putting together a warrant for Miss Martinez’s arrest in connection with a murder that occurred in Rome two years ago.”
It was rare that prosecutors had so much ammo when facing high-powered attorneys with wealthy clients. This had to be fun for her. She even milked it a little bit by continuing to stand after she was finished.
A reporter for the New York Daily News slid onto the seat next to me.
He said, “Are there any big cases you’re not involved in?”
“I’m basically just a witness on this one. Why do you care?”
“I’m not sure I buy that whole story about the hero priest. I’d like to get the facts so people could make up their own minds about who’s a hero.”
“The facts are the facts. He saved my life and the lives of several others. Why is that suspect?”
“Because suspicion sells more papers and gets us more clicks on the Internet. It’s also a hell of a lot easier than trying to investigate some kind of fraud at city hall.”
I just turned away and watched the proceedings some more. Life was too short to waste talking to idiots.
I stayed long enough to hear the judge say the words “No bond.”
That was all I was hoping for. At least for now.
Chapter 101
When I got home that evening, I enjoyed my Italian dinner cooked by my Irish fiancée.
Seamus’s grace was particularly on point.
Once we were all holding hands, he said, “Heavenly Father, thank you for allowing us all to be together here.” He couldn’t help but pause and look over at Juliana. “In God’s name we thank you.”
There was a perfectly synchronized “Amen” said by all the kids, Mary Catherine, and me.
After dinner, when everything was cleaned up and the kids were diligently working on homework assignments, Mary Catherine snuggled up next to me on the couch as I stared out at the lights of the city.
She wrapped an arm around my waist and laid her head on my chest. She said, “Michael, I’m ready to get married.”
That was not something I saw coming. It had been one of the foremost issues on my mind until Antrole’s death. Now, hearing this beautiful woman, whom I loved more than anything, say she wanted to marry me, I was at a loss for words.
She sat up and looked me in the eyes. “I’d like to do it sooner rather than later. In fact, I’d like to get married as soon as possible.”
“Is it because you’re afraid that if we wait, Seamus might not be able to preside? He is looking a little frail.”
“That’s part of it. But you’re the rest. You and the kids. I love you, and I can’t think of anything I’d want more than to be married to you and raise these kids.”
I sat up and kissed her. We kissed so long that the kids started to make noises from the dining room, where they were doing their homework. Chrissy said she might be sick. That meant it was a good kiss.
And it wouldn’t be the last one these kids saw.
Epilogue
Five days after Alonzo’s ceremony, the family gathered at our apartment on the Upper West Side. There was a ripple of excitement running through the crowd. The kids had jostled for position on the couch and on the carpet so that they could look into the screen of the new laptop computer I had bought for Trent and Eddie. They were going to need it for the special classes at Columbia University.
Wedged in the middle of the crowd was Seamus, who looked as excited as an eight-year-old at Christmas. I didn’t even fool with the computer. I deferred to Eddie and let him set up the video chat. We were looking at a prison administrator on the screen to make sure our connection was stable.
This was our reward for Brian’s helping out on the case. Sergeant Marcia and I had written up an affidavit detailing Brian’s help on a case that not only hurt a drug cartel but also captured an assassin who was wanted all over the world.
It wasn’t enough to get him released early, but the judge did have him moved to a medium-security youthful offender program at the Mohawk Correctional Facility, in Oneida County. It was closer to us and, after what had happened to Brian, considered much safer. One of the perks was that Brian got to make a weekly phone call via computer. That meant we had a live video feed of him every week.
Brian’s face came on the screen. I pumped my fist as if the Giants had just scored a touchdown. It was a tiny victory, but after all we had been through, it made my heart race with excitement. It was great to see his wide smile as he took in the video feed of his nine brothers and sisters, his father, his great-grandfather, and his soon-to-be stepmother.
Each of the kids got to say hello individually and chat with him for a minute. I’m sure when they put the time limits on these calls, no one at the New York State Department of Corrections considered the possibility that an inmate would have nine siblings.
Then the boys talk
ed to him as a group for a minute.
Ricky said, “How’s the food in there?”
“A little better than Gowanda.”
Eddie said, “What kind of computer are you on right now?”
Brian gave him a quick laugh and said, “It’s no brand name, that’s for sure. One of the classes here is computer technology. These computers were all built by parts ordered in bulk. It’s a big ugly desktop, but it gets the job done.”
I realized that prison life had filed off any ideas Brian might have had about luxury. But he looked good. His smile alone was enough to cheer me up.
Seamus chased away the kids and sat down with me on the couch so the two of us could talk to Brian alone.
My grandfather said, “Are you keeping your priorities straight, Brian?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve signed up for every possible course. I’m trying to read two books a week, and I go to the service in our chapel every Sunday.”
Seamus nodded in approval. “Good lad, good lad.”
I finally had my turn to speak with my son for a few minutes. I told him, “Don’t worry. I haven’t given up on getting you out. I have other angles to work on.”
“I’m not worried, Dad. I know you’ll do your best. Who knows? Like Gramps says, ‘God works in mysterious ways.’”
That was enough for me. No matter what happened or what conflicts I faced on the NYPD, I could rest easy knowing my son believed in me.
And there was no way I was going to let him down.
Michael Bennett, be grateful
you’re alive.
Someone attacked the Thanksgiving Day Parade directly in front of Michael Bennett and his family. The television news called it “Holiday Terror”—Michael Bennett calls it personal. The hunt is on.…
Ambush Page 19