And he still needed to finish his preparations for his sixth victim. That was more urgent than ever. Once he was eliminated, it was all downhill.
Howard hummed to himself as he packed a duffel bag with a variety of odds and ends – rope, hardware, flashlights, a notebook computer and charger, a burner cell phone, a slim Jim and some other tools useful for liberating a car. Once finished, he looked around the drab little bedroom he had called home since the fire, then made his way to the front door, ready to pack the gear in his car.
He wouldn’t miss his life in the shabby little dwelling – the neighborhood was dangerous, the place was little better than slum housing, and there was no insulation, so in the winter he froze, and in the summer it was sweltering. But he paid bargain rent, which in his circumstances was its biggest appeal.
He only needed a little more time. A matter of days, if he hurried and the stars aligned. That was the story of his life – always needing just a little more time.
But the FBI visit signaled that for Howard time was running out.
The engine creaked over with a groan. He put the transmission into gear and pulled off to go car hunting.
He’d have to work fast.
Very fast.
Chapter 15
Sam pointed to an image on the overhead projector and traced a circle with his finger.
“Right there. See? Long hair in a ponytail, beard, knit cap, wire-rimmed glasses. Dark jacket, carrying a backpack. He next appears about six in the morning the following day.”
The gathered agents peered at the grainy profile frozen on the wall.
The image changed to one of the same man at a different angle. The time stamp showed it as six hours later.
Seth nodded. “It’s the same guy, all right. But there’s hardly proof of anything except he wears the same jacket both coming from and going home. Am I missing something?”
“Yes. What you’re missing is that a man who looks remarkably similar also appears on the cameras at one of the intersections near our latest victim. It looks like the same guy near both crime scenes.”
Sam pressed a button on the remote, and the footage changed again. This time the angle was from farther away. Everyone squinted at the figure making his way down the street.
“The time stamp puts it in the window for the broker’s killing.”
“Agreed. And do we have him leaving, as well?”
“No. That’s one of the problems with that area of the East Side. The coverage isn’t a hundred percent.”
“This guy looks different,” Silver pointed out. “The facial hair isn’t the same. And no cap. We don’t really get a shot of his face in this one, either. I don’t know, Sam. Truthfully, that could be almost anyone – the same man, or any of a quarter million other long-haired pedestrians in New York on any given day.”
“Is it my imagination,” Seth asked, “or does he seem to be deliberately turning away from the camera and holding his hand up to his face?”
“Hard to tell. Looks like he’s talking on a cell phone. Could be deliberate, or could just be the angle.”
Sam finished his presentation with some closing comments and turned on the lights, looking at Silver expectantly.
“Okay. It’s a long way from anything conclusive, Sam, but at least it’s a start. Let’s get the images blown up and see if we can do anything with image enhancement to improve the clarity. The low light isn’t our friend.”
“The cameras are optimized to get license plates and drivers’ faces. They aren’t intended for this. We just got lucky.”
“Noted. But this is the first crack in the case we’ve gotten, assuming that the second man is the same as the one in the first set. What about his clothes? They look completely different. I’m not trying to argue, but other than the fact both of these characters have long hair…do we have anything more?”
“He is wearing different clothes, but I think he moves the same. From the quality of the footage it’s impossible to be sure, but the similarities are significant,” Sam insisted.
Silver looked around the room and nodded at her assembled team.
“Fair enough. Let’s get the image circulated to all law enforcement in the area. Maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody will recognize him.”
“Do you want to go public with it?” Sam asked. “Get it on the news?”
“That seems premature, doesn’t it? I mean, we have him in the vicinity of the scenes, but last time I checked there was no law against being on the streets of New York, even if the timing and locations are highly suspect. I’ll ask Brett to take it up-channel, but my guess is that they shoot down going public with it for the time being. But that doesn’t mean we need to sleep on it. Let’s get it out and see if anything comes back within twenty-four hours. If we don’t get something then I’ll push to make it public.”
“Going public with it could also spook him and drive him underground,” Sam said. “We might never find him then. It’s a risk.”
“Agreed. I think we do as I suggested and take this up tomorrow.”
The meeting broke up, and a few of the agents congratulated Sam. It felt like it could be their first break in the case, and it was his diligence that had paid off. Silver approached him as he was leaving.
“How long will it take to get the images ready for circulation?”
“It’s getting late. I’d say let the techs have it for the rest of the day, and then we can get it out tomorrow morning.”
“Good work, Sam. Let me know when we’re ready to rock.”
“Will do.”
~ ~ ~
Late that afternoon, Silver and Richard sat in the conference room going over his notes on the last victim. He’d been on the line with Washington most of the day, and he’d had a chance to lean on his contacts to dig into the organized crime rumors surrounding the brokerage firm. As he laid out the information he’d gleaned, she was amazed at how seamy the financial industry was the more she learned about it. She’d had no idea – typically when she thought about white collar crime, she envisioned embezzling accountants or crooked CEOs cooking the books.
“What’s truly shocking is that there’s no investigation into this,” Richard said.
“How can that be? A tiny brokerage suddenly swells to where twenty percent of all U.S. market trading is going through it, at a time when the economy is collapsing and the largest banks are howling about being manipulated into the ground by predatory short selling…and nobody raises an eyebrow? It’s all just business as usual? Explain that to me. Because I don’t understand.”
“I know. I can’t believe it myself. I simply had no idea about this until I started looking into connections between this victim and the others. But as incredible as it sounds, that’s the case. This guy went from a boutique broker, really a nothing, to one of the most active houses in the world in a space of a few months – and virtually all of the trading was on the short side.”
“Why isn’t the SEC investigating? This isn’t a smoking gun. This is video footage of a killer holding an Uzi to his victim’s head and pulling the trigger. It’s a no-brainer…”
“I completely agree. But they aren’t doing squat. It’s been four years since the crash, and the statute of limitations will run out in another year…and nothing,” Richard complained. “For the record, I’ve rarely seen anything this cut and dried. But it’s like they’ve gone deaf, dumb and blind.”
“What about the DOJ? What about us? Can’t we do something? I mean the Bureau, not me, obviously. Financial Crimes? Your usual beat?”
“DOJ will only go after financial types after the SEC recommends prosecution. But if the SEC isn’t doing anything, then neither will the DOJ. Remember Masenkoff. He basically had to turn himself in and admit to running the biggest fraud in history before he got arrested. There was no action until he walked through the door with a ‘guilty’ sign around his neck, even though for years most players on Wall Street knew his results couldn’t possibly be true. They ha
d even been warned repeatedly by whistleblowers, and did squat. What does that tell you about the SEC?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing good.”
“Trust me, it’s frustrating.”
“I know it’s not really a part of this investigation, but surely you can do something with this evidence. Maybe lean on your boss again? This is too big to just ignore.”
“Silver, you’re singing to the choir, but there’s nothing I can do. The information is out there – there are websites devoted to it. There have been hearings, and speeches, and outraged fist-shaking. But nobody does anything. It’s like it’s all for show, and nobody wants to know the truth. And the media just ignores it all, so the average person thinks everything must be okay. People have short attention spans. I’ll hit my boss again, but I’m not hopeful.”
“I just can’t believe it. Really. That’s not how things are supposed to work.” Silver shook her head. “I walk into the corner liquor store and stick my gun in the owner’s face and steal four hundred dollars, I’m going to jail, but if I run a brokerage that takes the financial system to the edge of disaster and make billions illegally trading on behalf of the country’s enemies or for criminal syndicates, nobody does anything? That can’t be. It just can’t be, Richard.”
“I hear you. And I’m also telling you that’s exactly what happened and nobody wants to know about it.” He sighed and stretched, then smiled at her. “This stuff gets to me. It’s my specialty, and sometimes I get too close to it. Sorry.”
“No problem. I understand why you’re so passionate about it. It’s got me seeing red now too.”
She studied his expression and felt a stirring of something in her stomach. The same as the other night when they’d kissed. He must have felt it too, because when he glanced at his watch, he did so with an almost elaborate calm.
“I really enjoyed dinner the other night, Silver. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
No kidding. She had, too. A whole lot.
“Me, too. We should definitely do it again.”
“What about tonight? Are you super-busy, or could you fit in a few hours for your hardest working Financial Crimes liaison? You’ve been so busy getting shot and all, I haven’t had a chance to ask…”
A tremble of anxiety fluttered through her, but she didn’t try to duck the question. “I suppose I could see my way clear to working you in. Provided I can get the babysitter again.”
There was an undeniable magnetism to Richard, and she sensed that the pull was mutual. She’d had time to sort out her feelings about the prior dinner date, and she didn’t see any reason to say no to another one.
“Give her a try. If so, I’ll see if I can get us a table someplace nice. I’ve heard good things about a few places in this area.”
“There are world-class restaurants on the lower East Side. Some of the best in the city…” she said.
He stood, his hand brushing hers as he reached for his files. She felt a shiver run down her spine.
“All right, then,” Richard said. “It’s a date. Buzz me to confirm, okay?”
“I will. Want to shoot for seven thirty?”
“Perfect. You want me to give you a ride home?”
“No, let’s plan on meeting at my building. Assuming I can reach the babysitter, and that she’s free. I guess it’s all up to her schedule, now. I’ll let you know.”
Richard smiled. “Talk about power…”
Chapter 16
Howard watched as the two figures entered the building and then nodded to himself when the lights came on in the windows facing the street. This was his second evening of surveillance, and he was ready to move to the next phase of his plan whenever an opportunity presented itself.
He rubbed his eyes, which were burning from the long days and only a few hours of sleep every night. The hours were beginning to wear on him, but he was confident that he’d be done soon enough.
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the visions of horror came unbidden, as they had with increasing regularity of late. His house belched smoke into the sky as streams of high-pressure water futilely arced through the air, and the soot-streaked face of one of the firefighters screamed an impossible message at him as he struggled to break free from his grip and run into the inferno.
The seared remains of his beloved wife being carted out in a body bag, followed by his only daughter – struck down in her prime, a gentle spirit who’d never hurt anyone or anything in her life.
He opened his eyes and realized that he had no answers to the questions that played through his mind whenever the visions came. Why had his angels been torn from him in such a brutal and ugly way? And why his daughter? Why had she been the one to try to rescue her mother from her mad act instead of him? To what end? All he had were questions, and he knew he would never have suitable responses, except that the world was random and chaotic in how it apportioned cruel outcomes, and that evil often prevailed for no good reason.
Howard shook off the memories. He couldn’t afford sentimentality if he was going to be effective. There would be plenty of opportunities for harsh introspection once he was finished – for now, he needed to focus.
He settled in for another long vigil, thankful that he might be able to snatch a few hours of sleep once the hour grew later and the object of his surveillance went down for the night. But the clock was working against him – he would need to make his move soon. He wanted to avoid anything during the daytime, but it was increasingly looking like he might have no choice.
Time was running out.
~ ~ ~
Richard pulled to the curb and put the car in park, then called Silver on his cell.
“I’m downstairs. I got us a last minute reservation at Gramercy Tavern. Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it? It’s one of my favorite restaurants. But I’ll need to change – it’s kind of upscale.”
“Well, hurry up. We’ve got to be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be down in five.”
He hung up and turned on the radio, scanning the airwaves until he found something he liked. Gypsy Kings. Flamenco voices filled the car as guitars strummed furiously, and he tapped his fingers along with the music on the steering wheel.
Ten minutes later, Silver appeared at the front door, looking ravishing in a one-piece black dress cut just above her knees. Richard turned down the radio and got out of the car to greet her.
“Wow. That’s quite an outfit you threw together in nothing flat,” he said approvingly.
“A girl can never go wrong with a black dress. My mom told me that. When in doubt, go black and keep it simple.” She flashed a smile, white teeth dazzling in the twilight.
“I feel underdressed now. Hardly Cary Grant to your Audrey Hepburn.” He gestured to his dark blue Tommy Bahama shirt and black slacks.
“Nonsense. They’ll be more than happy to take your money, either way. Come on. I’m starving, and time’s a wasting.”
Richard opened the passenger door for her. “How’s the bullet wound?”
“You mean the scratch? I’ve had toothaches that hurt worse.” A small exaggeration, but not too much.
“I wonder if you’ll get a medal for being shot in the tush…”
They both laughed.
“Wouldn’t that be typical? Hey, at least it would be a great conversation starter at the local watering hole.”
“Something tells me you won’t be needing that tonight. You’re spoken for,” Richard said, and she liked the way he said it. It was nice to be spoken for. She noted that his arms were well muscled. Not too much, but not too little. She’d only seen him in long-sleeved dress shirts, and upon consideration, she decided that they were exactly right.
“Are you in awe of being in the presence of a genuine FBI combat veteran?” she teased.
“Definitely. It’s impressive. That, and the dress isn’t bad either.”
She felt the tingle in her stomach again and decided that was exactly r
ight, too. She liked that he had such an effect on her.
“Better hit the lights, Kojak, or we’ll never get there in time.”
He made a point of trotting around the car at a jog, then threw open his door and swung behind the wheel. The engine cranked over, and within a few seconds they were threading their way towards the restaurant.
Neither of them registered the SUV parked thirty yards across the street, nor did they notice that the occupant seemed particularly interested in their departure, as well as the departure of the NYPD cruiser that had been sitting a few yards behind them.
~ ~ ~
Silver and Richard settled into their corner table in the mood-lit restaurant and sipped their cosmopolitans appreciatively.
“Everything looks amazing,” Richard said, studying the menu and glancing at the table next to them, where the couple was halfway through their entrées.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
They took their time with their drinks, and when the waiter arrived, Silver ordered the lamb chops, and Richard got the filet and selected a Malbec from the considerable wine list. When the bottle arrived, he sniffed the cork and then nodded approval after tasting a splash of it in his glass.
“You know a lot about wine?” Silver asked, studying the deep, garnet-colored Malbec in her glass.
“This one’s red. I understand they make white ones, too.”
They studied each other’s expressions then both laughed simultaneously.
“So you’re an expert.”
“I wouldn’t say that. But I know what I like.” He held his glass aloft and toasted her. She clinked the lip of her glass against his and took a sip.
“Wow,” Silver said, “that’s really good.”
“You like?”
“Me like.”
The waiter brought bread, and they munched on it as they bantered. By the time the main course arrived, the wine was almost gone. Richard ordered a second bottle.
Silver Justice Page 17