The man immediately pulled John Coyle aside and spoke with him softly.
“I can only operate on one at a time, John,” he said.
John Coyle and the man looked at each other as if they had a decision to make.
That was all Cat heard. A beautiful woman appeared and ushered Cat and Haley to a guest room upstairs. The woman was in her early thirties and pregnant — so either the man’s daughter or his young wife, Cat thought.
The woman didn’t seem put off by the fact that the hands of her two guests were covered with blood. She seemed accustomed to handling the loved ones of gravely injured people. Cat concluded that this woman was, or had been, some kind of a medical practitioner as well.
A doctor, maybe.
But no, the gray-haired man had said he could only operate on one at a time, so that made him the only doctor present.
A nurse, then.
The guest room had two single beds and an adjoining bathroom. The woman retrieved towels from the bathroom for Cat and Haley, then left the room and returned moments later with changes of clothes in two neat piles.
The woman said she was going to bring coffee, then was gone again.
Neither Cat nor Haley touched the clothes, or the coffee when it finally arrived. They didn’t even attempt to wipe the now-dried blood from their hands. Once the woman left them for a final time, they simply sat on the edges of their respective beds and looked at each other.
Two survivors in silence — what needed to be said?
And with nothing to do now but wait.
Cat thought of the waiting she had done the night their father was taken.
She and Johnny and Jeremy and Donnie Fiermonte, all gathered at the house in Ossining.
A house that, without the presence of their father, had seemed so empty.
So helpless back then, and so helpless now.
Haley thought of the hours she and Johnny had waited for their flight out of Vietnam.
She’d been in shock then; despite all that her father had taught her, she’d never seen a person killed, let alone three.
And despite all that Johnny was capable of, she had never seen him up to that moment as anything other than gentle and loving and funny.
That was a year ago, though — a long time.
Now she was the one who had fought her way out of a room — fought for her life, and the life of another.
But she was just as helpless as Cat.
Johnny’s fate was out of her hands.
It wasn’t long before John Coyle appeared in the guest room doorway. Cat and Haley looked at him. By the expression on her father’s face, Cat knew that something was wrong.
“What?” she said.
He thought for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to say what he’d come to tell them.
Finally, he said, “Apparently, Johnny’s spleen was ruptured recently. He’s been bleeding internally.”
Cat and Haley looked at each other.
Haley recalled the car crash in Brooklyn — relived it, really, and briefly, Johnny flying into the front seat from the back, colliding with the dashboard.
Cat said to her father, “That’s why he lost so much blood so quickly.”
He nodded, seemed to Cat to be baffled, almost bewildered. “Dickey was the one who called it, actually,” he said. “He noticed that Johnny’s collarbone had been bothering him. It seems that’s one of the symptoms of a ruptured spleen.” He paused, then added, “If Johnny hadn’t been shot, he could have bled out and died.” He paused once more, then shrugged at the irony and said, “By trying to kill Johnny, Donnie may have saved his life.”
The three were silent for a moment, and then Cat spoke.
“I heard your friend say he could only work on one at a time.”
John Coyle nodded again.
Just like a moment before, he seemed to have something to say now but didn’t quite know how to say it.
Despite his long absences during her childhood, and his complete absence for these past three years, Cat knew her father well enough to know that he was on the verge of tears.
Moved by something, touched — and, again, just a little baffled.
“What is it?” Cat said.
“Dickey told us to take Johnny first.”
A chill ran down Cat’s spine.
“Your friend is working on Johnny now?”
John Coyle nodded. “The bullet passed through without hitting any organs. His spleen needs to be removed. As long as he can come back from the loss of blood, he should be okay.”
Cat looked at Haley again. She saw tears in the redhead’s eyes — tears of relief, clearly.
“I can give blood,” Cat said to her father.
He nodded again, but absently, as if distracted by his thoughts. “Richter gave again. Good thing he’s a big guy.”
Cat thought about that — Richter’s blood now in both Jeremy and Johnny.
“Is Dickey going to make it?” Haley asked.
John Coyle didn’t answer at first. Finally, he shook his head. “One lung has already collapsed. His wounds are more critical, but he insisted that Johnny go first.” He took a breath, then let it out. “Richter’s with him now.”
Cat never thought she would feel sorrow for Dickey McVicker or his son.
But she knew what it was like to lose a father.
“Maybe he’ll hang on long enough for your friend to get to him,” Cat offered.
Again, John Coyle shook his head doubtfully. “I’ve seen chest wounds before. In men a third his age. He doesn’t have long.”
Cat could see tears in his eyes.
She had never fully realized till this moment that her father and Dickey were, in effect, brothers.
Even as a young girl she had viewed Dickey through the eyes of someone who wanted to grow up and go into law enforcement, like her father.
It had never before occurred to her to see Dickey for who he was to her father.
The wayward kid he and his own father had taken in so long ago.
“Is Jeremy here?” Cat said.
“Yes.”
“How is he?”
“His surgery went well.” He paused. “We’re waiting for him to come around, but it looks good.” John Coyle thought for a moment, then shrugged yet again and said, “He always was the strongest. Physically, anyway.”
Cat had never seen her father like this before — distracted, scattered, almost indecisive.
Nearly crippled emotionally by the carnage around him.
Carnage he had wrought.
Carnage, Cat understood, that he had gone into hiding in the first place to prevent.
His two sons shot, his only daughter battered and broken.
It was as if the man had awoken into a nightmare — and who wouldn’t be thrown by that?
Cat immediately wanted to lessen her father’s anguish, and the only thing she could think of that might do that was to suggest they go see Jeremy.
Sit at his side together, talk to him as they waited.
Maybe, just maybe, Jeremy would hear the sound of his father’s voice and strive toward it with all his strength…
She said that, and John Coyle nodded.
But Cat once again read the look on his face.
“You have something else to tell us, don’t you?”
“Maybe you should come downstairs with me, Cat.” He glanced at Haley and said, “Would you be okay on your own here for a few minutes? You could take this opportunity to clean up and change clothes.”
Before Haley could object, which she was clearly about to do, Cat said, “She’s with me, Dad.”
Cat’s father looked at her, was himself about to say something, but before he could, Cat spoke in a tone that said there would be no need for further discussion on the matter.
“Haley’s one of us,” Cat said.
Chapter Sixty-Three
He led them to a dark library, its walls lined with built-in bookshelves that held rows of antique
and leather-bound books, its substantial floor space crowded with various sofas and chairs, and tables topped with Tiffany lamps.
John Coyle, Cat, and Smith were standing face-to-face in the center of the room. Haley was seated on one of the oversize sofas, holding a cup of coffee with trembling hands.
She was remembering her morning coffee with Johnny…How many days ago was it? Just two? That didn’t seem possible.
She and Cat had washed their hands prior to leaving the guest room but still hadn’t changed into the clothes the pregnant woman had brought to them. Haley had decided that she would stay as she was till she knew Johnny was going to be okay. The luxury of cleaning herself wasn’t something she could indulge in while he was fighting for his life.
Smith was the first to speak. He immediately reported that Johnny was still in surgery but that his status was unknown.
There was something in the way he announced this that made it clear to everyone that there was other news as well.
And that it was probably bad news.
Without meaning to, Haley held her breath.
Johnny’s father asked Smith what was going on.
“You won’t like it,” Smith said.
“What?”
“Through the Russians Fiermonte had arranged for a witness against Johnny to come forward. A false witness. The Thai police are waiting for word that Johnny has been arrested here, after which they’ll file another request for extradition with the attorney general. Johnny’s the definition of a flight risk, so it’s safe to say he’d be held without bail pending review of the application.”
“Can you prove that the witness had been arranged by Donnie?”
“No.”
“But you could testify that he told you that.”
Smith hesitated.
Johnny’s father looked at his protégé closely. “What is it, Bill?”
“To be honest, it would be better if I didn’t have to take the stand. I did a number of things over the last three years to maintain my cover that could call into question my credibility as a witness. That’s the best-case scenario. The worst is that my actions would implicate me in some very serious crimes.”
“You could get immunity, Bill.”
“I’d still have to admit to those crimes. In open court, if it got that far. Anyway, I don’t think it’s going to come to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Richter’s men are on their way to Fiermonte’s place right now. With orders to burn it to the ground.”
“Whose orders?” Cat said.
“Dickey’s. He gave Richter several other orders as well. He was talking right up to the end.” Smith paused, then said, “I’m sorry, John. Dickey’s gone.”
It took Johnny’s father a moment to reply.
“How long ago?” he said softly.
“A few minutes.”
“I need you to get Richter right now, tell him to call his men back.”
“It wouldn’t do any good.”
“We could go after them,” Cat suggested.
“I’d leave this one alone, John,” Smith said. “Richter might not be the brightest, and he can be a little single-minded at times, but he’s carrying out his father’s last wishes. If you got in the way, things could get…complicated. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”
“How is that the right thing to do?” Cat said.
“The evidence that proves Johnny and Haley were there can’t be eliminated without affecting the evidence that proves Cat shot Fiermonte in self-defense. And there’s the matter of explaining Dickey’s blood on the kitchen floor, and the dead woman upstairs. Either all the evidence remains, or all of it goes. There’s no middle ground here.”
Johnny’s father was silent as he considered that. Cat was watching him, a look of deep concern on her face.
He said finally, “Can we trust Richter’s men to do a thorough job?”
“They’re going to remove the bodies first, then dispose of them elsewhere. It’ll be like Fiermonte and his people simply disappeared.”
“They’ll need to erase all the footprints and tire tracks outside as well, including their own.”
“Richter knows that.”
Johnny’s father thought for another moment, then said, “The stove in the kitchen is a gas stove, I think.”
Smith nodded. “I told Richter it should look like a gas leak had built up and that a spark from the refrigerator compressor set it off. The house is old, a lot of the wood is rotted. What isn’t destroyed by the explosion will burn to ash, fast. Plus, the place is so isolated that if anyone even hears the explosion, the fire department will have a hell of a time getting to it quickly.”
Haley thought of the blood she had stepped in with her bare feet.
Blood that was on her when she ran from the house and to the Mercedes SUV.
Blood that was on her still — and now in the fabric of the sneakers she was wearing.
“We’ll need to collect everything,” Johnny’s father said. “Our clothes and shoes, just in case.”
Smith nodded again. “I’ll take care of that. And Dickey’s SUV is already on its way to one of his chop shops. It’ll be in pieces in a matter of hours.”
“But what about Morris?” Cat said. “He can place us all at the house. I don’t think he saw what happened inside, but he had to have heard the shots. And he knows who walked out of the house and who didn’t.”
Smith glanced at Haley, as if he wasn’t sure he should answer.
Johnny’s father told him it was okay to speak.
“He’s in the car with Richter’s men,” Smith said. He looked at Johnny’s father and shrugged. “It’s the only way, John.”
Johnny’s father offered no reaction — none that Haley could see — but Cat was clearly alarmed by this.
“They’re going to execute him,” she said. There was a hint of disbelief — and panic — in her voice. “They’re going to kill a New York City detective. In cold blood.”
“A corrupt New York City detective,” Smith corrected. “Who got a lot of people killed.” He let his impatience show, was exhausted, Haley could see that — eyes red, speech slightly slurred. She wondered how long it had been since he slept. Had he even really slept at all in the past three years?
Cat was exhausted, too, and she and Smith were on the verge of a heated exchange when Johnny’s father cut them off.
“Dickey ordered that, too?” he asked Smith. His voice was calm but full of authority. A take-charge man, decisive — Haley saw hints of her Johnny in him.
His words had the effect of soothing those around him. Cat and Smith both immediately backed down.
“Yeah,” Smith said. “It was his final order. He was more concerned about Morris telling the Russians than he was about Morris telling the cops. The Russians would waste no time taking their revenge. Either way, though, Morris was a threat to all of us. Dickey knew there was no way the man could be allowed to live. He gave that order so you wouldn’t have to, John. He used his dying breath to protect you. And your family. You need to know that.”
Johnny’s father was once again silent. Haley noticed that all eyes in the room were on him.
His eyes, however, were on Smith.
Studying him — the man he had trained, the man who had risked his own life for him.
Haley wondered what it was about Johnny’s father that engendered such devotion from men as different as Dickey McVicker and Smith.
But her thoughts were quickly diverted by what Johnny’s father said next.
“Why do I get the sense, Bill, that you have more bad news you need to tell us?”
“I’m waiting for Richter to get a call from his men.”
“What about?”
“It’s a long shot, but…” His voice trailed off.
“What is it, Bill?”
“The last time I saw Gregorian’s son, he was wearing a ballistic vest.”
Johnny’s father nodded, then said, “What le
vel of protection was it?”
“A four.”
Johnny’s father nodded again.
Smith said, “The woods behind the house are the first place Richter’s men will check. I told them to be careful. Gregorian’s son is an animal, and animals are dangerous when they’re wounded.” Smith paused, then said, “We’ll know soon enough if they found him or not. In the meantime, I’ll start collecting everything we need to get rid of.” He looked at Cat, then Haley. “You’ll both want to take a shower. I’ll get some garbage bags and bring them to your room. Make sure you put everything in them before you shower, and then clean up thoroughly.”
Johnny’s father stepped forward and extended his hand.
Smith took it and looked his mentor in the eyes.
They shook hands.
“Thanks, Bill.”
Smith, frazzled, a bundle of raw nerves, took a breath, then let it out and said, “You’re welcome, John.”
“Do you know where Richter is?”
“He was making some calls. He’s running everything now. But he told me to bring you to him when you were ready.”
Haley thought about that — Richter, the man who had always frightened her, in charge of his father’s empire.
Responsible now for her and Johnny’s safety.
Would he keep his father’s promise and protect them, at least till Johnny was able to move and they could run once again, go somewhere far from here and find off-the-books work and a place to live that wouldn’t require the use of their real names?
If there was even such a place.
Johnny’s father said to Cat, “Take care of Haley,” then left the library with Smith.
Cat was still a little dumbfounded. Haley recognized the look — it was the same look she’d seen whenever she looked into a mirror in the days that followed her return to the States.
The days and weeks and months.
A surreal thing, to run from a killing — even a justified killing.
How much more surreal would it be for an FBI agent like Cat, someone who had taken an oath of fidelity, bravery, and integrity?
And while Johnny had killed three strangers in Thailand, Cat had killed a longtime family friend.
The Betrayer Page 44