Two S.W.A.T officers aim their automatic rifles at them.
The S.W.A.T team pulls them on board as the rotor blades slice away the abseil ropes.
McKenzie lays on his front as the S.W.A.T team cuff his wrists behind him.
“Search them,” a S.W.A.T sergeant orders.
McKenzie reaches down into the back pocket of his pants. His fingers trace over the face of his phone and hit dial. “Now would be a good time to get us out of here,” Mackenzie shouts.
“Who you talking to?” the sergeant shouts.
McKenzie smiles and shakes his head.
“Cuff the girl,” the sergeant says and get us on the ground.
The S.W.A.T team stands and stares at Madison. Green lightning sparks swirl around her arms and legs.
“Are you nuts, Sarge?” a swat officer shouts. “What the hell are you?”
Madison sinks to the floor of the copter. “I don’t know,” she says. “They call me Hysteria.”
“You got that right, kid,” the sergeant says looking back at the mayhem stretching back down on Fifth Avenue. He reaches for a set of cuffs in his jacket. “Hold out your wrists.”
She shakes her head. “Please, stay away,” she says. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Land this thing now,” the Sarge shouts at the pilot and steps towards Madison.
“Don’t Sarge,” a SWAT officer say and tries to hold him back.
Sarge touches Madison’s wrists. The green lightning unfurls itself from her arms and like a cobra snaps at the Sarge’s hands. Slithers up his hands and arms and wraps itself around his throat.
“Help me,” Sarge shouts.
Two S.W.A.T officers aim their weapon at Madison. Their weapons shaking in their hands. Sweat pouring off their faces. “Release him,” one says. “Or I shoot.”
“Not in here, moron,” the pilot shouts. “Tazer her.”
A S.W.A.T. officer reaches for a tazer. Aims at Madison, Squeezes the trigger.
Madison is thrown back across the copter. Green lightning explodes out across the interior.
McKenzie kicks at the back of the knee of the tazer officer and barrels him out of the copter.
The helicopter stutters. Coughs. Spirals towards the ground.
Another copter draws alongside. Maybe twenty feet. The side door slides back. Damien waves.
“Jump,” McKenzie shouts.
Madison seems to stare at Damien. Shakes her head. “I can’t,” she screams.
“Madison,” McKenzie shouts. “You need to trust me. So you trust me?”
She shakes her head. Bites her lip. Nods.
“Then do it,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Madison leaps from the S.W.A.T chopper and twists through the air.
McKenzie steps back to the far side of the helicopter and take a run up. Hurling himself out of the copter.
Madison lands on top of Damien.
“Welcome home,” he says.
“Coming through,” McKenzie shouts and lands on top of Madison. His legs dangling out the door. He feels himself topples backwards. Tries to reach out to steady himself. But his cuffs restrict his balance. He begins to fall back out the copter.
The S.W.A.T helicopter hits the ground and bursts into a fireball singeing McKenzie’s legs.
Damien grabs McKenzie’s shirt. “I could let you die,” he says.
“You need me,” Mackenzie says.
“Not any longer,” Damien says.
Madison knocks Damien to one side and grabs McKenzie’s shirt. Hauls him into the copter as the fireball spits up at them.
“They’re safe,” Damien shouts to the pilot and turns to McKenzie. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Chapter Thirty Four: Run And Live Or Stay And Die
Under the trees of gold and red overlooking the manicured graves, Rodriguez feels the cold wind being the first drops of rain.
Rodriguez watches the cop car pull up on the corner far from the service. The driver lets the engine ticking over. Winds down the window and bites into a hamburger.
She quietly steps out of the shadows. She approaches the car on the driver’s blind side. Opens the passenger door and slips into the empty seat.
The driver gawps at her and lets his hamburger fall from his mouth and roll down the front of his uniform.
“You always were a pig, McCarthy,” Rodriguez says and smiles.
“Half the precinct got a bet you’re out the country already, Rodriquez,” he says.
“Yeah and the other half just want to see me strung up by my stripes,” she says.
McCarthy laughs. “Lieutenant gave me a message for you.”
Rodriguez feels her stomach tighten. She slides herself down the seat as she looks through the rear window and checks the side mirrors.
“Relax,” McCarthy says. “It’s best for everyone if you give yourself up.”
“Ain’t going to happen until I catch Hector’s killer.”
“Lieutenant said he got the FBI to back off for another 72 hours,” McCarthy says. “After that it’s a free for all. Dead or alive.”
“What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”
“You’re the lieutenant’s next promotion.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Rodriguez says.
“That give you enough time to catch this guy?”
She nods. Leans over, licks the relish off McCarthy’s chin, and says, “With a little help McCarthy.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” McCarthy says.
“So what you bring me?” she says looking at two packages by her feet.
“The blue one is your freedom package,” McCarthy says. “Franks looked the other way and I put this together from seized contraband and evidence. Papers, Passports, money, all you need to get out across the border and lay low for a year or two.”
“And this one?” she says shaking the red package.
McCarthy shakes his head.
“Your revenge kit,” McCarthy says. “Untraceable Glock and ammo. Money from the Da Vinci raid. Hair dye. Several fake IDs. The works. “
“Change of clothes?”
McCarthy nods. “My sister is your size.”
Rodriguez whistles. “You’re wasted on our side of the thin blue line, McCarthy.”
“I know what side I’m on,” he says. “Do you?”
She bites her lip. “Will I see you again?”
“Untraceable cell phone inside,” he says. “One number programmed. Good for one call. Expect the voice mail. Good for a suicide note.”
“You’re all heart,” Rodriguez says and holds up the red and blue packages. Balancing them in her hands.
They remain silent as if fearful of breaking the silence required to allow Rodriguez to weigh her options. Make her choices. Her future, her life balancing in her hands.
McCarthy seems itching to say something but holds back. Looks straight ahead and avoids eye contact.
“What you got on Del Amitri?”
“FBI stiffed us,” McCarthy says. “Back channel got shut down in double quick time.”
Rodriguez sighs.
“But not before I got Hannah the hack to sweep through the FBI’s archives and open cases.”
“And?”
“Former navy seal, bravery citations, FBI fifteen year man, exemplary case record and conduct ... until last year.”
“What happened last year?”
“The missing Madison girl,” McCarthy says.
“His case?”
“His daughter.”
“She dead?”
“Worse,” McCarthy says.
“What’s worse than being dead?”
McCarthy turns in his seat and looks straight in Rodriguez eyes. “She a cop killer.”
“When? I know,” she says.
“I know you know,” he says. “That’s what makes this so frustrating.”
“Catch the news,” McCarthy says. “You’ll find a password. Good for access to FBI cas
e records. Maybe twenty four hours before they catch it in a sweep.”
Rodriguez makes up her mind. She opens the passenger door. Slides out of the seat. Tosses the blue package back onto the seat.
“You know I love you right?” McCarthy says.
“I know,” she says.
“That’s your cue to tell me the same,” he says.
“One last thing,” she says. “The address of Madison’s mother.”
McCarthy reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “Hamptons,” he says throwing the folded paper through the window and pulling the passenger door shut.
“You’ll be dead inside twenty four,” he says and winds up the window. He slams the car into gear and pulls away.
Rodriguez holds her breath. Counts slowly backwards from five. Five seconds to decide her next move. She somehow knows everything from now will allow for only the count of five to decide her future.
“Three,” she says to herself.
The cop car stops.
“Two.”
It Reverses at speed and stops again next to Rodriguez.
“One.”
The passenger window winds down.
“Get in,” McCarthy shouts. “I’ll give you a ride up there.”
*
THE LONG MANICURED LAWNS of the Hamptons residents lay out before Rodriguez with a smugness that tells her she doesn’t belong.
They pass a large well-kept house on the corner. “That’s the one,” Rodriguez says. “Park up somewhere quiet.”
“You ain’t got time for a Stake out.”
“Living out here on a G man salary?” she says. “Don’t add up.”
“Ok let’s see what other bees are buzzing around the honey pot,” McCarthy says and pulls up at the end of the road beneath a clump of trees. “There’s a number on that address if you want to see if we’re wasting out r time here.”
Rodriquez dials the house number. Let’s it ring five times.
“No answer,” she says.
“Back to the city?”
“It not her I’m interested in,” she says. “It’s who else is interested in her.”
“If I had seventy two hours to live,” McCarthy says. “Know what I’d be doing?”
Rodriguez laughs, “I don’t wanna know.”
She opens the passenger door. “Give me five minutes,” she says and walks down the street and across the lawn of the Del Amitri residence. She takes the steps of the grand white porch, two at a time and rings the doorbell.
Peers through the glass in the double oak doors.
A shadow moves inside.
She rings again.
“Mrs. Del Amitri,” Rodriguez shouts. “Police, I have a few questions, ma’am.”
The shadow moves closer to the door. The door opens slowly.
A woman of maybe thirty five years. Slim, pretty but very tired looking stands before Rodriguez. She holds an empty wine glass a little too casually for the hour.
“I thought you might be a reporter,” she says. “They still come to the house even though we ask them not to.”
“Is your husband at home, ma’am?”
“Charles is away on business?”
“Charles?” Rodriguez says. “Not Oscar Del Amitri?”
She shakes her head. “All this on FBI salary?”
“You divorced?”
“Remarried a year ago,” the woman says. She looks over Rodriguez shoulder at an elderly neighbors peering through the curtain of her house opposite. “Curse of the Hamptons she says. The neighbors maybe out of ear shot but they still snoop. Only with a better class of telescope.”
Rodriguez smiles. “Mrs. Del Amitri.”
“Cynthia,” the woman says. “You got here fast.”
“You were expecting me?”
“Someone, a woman, I assumed from the FBI or police.”
“Did she leave a name?”
“Scarrow,” Cynthia says without hesitation.
“She’s looking for your ex-husband?”
“No,” Cynthia says, “Madison. Come in she’ll be here any minute.”
Rodriquez hesitates. “I’ll be back later ma’am. I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention I’ve been here. To anyone.”
“What’s going on officer?”
“I wish I knew ma’am.” Rodriquez says and walks across the lawn. She reaches the squad car and slides inside just as a black limo pulls up right outside Cynthia’s place.
A tall slim blonde slides out of the back seat. She wears a. Business suit and an air that seems to fit the Hamptons. She introduces herself to Cynthia who looks over her shoulder and hurries the woman in. Closing the door behind them.
*
SIMONA SCARROW SITS OPPOSITE CYNTHIA. A large mahogany paneled room of shadows playing with beams of sunlight passing through the double French glass doors leading out to a conservatory packed with plants soaring thirty feet high.
They sip a fine white in crystal and Simona can tell here sits a woman who hits the expensive stuff to remind her husband not to spend too much time away on business trips. Unless he wants to come home to an empty wine cellar.
She notices a slight tremor to Cynthia’s hands.
“Is she alive,” Cynthia says, “Please, no one will tell me anything and the news reports they-”
“Alive,” Scarrow says. “But in trouble.”
“I can’t bear to watch the news anymore,” Cynthia says. “Speculation and lies.”
“My client, a wealthy entrepreneur touched by your plight, would like to help,” Scarrow says.
“Look around you,” Cynthia says, “Do I look like I bleed money.”
“No that kind of help,” Scarrow says.
Cynthia puts down her wine glass. “What kind of trouble?”
“Two police officers were murdered.”
Cynthia buries her face in her hands. Pulls at her expensive hair.
“She’s only a baby,” Cynthia says. “The kidnappers. Coercion is a defense?”
“A mitigation factor in kidnapping yes,” Scarrow says. “But during her kidnapping your daughter turned eighteen years old and therefore will be tried as an adult.”
“What kind of help?”
“The kind where no questions are asked,” Scarrow says.
“You know where she is?”
Scarrow nods. “It’s a matter of convincing her. Madison needs to see a face she trusts.”
“I should call Charles.”
“No calls,” Scarrow says.
Cynthia seems to understand. She nods. “When do we leave?”
Scarrow returns her wine glass to the side table and stands. “Now.”
*
RODRIGUEZ LOOKS AT THE TWO PACKAGES IN HER LAP.
“Not too late to get you across the border,” McCarthy says.
Rodriguez looks up.
Cynthia and Scarrow leave the house and climb into the limo. It circles and drives off.
“It is now,” Rodriguez says.
“Where’s this taking us?” McCarthy says.
“Through the gates of hell,” Rodriguez says. “Buckle up.”
Chapter Thirty Five: Angel Flight
Del Amitri closes the apartment door behind him. He walks into the living room and admires the view of central park through the floor to ceiling windows. He picks up a framed picture of Simona Scarrow arm in arm with a handsome man her age.
A voice calls out from inside the bathroom. “You’re home early babe.”
Del Amitri reaches into his shoulder holster and draws his Glock. He fits a silencer on the barrel and seats himself in a dark corner of the room.
“Babe you want to come in here and rub my back?” the young man shouts.
Del Amitri walks to the bathroom door. Steps inside. Pulls back the shower curtain.
The man inside turns around. “Who the hell are-?”
Del Amitri raises his Glock and aims at the young man and squeezes the trigger three times
“Payback.”
The young man falls back against the shower wall and collapses.
Del Amitri watches the blood spiral away down the plughole. He lets the shower run and pulls the curtain out full to hide the scene as he exits the bathroom to return to the seat in the shadows.
HE sits and takes in the sight. A corner of the open planned room is set aside as an office. Graduation certificates and academic awards cover the wall.
He reaches for a cigar and tells himself to be patient. He waits an hour.
Eventually the front door clicks open.
Simona Scarrow enters. Drops her bags on the oak floor and places her keys and cell phone on a small ornate table. She hesitates as if listening.
“Babe you want me to scrub your back?” she calls out.
No answer.
She laughs to herself.
“You deaf idiot,” she says and kicks off her shoes and tiptoes into the bathroom.
Del Amitri waits in the shadows as she yanks back the shower curtain.
HE counts to himself slowly. One, two, three, four... and still no scream.
She’s either extremely brave or gone to pieces and he’ll have to go in there and half drown her until she tells him what he needs to know.
What’s she doing in there? She can’t make a call.
He uncrosses his legs and hesitates. Give her time he thinks. Give her until the count of ten. Maybe she’s just too smart. Baiting him. He can’t make the mistake of underestimating her. The wall of honor proves she’s the best of the best.
Slowly Scarrow appears at the doorway. She seems to be squinting into the darkness.
“I’m still alive,” she says to the darkness. “So you must want something, right?”
Del Amitri pops a cigar in his mouth and lights it.
“What are you offering?”
“Information,” she says. “That’s the nature of my business.”
“Give me Madison,” he says, “And I might let you live.”
She steps forward. Seems to allowing her eyes to adjust to the half-light.
She shakes her head. “Impossible.”
Del Amitri sighs. He raises the Glock and aims between her eyes.
“Kill me, and you get nothing,” she says. “Damien Diamond. Stop him and you free Madison.”
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