Vengeance Is Personal (A Colton James Novel, Book 2)

by Thomas DePrima

  ~ ~

  Once I arrived in the city, I drove in a circuitous route that I believed would enable me to spot anyone tailing my car. I was sure there was no one back there. Of course, they could have placed a tracking device on my vehicle and been following from a distance. But I had no choice; I had to put my car back into my secure storage parking garage. By parking before I went to my hotel, a tracking device would be rendered ineffective for discovering where I was living.

  When I called for a cab, I didn't give my correct destination. I changed the address with the driver after I was in the cab and we were headed cross-town. It was doubtful that giving an incorrect destination initially made any difference, but one never knew these days. I still kept my cell phone in a special case, one that blocked the built-in GPS signal until I needed to use it. I could have turned it off, but it was all too easy to accidently activate again while it was in my pocket. I had heard a news story about a felon who discussed a planned theft with an associate after accidently activating the cell phone in his pocket. The person who overheard the plan notified the police, who then interrupted the crime during its commission. And removing and replacing the battery frequently was too much trouble.

  I paid the driver with cash when we reached my hotel, then carried my suitcase and garment bag inside. A bellhop rushed to greet me just inside the lobby and took my things upstairs while I followed along. I had already earned a reputation as a good tipper, so hotel employees were always anxious to assist me.

  It had been a tense morning followed by a long drive, so I took a hot shower to relax and unwind. I was so glad the unpleasantness was over. I had been able to think about little else during the past few days. I would miss Billy terribly, but it was time to move on.

  ~

  After removing my cell phone from the signal-blocking case, I began dressing while it 'checked in' with the service provider. If anyone was tracking me, they might know I was at the hotel in mid-town Manhattan, but not precisely where. There were no messages, so I accessed the directory and called the real estate agent I had been working with before I left for Europe.

  "Peggy MacDonald," I heard as the call went through.

  "Hi, Peggy, it's Colton James."

  "Hi, Colt. How are you? I was so sorry to hear that you and Kathy split up. I thought you were perfect for one another."

  "So did I, but Kathy saw it differently— and I understand. She couldn't live with my being an FBI Special Agent."

  "A shame."

  "Yes," I said in agreement. "Peggy, I'm calling because I still need a condo or co-op. Owing to a recent tragedy, I've revised my requirements. I'm still not looking for Carnegie Hall or the Philharmonic, but I do want a bit of space. Most importantly, it must be very secure."

  "I heard about the attack at your apartment."

  "I want to make sure that can never happen again. Intruder access from the ground or the roof must be almost impossible, there must be a parking space where my car will be totally secure from tampering, limited elevator access would be helpful, and I must be able to enhance the security measures inside the co-op, such as adding a safe-room if it doesn't already have one."

  "What you want comes with a stiff price tag, Colt."

  "I have four million cash, and I'm reasonably sure I can get a mortgage."

  "Can you afford nineteen million? If you can, I think I have the perfect place for you. It's thirty-five hundred square feet, plus a secure garage, twenty-four-hour high security, and a safe-room built to withstand an assault by a SWAT team. It has five bedrooms and was recently remodeled with all new cabinets, counters, and appliances in the kitchen. The co-op is vacant and in move-in condition. It shares an elevator with just three other apartments, all of which are owned and occupied by people who need the maximum in security. "

  "Criminals?"

  "No, of course not," she said with a chuckle. "One is a Wall Street banker, one is an actor, and the third is a pro basketball player."

  "A Wall Street banker? I thought you said no criminals."

  "Colton."

  "Okay, I'm sorry. Just joking. Peggy, nineteen million is a lot of money."

  "You're getting a lot of real estate, a fantastic view of the Central Park, and a lot of security. You certainly won't have to worry about coming home and finding murderers lying in wait for you in your apartment."

  "Any chance the owner would take less?"

  "Not much. They've turned down several previous offers."

  "How high were the offers?"

  "I don't know. I'm not the listing realtor so I haven't seen that information. All I know is that there have been other offers, and those offers were rejected. You're free to make whatever offer you feel is appropriate, and I'm required by law to give it to the listing realtor for presentation to the seller."

  "Any other places that possibly meet my needs?"

  "I know of a place over in Jersey. It would just be a ferry ride away, but that could mean an hour or more most days."

  "No, I want a place here in Manhattan."

  "I don't have anything else right now that would meet all of your requirements."

  "Okay. When can I take a look?"

  "How about tomorrow morning at nine?"

  "Give me the address." As I wrote down the information, I was surprised to see that it was only about six blocks from the hotel. I could walk it in fifteen minutes or be there in a cab in less than five. "Okay, Peggy, I'll see you there at nine."

  "Have a good night, Colt."

  "You too."

  ~ ~ ~

  Peggy MacDonald was waiting for me when I arrived several minutes before nine the next morning.

  "Good morning, Colton," she said as I entered the lobby.

  "Hi, Peggy."

  "What do you think of the location?"

  "It's perfect. It's quite a bit different from the locations you were showing Kathy and me."

  "Your price range has jumped up considerably. Back then you were looking for something under what— ten million?"

  "Actually five— and I still don't know if I can afford this. I haven't checked with any banks to learn if they'll back a mortgage this high."

  "How much did you earn for your last art theft case?"

  "Five million."

  "And your down payment is only four million?"

  "Yes, and that represents my entire home purchase fund accumulated from several cases. Don't forget, the government takes half of everything I earn."

  "If your bank doesn't go for it, I'll find someone who will happily extend a mortgage to the famous art recovery expert Colton James. Shall we go take a look before we start worrying about money?"

  "Lead on."

  "Let's start with the parking garage and end up in the co-op."

  "Fine with me."

  We walked past five elevators in the central bay before arriving at the one Peggy was looking for. There was no button, just a key lock. She inserted a key and twisted it, then twisted it back and retracted it. About twenty seconds later, the door slid open and we stepped in. Peggy used the same key inside the elevator.

  "You said only four co-ops share this elevator?"

  "Yes— and no," she replied as she pushed the key into one of five key slots. "Let me explain. What I meant is that there are only four co-ops on the eleventh floor. This elevator can stop at any of the floors from eleven to sixteen."

  "So the elevator is shared with twenty-four co-ops?"

  "Your key, like all of the others, will be authorized for just one floor. All keys only work for the one floor where their co-op is located, the lobby, and one of the garage levels. If you wish to travel to any of the other five floors, you have to use that phone," she said, pointing to a handset behind a glass door, "to speak to the security guard in the lobby. He'll verify your identity and then direct the elevator to go to the floor you want between eleven and sixteen. To visit any floor other than between eleven and sixteen, you must go to the lobby and take a different elevator, using the
phone to have the guard direct your travel in the building."

  "Sounds inconvenient."

  "You always sacrifice a little convenience for heightened safety and security."

  After pressing the B2 button, the elevator began to descend. When the door opened, we were at a garage level. I could see four rows of cars with two drive-through lanes. Peggy led the way out and through the garage. "The garage levels are served by an automobile elevator that takes you up to the street level and by the elevators in the central bay, so it's very secure. The security guard in the lobby can watch all movement through any one of a dozen cameras located down here."

  "What about power failures?"

  "The building has two enormous emergency power generators like you'd find in hospitals and government buildings, so power for the elevators and common areas such as the lobby and hallways will never be out for more than five seconds while the systems switch over. That means no getting stuck in an elevator unless there was physical damage to the shaft or cars, such as from an earthquake. Additionally, each co-op has from three to five emergency lights connected to that system, depending on the layout. The stoves, like the generators, are all natural gas, so as long as you have matches you still have basic cooking capability if the city suffers a power outage.

  "Ah, here we are," she said, pointing to a parking location. "This is the spot owned by the co-op unit. The one next to it is also available for purchase from the same co-op owner."

  "I was hoping for a spot with less access by others to eliminate the possibility of someone tampering with my vehicle."

  "This garage level is only available to co-op owners whose cars are in here. But if you want more security, you can erect floor-to-ceiling gates around the parking spot, like that spot down at the end of this row. The only requirement is that the front be a roll-up or slide-up so as not to interfere with vehicles traveling in the drive-through passageways on the garage levels."

  "I can live with that. Uh, how much is the second spot?"

  "One hundred thousand dollars."

  I grimaced and said, "Nineteen million and they can't throw that extra spot in?"

  Peggy simply shrugged, then said, "This is New York City."

  "How long has the co-op been on the market?"

  "About four months now, I believe."

  "Do you think the owner would cave a little and throw in the second spot? I mean, the co-op has been on the market for quite a while."

  "We could try, if you want to submit an offer."

  "Let's go look at the co-op."

  When we exited the elevator on the eleventh floor, only five sets of double doors could be seen in the hallway.

  "As you can see," Peggy said, "only four co-op doorways are accessible in this corridor. The fifth set of doors is a freight elevator. The doors are similar in design to the co-op doors so they don't look out of place. You must make arrangements with the guard station in the lobby to use that elevator, because a guard must operate the elevator for all deliveries or removals. There are two cameras in the hallway, in addition to the two cameras in each elevator. Each co-op can access those four feeds using the closed-circuit monitor inside the unit, in addition to the main camera over the security guard station in the lobby. And each co-op has a camera built into the left-side door instead of having one of the old peepholes.

  "There's also a tiny mic and speaker so you can talk to someone at the door without opening it." Walking to the set of doors marked 1102, she stood in front of the left door and said her name. I heard a click, and the door opened automatically. "You get a real key for backup in case the computer fails."

  The co-op was gorgeous. I knew that it should be for nineteen million, and it didn't disappoint. It had high ceilings and an open design for the main living room, kitchen, and dining room. Each of the five bedrooms had its own private bath, but the bath in the master bedroom rivaled the best I'd ever seen in hotels, private homes, or real estate listings. The master bedroom also contained two walk-in closets that were each as large as the entire bedroom in my former apartment.

  The safe-room was about twelve by twelve, and the four-inch-thick steel entrance door looked like something out of a bank. It was motorized and slid almost noiselessly out of, or back into, its pocket in less than five seconds.

  "I love it, Peggy. If I can get the mortgage, I'll take it— if the owner throws in the extra parking space. Unless there's something you haven't told me."

  "Such as?"

  "I don't know. Are there any liens on the property, or any reason why I can't move in as soon as we close? You know what I mean— those little bad news items that sometimes crop up just after the customer gets excited."

  "Nope. No bad news, Colton. If you can get the financing, you can move in as soon as everything is settled and you've completed whatever remodeling construction you have in mind. Oh, wait a minute, there is one thing you have to know. Your purchase must be approved by the co-op association."

  "Okay, Peggy. I'll sign the purchase agreement with the provision that the deal is subject to my securing the necessary financing, as well as co-op association approval."

  "Wonderful. Let's go to my office and we can take care of all the paperwork."

  When I returned to my hotel several hours later, I was nineteen million poorer, but happier, and excited about my new home. Now all I had to do was come up with an additional fifteen million dollars.

  ~

  "This is Colton James," I said into my phone. "Is Mr. Fodor available?"

  "One moment, Mr. James. I'll see if he can be disturbed."

  About twenty seconds later I heard, "Colton. Congratulations on recovering the artwork in Europe. How are you?"

  "Good morning, Mr. Fodor."

  "I think we know each other well enough to use first names, Colton. Call me Saul. What can I do for you today?"

  "I need money, Saul. I was wondering if you might know of anyone seeking the services of a currently unemployed art recovery expert."

  "You need money? Did the Europeans stiff you?"

  "No, no, not at all. They paid me promptly. But I need a new place to live. My old apartment was trashed and was never very secure."

  "I read about that attack. I'm glad you survived."

  "Unfortunately, my best friend wasn't as lucky. Anyway, I've found a very secure apartment on the Upper East Side, but I don't have enough to buy it, and I haven't yet even given the government their half of the five million I just earned in Europe."

  "So how much do you need?"

  "Fifteen million."

  "Are you free for lunch?"

  "Uh, yes."

  "Good, meet me at my club at noon."

  "Okay."

  "I'll see you then, Colton."

  "Okay, Saul."

  ~ ~

  When I told the person who greeted me at Fodor's club who I was there to see, he immediately led the way to Fodor's table. Saul was sipping from a brandy snifter as we arrived, but he put the glass down and stood up. As he extended his hand, he said, "Hello, Colton. You're looking very prosperous for someone who needs fifteen million dollars."

  The first time we'd met I was wearing an inexpensive off-the-rack suit from a midtown men's store. I smiled and said, "You know what they say— you can't borrow fifteen million from a bank unless you don't really need money. But in this instance I do. I was hoping to wait until I had all the money I needed before I bought a home, but the attack proved I can't wait any longer. I guess I've made a few enemies."

  As a waiter came to the table, Fodor said, "Let's sit down. The chef's special dish today is King Crab cakes. I recommend it. Do you want a drink?"

  To the waiter I said, "I'd like a double Scotch on the rocks. And I'll have the King Crab cakes special."

  The waiter bowed slightly and said, "Very good, sir," then turned and left.

  "Tell me about the co-op you want to buy, Colton."

  I gave him the address, then added, "It's highly secure and even has a safe-room.
The parking spot is in a secure underground garage. The thirty-five-hundred-square-foot co-op has recently been remodeled and has five bedrooms with private baths. That's about it, except it makes my old place look like a mining-town hovel."

  "It sounds nice. Is fifteen million enough? What about closing costs and furnishings?"

  "I think I have that covered. It'll be close, but I'll get by until I earn some more recovery money."

  "Don't cut yourself short. Go for sixteen million. It'll give you some breathing room until you get everything organized."

  "I don't even know if a bank will loan me the fifteen million I must have."

  "I doubt that's a problem. I have a proposition for you."

  "A proposition?"

  "Insurance companies have a lot of cash flow. We're always looking for solid investments. We don't usually get involved in the housing market on such a small scale, but we could make an exception for an employee."

  "An employee? Me?"

  "Well, not exactly an employee. I once offered to put you on retainer. You'll earn two hundred thousand annually, plus receive ten percent of insured value of any items you recover. However, you must be available immediately when I call. And in addition to the annual retainer fee, I'll see that you receive a mortgage of sixteen million on your new co-op, which will remain in effect for as long as you're on retainer."

  I took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took a sip of the drink the waiter had just brought over. It could take me months to get an answer regarding the mortgage from a bank, and there was no guarantee I'd get an approval. Fodor was practically laying it in my lap.

  "Okay, Saul, with one caveat."

  "Which is?"

  "I'll make myself available to you immediately no matter what private case I might be working. But— if I'm in the middle of something for the FBI, other than a cold case, the government case takes priority."

  "How many active FBI investigations have you been involved with?"

  "None to date. I was hired to help clear up their cold case files. Everything so far has been a case so cold it wouldn't suffer if I postponed it for a while. But they've reserved the right to call me into an active investigation. I'm speculating I might one day be called to do something that might involve national security."