Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2)

by p s syron-jones

  “Are you okay to talk about it?” she asked.

  Tina shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t remember anything, it happened so fast.”

  The detective wrote down some details in her notebook before proceeding. “Just go through everything Tina, no matter how small. Okay?”

  Tina placed her cup down on the table and sat up slowly. “Well, the day proceeded as normal until around twelve. I had some lunch in the office then brought out Jane.” Tina picked up the mug and took another mouthful of the soothing liquid. “Well, I went through the chart, you know, checking for markings pre- and post-mortem.” The ME stopped to think: something had slipped her mind. “Wait a minute. The delivery door!”

  McCall looked up. “What about it?” She could see that Tina was trying hard to remember.

  “Someone buzzed the back door like they do when they have something to drop off.”

  The detective perked up with interest. “So who was it?”

  Then she saw the expression on Tina’s face: it had changed from excitement to sorrow.

  “I don’t know,” Tina shook her head sadly. “As I opened the door everything went blank. Next thing I know you’re getting over-friendly with the cuddles.”

  McCall smiled, relieved that their intruder had left a message. She would have hated to have been the one who’d found Tina if it had been too late to save her.

  McCall texted the information about the loading bay to Tooms. Tony was in the security room getting the footage from that day in the hope of catching them, or at least get a car’s licence plate number.

  All the detectives were engaged on the enquiry. Some were on door-to-door enquiries of the buildings near the entrance, and Jenny Thompson was getting the street-cam footage. Captain Brant was back at the precinct coordinating the troops. He was determined to get whoever did it, and that they would pay. He looked out across the half-empty room, thinking: God damn it, Steel, why aren’t you here?

  ELEVEN

  Tia May sat on the seat opposite Steel, who sat back and grinned, remembering the look on poor Grant’s face when it was clear that Tia didn’t fancy him.

  “Well, Mr. Black,” she began. Steel shot her a disappointed look.

  “Surely we’re on first name terms?” She smiled.

  “Well, Antony...”

  Steel’s eyes darted from Tia to the waitress who was approaching.

  “Sorry, am I boring you?” Tia’s words were bitter but her tone was like an angel’s song.

  The waitress’s interested gaze never left John Steel’s face, as she asked,

  “So what can I get for you?”

  “I’ll have a coffee. Thanks.”

  “And I’ll have a rum and Coke,” Tia said loudly as the waitress made to leave, totally ignoring her.

  “Certainly.” The waitress’s gaze was still fixed on the man she so obviously had designs on.

  Steel grinned as Tia growled her words:

  “So, Antony, is your trip only for pleasure, or have you another agenda while you’re aboard this vessel?”

  He heard her words but his thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Hey, Antony, what’s with you?” she snapped jealously. “If you want to bang the waitress, fine! But have the decency to wait until I’ve gone, will you?”

  The Englishman turned back to Tia, frowning in confusion. “What did you say? I’m sorry—”

  Tia started to get up, but he grabbed her hand, forcing her to sit down.

  “That waitress was in the other bar before when we first met. She has been serving at our table at dinner, and now she is here.”

  Tia was too angry to see what he was getting at: she had had a long day and simply wanted to sleep. “So? She probably has an asshole for a boss.”

  He looked over at the waitress once more, as Tia frowned.

  “So why is she making our drinks while there are two bar staff doing nothing?”

  Tia looked over as she caught a glimpse of some white powder being hastily spooned into the glass of cola.

  “We have to go. Now!” Steel’s voice had a tone of urgency.

  The couple made for the door.

  “Sorry,” he apologized to the waitress as they passed. “Must have been the oysters. We have to go.”

  The waitress shot them both an evil stare of disapproval as they raced past.

  “The elevator,” Steel instructed urgently, shooting a glance into the reflective surface of one of the shop windows. Behind them two large men in black T-shirts moved quickly through the crowd. Steel made for a large group of drunken teenagers coming from the Neon Bar. When they mingled with the group he looked back and smiled as he watched the two men were swept into the wall of screaming girls, each one grasping the men’s shirts.

  “Wahoo! Take ‘em off! Take ‘em off!” The girls sang, trying to strip the clothes from the well-built men. As the Steel and Tia reached the elevator, she quickly pressed the call button repeatedly. He watched her frantic button-pressing. “Does that help?” he asked with a sarcastic grin.

  Tia just glared and continued to hammer the button, only stopping to turn round to see that the men had broken free and were now approaching them. “Any ideas?” she asked, panicking.

  “Not really,” he replied, pressing the other call button. Their pursuers growled as a welcome Ding signalled the elevator’s doors opening, and as they did, Tia reached inside and pressed for the elevator to go up.

  “Wait, hold the door a second!” he yelled, fearful that she was going without him.

  “Come on!” she yelled as the men broke into a sprint. As the doors closed the larger man’s face was right up against the glass door, his breath clouding the glass as if he was an angry bull. As they moved upwards, Steel just smiled slightly. They looked down, watching the figures grow smaller as they rose higher.

  “Okay.” Steel did not move, just stood still, staring downwards. “Who were they and why are people trying to kill you?”

  She stood, silent, so silent that he could hear himself breathe.

  He turned slightly. “What do they want with you and what do your friends want with me?”

  She could hear the anger building in his voice but strangely, he still retained rigid control. She knew if he wanted to, he could have probably have taken those men apart. She stood still, her eyes fixed on the doors.

  “Fine,” he snapped disinterestedly “Tell you what. Next time you have a party, don’t invite me, will you?” His hand reached for the buttons to get off at the next floor even though it was not his.

  Her hand shot forward and rested on his.

  “Please, Antony, don’t.” Her eyes were tearful but, he judged, she was more upset because she was afraid, not because she was feeling remorse.

  “Okay,” he relented. “We can talk in my room.” Steel pressed the button for his floor. “My room is better than yours. Talking there, means that way your friends can hear what we say.”

  Steel entered his room first, having placed the key card into the slot next to the door to activate the room’s power. The lights came on slowly, illuminating the darkened corners. Steel had deliberately left all the lights in the room switched on, so he had no nasty surprises on return. Tia stood in the doorway while he walked around his room, carefully checking for anything out of place. He raised a hand and waved her in.

  Tia came in quickly after locking the door behind her, and made straight for the bed. She sat on the cushioned mattress, her body cramped together, looking like a child that was preparing herself for a scolding. Steel walked to the selection of drinks on a small drinks table, and, picking up a glass, he turned towards the pale-faced Tia.

  “You want a drink?” he asked. “Sure you do, I’ll get you one.” He poured two large glasses of Johnnie Walker Red and brought them over.

  “Here,” he said as he handed across her drink.

  Tia looked up at him. “Sorry, I don’t...”

  He just glared at her and thrust the glass forwards. She took the glass wi
th both hands and drank as he sat himself in an armchair beside her. He waited for her to begin, realising there was no point putting her under pressure. She was in shock. All pressurizing her would do, would be to button her up even more, and he didn’t have time.

  Tia thought she could read most people—after all, it was her job. However, she could not read the man who sat in front of, this mysterious man who somehow found himself in the right place at the right time to rescue her from trouble. She swirled the golden liquid in the glass, watching it comb the sides of the crystalline material.

  It struck her that Antony Black’s clothes and behaviour suggested wealth, and the confident way he held himself suggested he was well educated, from a comfortable moneyed background. However, there was something else about him, something dark, that was somewhat terrifying.

  “Are we really going to play this guessing game?” he asked her bitterly.

  Tia looked across at him, her expression defiant.

  “And you, Mr Black. Tell me, who do you work for?”

  He smiled as he saw the old Tia was back, not the shocked helpless girl she’d been just now. He liked the strong-willed Tia much better.

  “What do you mean? You know what I do,” he answered. The dance of bluff and counter bluff was on, and he loved it.

  “Oh come on, Antony! I mean you get into my room, then beat the crap out of some Scottish psycho. Sure, you said you did some work for the police but come on. They don’t train civilians to half kill people like you did.”

  He smiled, feeling that he could see how her mind was working, and enjoying the game. But as he looked at the bedside clock he realised it was nearly morning and tomorrow they would dock in Spain.

  “All right,” he told her. “I am a private consultant working for the NYPD.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re a private dick?”

  “Detective,” he corrected her with a grin.

  “No, I was right the first time—and I guess that suits you.”

  He smiled coolly. “Okay, I probably deserved that. But let’s get back to tonight’s escapades. I want to know who and why.”

  She took another sip from the glass. The liquid seemed the tickle the back of the throat, causing her to cough slightly.

  “I am afraid I don’t really have any answers for you, not yet.”

  He could sense she was even more confused than he was. But she was holding something back and he couldn’t really blame her for doing so. After all he was doing exactly the same thing. He thought for a moment. How did she know if HE was telling the truth? After all he could be (and he was) lying his ass off, but she seemed to believe him. Then it struck him, that her friends next door who were listening to their conversation would probably be checking his words as they spoke. No doubt, they were right now scanning the internet for his cover story (which he had conveniently posted before leaving on the cruise).

  There was a bang on the wall from next door.

  “Well, Mr. Black. I mean Antony. It seems that you check out okay,” Tia announced with a smile.

  “And you, Miss May. Or rather Tia. Who do you work for? And why are people trying to kill you?”

  Her smile vanished.

  “Look, Tia,” he said in exasperation. “I just want to know what the bloody hell is going on.”

  They both looked up at his door as someone knocked three times. Tia stood up and walked across, and he heard faint voices in the background. As he downed the last of his drink, he heard Tia approach but he didn’t look up.

  “What did you order, room service?” he said, then looked up and saw the thin forms of Bob and Jane Stewart standing next to Tia.

  “I believe you have questions, Mr. Black,” Tia remarked.

  Steel’s mouth fell open. “Well, I must admit I didn’t see that coming.”

  The body of Jane Doe was gone. CSU had found nothing. The area was now clean. Whoever had taken her had done it cleanly and quickly and that annoyed the hell out of Tooms. The detectives had entered and left by the loading area, but after looking at the CCTV footage they came up empty. The film hadn’t been tampered with; however, the cameras themselves had been.

  One of the CSU team had found a piece of a photograph that showed the loading bay. It had been placed over the camera lens to show an empty street. Whoever it was knew that getting to the feed would be impossible, so they incapacitated the source.

  McCall sat on the edge of Tony’s desk as they all ran through what they had found out. Tooms sat staring at the photo through the clear evidence bag. “What I don’t get is, why do this?” he muttered. “Why not shut off the camera?” His thoughts were a million miles away.

  “Who knows?” Tony shrugged. “Maybe they thought that a downed camera would attract too much attention. They’ve seen too many spy movies?”

  McCall could see reasoning as regards the photo. “Okay, so they plant the photo over the lens, but when did they do it and how?” She explored the various options. “How did they know the angle?”

  Everyone looked puzzled for a second.

  “The camera angle had to be just right,” she explained. “So how did they know it?”

  “Well they must have seen it somehow.” Jenny gave her opinion as she came into the room carrying a tray of coffees.

  “Yes but how?” Sam McCall wondered. “The room is secured by a one-key access. There is always a guard in there so no one can just slip in.” McCall could feel her blood sugar race in her bloodstream as her adrenaline began to build.

  “So someone got hold of the feed somehow, tampered with a junction box or something,” Tony said, picking up the hot cup, shaking off the splash of coffee that had spilled onto his hand.

  “Okay, they got hold of the feed,” Sam answered him. “But why put the photo over the lens, rather than direct the feed to an external one, from a portable player or something? No. This photo was left there on purpose.”

  McCall stood up and headed for an empty white board. Using a magnetic grip she pinned the photo to the top left corner.

  Taking a blue board marker, she wrote:

  WHY PHOTO AND NOT RE-ROUTE FEED?

  HOW DID THEY KNOW ANGLE?

  HOW DID THEY FIX IT WITHOUT BEEN SEEN?

  “Okay, what else have we got?” Sam McCall asked them.

  They all flicked open their notebooks.

  “First,” Sam began the briefing, “we know they didn’t want to kill Tina.”

  Everyone looked up, confused and shocked.

  “It’s obvious,” she went on. “If they’d wanted to kill her they’d have done it. No. Someone left two messages at the desk. One of them was for me, the other for Tooms. Why?”

  Brant seemed intrigued, saying,

  “How do you know it wasn’t Tina who left them?”

  McCall noted down a time on the board.

  “Because I spoke to the desk sergeant and he said he got the first call, which was for me, at ten-fifteen. The second call, which was for Tooms,” McCall nodded in his direction,

  “Came in at ten-twenty. Tooms said the voice was male, and sounded as if the guy was middle-aged. At first he thought it was an orderly passing on a message, but when I checked, Tina has only had one and that was two years ago.” McCall looked back at the board.

  “No. Someone wanted her alive.”

  Brant took a large mug from the tray—it was the new-looking black one with a large metal NYPD badge embossed on its side.

  “So what else have we got, Tony?”

  Tony put his cup down and flicked through his notes.

  “Well the tapes showed zip, and we know why. Nobody saw anything unusual. In other words they saw nothing. CSU will send the report up as soon as they have something.”

  Brant’s face soured.

  “So we got nothing, is that what you mean?”

  None of them wanted to admit it but it was true.

  “How’s Tina doing?” asked Brant, clearly concerned about the ME.

  “She says she
is fine, she’s at home at the moment,” Sam assured him. “Don’t worry—I have a uniform outside her apartment, just in case.”

  Brant nodded. He felt she was wrong to have left hospital so soon, but knew he would have done the same thing.

  “I’ll pop round later to see if she’s okay,” McCall said, feeling guilty she was not there now.

  McCall thought for a moment before speaking. “Tony, you said that there was no change with the camera feed?”

  He nodded as he took a sip of coffee.

  “Nothing at all?”

  His expression was blank.

  “What I’m getting at is, was there normal traffic every day or was it empty like this?”

  Brant could sense that the female detective was on to something.

  “There was normal traffic until that morning,” Tony told her.

  She smiled and moved to the board.

  “Okay. So at some point from the last time anything was seen until ten, that’s when it was changed. Tony, go back over it and find the last point, and get us a time line.”

  Tony stood up and put his cup down.

  “You got it.” He was about to leave when McCall’s cell phone buzzed to life on Tony’s desk. Brant picked it up and read the caller ID. It was none other than John Steel.

  Brant pressed the answer button and listened for his voice. “McCall?” he called across. “It’s Steel. Look.”

  “No shit!” yelled the captain into the phone. “Look, let me—”

  Steel was trying to explain something, but the captain had an axe to grind and Steel was getting the rough edge of his tongue.

  “Let me tell you something, Mister. You wanted on to this team, and where are you? On a goddamn cruise!”

  There was a silence on Steel’s end of the line. He knew better than to interrupt his erstwhile boss.

  “Things are getting bad here,” Brant snapped. “And you’re sunning it?” The captain felt like throwing the phone across the room, but he knew it wouldn’t achieve anything. “What do you mean, where’s McCall?” At that point, Captain Brant realised what must have been going through Steel’s mind. After all, he had answered McCall’s cell phone.