by Blake Banner
“Nothing. Just go up, open the door.”
She took a step up. The man was ten paces away. I saw his right elbow jut out and snapped, “No! Don’t! Get down!”
His hand was out and he was running, aiming. I heard my voice bellow, “Get down!”
Fire seemed to spit from his extended arm, once, twice, three times. I dropped and heard a slug smack and whine off the neighbor’s steps. Another smacked into our wall under the bow window. The third showered red brick dust over my head from the wall in front of me. By then, I had my .45 in my hand. I stood and took aim. He was already aiming at me, ten or twelve feet away. I heard Dehan scream, “Stone! No!”
His weapon spat a second before mine, but by then, Dehan was already colliding with me, knocking me to the ground. A searing heat in my left shoulder told me I’d been hit, but as I crashed on the sidewalk, with Dehan on top of me, I was thinking we were sitting targets. So I let off two rounds blindly in his general direction.
When I opened my eyes, it was to see his retreating form, running unsteadily on the icy sidewalk, and Dehan, in her coat, gloves and woolly hat, hurtling after him.
I scrambled to my feet. Shards of pain pierced my winded chest, but I ignored them and took off after Dehan. Down the road, tires squealed and headlamps blinded me. I shielded my eyes and saw Dehan seem to levitate and slam her boots into the guy’s back. He sprawled to the ground on his face and she landed with one knee on his back. The car was accelerating toward her. I screamed, “Dehan! The car!”
I could see she had his right arm pulled back and was twisting it savagely. I could hear her shouting at him: “Who do you work for? Who do you work for?”
Then the car was screaming to a halt, skidding and fishtailing on the snow. Dehan was jumping, rolling for cover. A hail of bullets hit the sidewalk in her wake, lifting a mist of snow and cement dust. The guy was staggering to his feet, running for the car. I was bellowing, “NYPD! Freeze! Freeze!”
I emptied two rounds blindly into the vehicle. I heard a thunk of metal and the shattering of glass. The passenger door opened and the guy clambered in. Then the car hurtled away down the road.
I ran to Dehan. “”Are you hurt?”
She stood. “I’m OK! You?”
“Yeah, I’m OK.”
She was dialing her phone as she stepped toward me. “Detective Dehan, I want a BOLO out on a dark blue Audi A8, old model, maybe twenty-sixteen, license plate G-A something, last two numbers a six and a three. Two males, late twenties, early thirties, possibly injured. One short-haired, six foot, well built, black leather coat and blue jeans. Possible broken fingers on right hand. Both armed and very dangerous, Car has a bullet hole in front right wing and a shattered windshield. I also need a Crime Scene team at my house. Yeah, Haight Avenue.” She hung up. “You’re hit.”
“It’s just a graze.” I laughed. “Your flying tackle did more damage than the slug.”
“You are one crazy son of a bitch, Stone. You stood up in his line of fire. It’s a miracle you weren’t killed.”
“Another two strides and he would have taken us both out. You know that. I had to stop him.”
“Come on, you big brute. Let’s get you inside.”
Far off, I could hear the howl of sirens approaching across the night. As we walked, I said, “Did he tell you anything? You were going to break his arm. That’s illegal, you know? You are not allowed to break prisoner’s arms.”
“I was only bluffing. I would only have dislocated his shoulder. But no, all he said was agh, agh. But he wasn’t wearing gloves.”
“What do you mean? He would have said more if he’d had gloves on?”
She smiled as we reached the front steps and pulled a Glock 19 from her coat pocket, wrapped in a handkerchief. “Prints,” she said simply. “Am I a good girl? Do you think Santa will bring me tickets to Goa this year?”
“You are some piece of work, Dehan. I am in awe.”
“Awe? Really?”
She giggled. Two patrol cars turned in off Rhinelande Avenue and accelerated toward us. As we watched them pull up, she said, “He didn’t give us very long, did he? Did he know we had decided not to drop the case? Has he got a source? Or was this guy only intended to scare us?”
I watched the lights pulsing red and blue on the snow and the officers climbing out and moving toward us. “Whichever way you look at it,” I said, “it is not coherent.”
SIXTEEN
I took the gun from Dehan and put it into an evidence bag from my pocket. Gomez and Smith were the first to get to us, closely followed by Derringer and Hoffmeier. I handed the gun to Gomez.
“Hoffmeier, you and Derringer go with Detective Dehan and cordon off the area. Find where the car was parked, cordon that off too. You never know, there might be a cigarette butt or something. Gomez, I want you to take this to the lab. I’ll call ahead and tell them you’re coming. If Joe is still there, you hand it to him personally. If not, whoever is standing in for him. This has to be processed tonight. Scram.”
She took it and she and Smith withdrew at speed, with the siren blaring. While Dehan returned to the scene of the fight, with Hoffmeier and Derringer, I called Joe at the lab.
“Good evening, John!”
“You still at the lab?”
“I was just putting my coat on, why?”
“Couple of guys just tried to pop me and Dehan with a Glock 19.”
“Oh, that was you, was it? A team is on its way. They just left.”
“Yeah, Dehan managed to wrestle the piece out of the shooter’s hand.”
Joe burst out laughing. “She’s one in a million!”
“No argument from me. She probably saved my life. Anyway, the gun is on its way to the lab right now in a patrol car. Sergeant Gomez has it. There’s a BOLO out on the shooters and their vehicle…”
“And you’d like the prints to go with it. I’ll do it myself, John, and run them. I’ll let you know the moment we get a match.”
“I appreciate that, Joe. Thanks.”
I hung up and called the inspector.
“John, good evening, what can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you at home, sir.” He muttered something about not at all and I went on, “Two men just tried to shoot us outside our front door.”
“Good Heavens, man! Are you all right? And Carmen?”
“Yes, we’re fine, thank you, sir. She managed to get most of the registration of the car, I put two rounds into it and there is a BOLO out. Dehan also managed to wrestle the gun from the shooter’s hand. She may have broken his fingers in the process. His prints are being run as we speak.”
“That girl is something, isn’t she!”
“Yes, sir. Now, here’s the thing. This had to be Costas, and I want him arrested right now.”
“Yes, I see… How can you be so certain?”
“It can’t be anybody else. It has panic written all over it and the only person panicking right now is Costas. Simple process of elimination. He told us to drop the case and accept the confession. I said I wouldn’t and as soon as I get home there is a car waiting for me and the shooter tries to kill us both. It’s Costas.”
“I’ll have a car sent to his house and have him brought in.” He hesitated. “You are sure about this, John…?”
“One hundred percent. I’m going to have something to eat and get a few hours sleep. I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning. Have them let me know when he’s in custody, will you?”
“Right, right. Of course I will. Get some rest. Good work.”
The Crime Scene van had arrived while I was talking. Liz Greene was heading the team and we ran through the events together, setting yellow markers where each event took place. We managed to recover most of the slugs and she took my Colt in for comparison. We recovered the spent shells from the Glock, but found nothing where the Audi had been parked. After that, there was little to do but wait for the results to come back from the lab.
When they
had gone, we went inside and Dehan tended to my shoulder. My coat, my jacket and my shirt were ruined, and there was a channel gouged out of my upper arm, one inch long and a quarter of an inch deep. It hurt like hell but I refused to show it, and two aspirins and a glass of Bushmills made it tolerable. At half past nine, when we were putting the dishes in the dishwasher, the phone rang.
“Detective Stone?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Gomez, sir. Deputy Inspector John Newman asked me to let you know as soon as we had Assistant District Attorney Varu…”
“Varufakis.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, in custody. We have him in custody, sir, at the 43rd.”
“Thank you, Gomez. Good work.”
I hung up and looked at Dehan, where she was hunkered down, pressing buttons on the dishwasher. It started to hum and she stood.
“Varufakis is in custody.”
“Good. So it’s over. Now we have a drink each, you put your good arm around me, we watch something totally mindless on TV, and then you carry me up to the bedroom.”
“Sounds like barbarian heaven.”
“I think so.”
* * *
It didn’t happen in exactly that order, but next morning at eight, we were at the station. Costas was upstairs in interrogation room three and I was on the phone talking to Liz Greene, from the lab. She was saying, “His name is Peter Yeltsin. He is wanted in Russia on several counts of murder, extortion and drug trafficking, and he is wanted in California, Arizona and Texas for questioning on similar matters. I hope they catch him, he’s a very dangerous man.”
“They found the car last night. There were bloodstains, so it looks like they’re both hurt. They’ll show up before long. Thanks, Liz.”
I hung up. Dehan was standing, waiting. I said, “The shooter is linked to the Russian Mafia, a hard case. We were lucky.”
She shook her head. “No, you were lucky. I was skilled.” She jerked her head. “Come on, let’s go talk to this son of a bitch. Apparently he has waived his right to an attorney. Inspector says the DA is on her way.”
We climbed the stairs and pushed into the room. He didn’t look up. He looked gray and drawn in his orange jump suit. We sat opposite him. Dehan went through the formalities and started recording.
I said, “You know the problem with the Russians, Costas? They are big and bold, but they are not subtle. If you want to terrorize a neighborhood, the Russians are your go to guys. But if you want a nice, subtle job of assassination, the Israelis, the British, the Chinese, the Japanese. Efficient, tidy, get the job done and vanish. But the Russians, they’ll mess it up every time.”
He didn’t answer. I said, “You’re not wondering why I am talking to you about the Russian Mafia, Costas?” He still said nothing. “Come on, you waived your right to an attorney, you may as well speak to us.”
“You haven’t asked me a question yet, Detective. What do you want me to say?”
“All right, let’s get to the questions. Do you know Peter Yeltsin?”
He closed his eyes and went a shade grayer. “Yes, I know him.”
“Did you hire him to have us killed?”
“No.”
Dehan slammed her hand down on the table. Costas leaned back. She leaned forward and yelled in his face. “You’re lying!”
“I did not hire him to kill you! I hired him to scare you! It wasn’t even my idea! It was his!”
I laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “Come on, Costas! You know that cuts no ice. If he had killed us, you would have been as liable for murder as he was. He attempted to murder us and you are liable for conspiracy to murder and attempted murder.”
“That was never my intention. All I wanted was to scare you into accepting Nielsen’s confession. You were going to destroy my life!”
I made a face like he’d said something reasonable and I was thinking about it. “Yes, let’s talk about Am Nielsen. Did you employ Yeltsin to do that job, too?”
“That was suicide and you know it! You can’t pin that on me!”
“Nielsen was murdered, Costas.”
“What is this, your ridiculous theory about how his voice was all wrong?”
“Partly that, yes.”
“So, here we go, the NYPD up to its old tricks. You’ve got me for trying to save my marriage and my family, after making one, stupid mistake, in trying to understand my own sexuality and my gender ambiguity, and because of the rampant, homophobic, Republican prejudices of your partner, you are now out to destroy me and pin every unsolved case you can find on me! Truth and Justice, the American way! The president would be proud of you!”
Dehan looked at me, then looked at Costas. “You done?”
“Go ahead, do your worst. I slept with a man, I must be a morally twisted monster. Haven’t you got some cases of cannibalism and torturing of babies you can pin on me?”
“Now are you done?”
“Go ahead.”
“Because there is the small matter of the bruising on his arms and on the back of his head, consistent with having been held face down, and the water in his lungs. See, he did drown, but he did not drown in the Harlem. He drowned in a bath, or a sink. The water in his lungs was tap water.”
“No…”
I nodded. “Yes, so you had better start talking, Costas. Because we are interrogating Yeltsin too, and here’s the interesting thing about Yeltsin. They want him in Russia on several counts of murder, drug trafficking, extortion—you know the kind of thing. And Russian prisons are not quite as comfortable as ours, especially as Yeltsin has a few enemies back home he is not keen to run into. So in exchange for a lenient sentence here, I think Peter Yeltsin will be keen to be cooperative.”
Costas’ eyes had gone hollow and he looked like he might throw up. “I had nothing to do with Am’s murder. I am not a killer. I panicked when you refused to close the case, only because I was scared my wife and kids would get to know about my affair with Jose. It was a stupid thing to do, but I told him, just fire a couple of time over their heads, then get out of there!”
Dehan sighed like she was bored. “I’m hearing a lot of words there, Varufakis, but I ain’t hearing no content. You already told us all that. Now, let’s start where Dr. Jose Robles tells you about the LightYear Corporation’s offer.”
He buried his face in his hands and I heard him mutter, “Oh, dear God…”
“What happened, Costas? Did Robles start turning on you? Did he threaten to tell your wife, your boss? Did he threaten to leak it to the press that you hung out at the Dare 2 Dream?”
“I don’t hang out there! I went there once!”
“On whose suggestion?”
“His, of course!”
“And now he was turning that against you, threatening you with it, just for laughs.”
He didn’t answer. I said, “Is that what happened, Costas?”
“Yes, kind of.”
Dehan pressed him again. “So when he told you about the LightYear Corporation’s offer, you went to Am and told him that Robles was planning to take the offer and cut him out.”
“No, that’s not how it happened.”
“You persuaded Agnes to go out for the night. Where did you send her? To Dr. Meigh’s?”
“No.”
“You called Robles and you and Am waited for him, and when he came in, you shot him.”
“No…” He shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“No?” She stood and leaned across the table, pointing her finger at him. “Come on, Costas! You know how this works! Do you really think you can get away with this? We have your admission on tape that you tried to scare us off the investigation! That means one thing and one thing only, goddammit! It means you’re guilty!”
Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead and I could see his hands were shaking. “I asked the deputy inspector to appoint a team who would dig deep because I wanted to find out who had killed Jose. I would not have done such a stupid thing if I had ki
lled him myself…”
Dehan didn’t let him finish: “Unless you had framed Agnes!”
“But Gutierrez already suspected her! Why would I…”
“And that’s a question you are going to enjoy asking the jury! Right? Come on, Costas! You know we can do this all day! You conspired to assassinate two police officers to cover up your crime. You’re a DA, for crying out loud! You know how this works! The sooner you come clean, the easier it goes!”
He drew breath to answer, but I asked him, “How did you meet Am?”
“What?”
“How did you meet Am, Costas?”
“I… At Jose’s house. He was leaving one day as I was arriving.”
“Were they lovers?”
“I… I don’t know. Possibly.”
“Were you interested in Am? Sexually?”
He hesitated, frowned, then shook his head. “No! You’re confusing me. No. I mean, he was good looking, but…”
“You stayed in contact.”
“Not really…”
“This is easy for us to check, Costas. Besides…” I gave a small laugh. “You either stayed in touch or you didn’t. ‘Not really’ means you spoke again. When and why?”
“All right! I called him! Once!”
“What for?”
“To ask him out for a drink.”
Dehan uttered an exclamation under her breath and looked away. I nodded and gave a look that suggested we were guys and a woman would never understand the way we operate. “OK, let’s take this easy. One step at a time.” He began to relax. “So, when Jose came to you for legal advice about LightYear’s offer, what did you advise him?”
“I told him it was very dangerous. The offer was huge, he would have become a very rich man, but he would have been in breach of contract as well as guilty of various criminal offenses.”
Dehan interrupted. “Just let me ask you something. You say you don’t know if Am and Jose were lovers. When you saw Am leaving Jose’s house, what the hell did you think they had been doing? Playing cards?”
Costas bridled. “I imagined they had been discussing work. They were collaborating, remember!”