“No. While he’s away it will give us time to check the place out.”
At the front door, Buck pulled out a small silver lockpick and began to work on the lock.
“Where did you get the lockpick?” Kristie asked.
“I brought it with me. I packed it with my personal effects.”
In less than a minute, they were inside. The house was spacious, with a modern open plan. Everything was neat and tidy, except for the kitchen. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes, and an empty glass sat beside a half-drained bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen table.
They decided to take a quick tour. There were four large bedrooms each with its own ensuite bath. The master bedroom had clothes strewn everywhere, and the king-size bed was unmade. Off the combined living/dining room there was a decent-size office. A brown leather executive chair stood in front of a gleaming mahogany desk on which sat a Dell laptop computer.
“I’ve got an idea,” Buck said.
“What are you thinking?”
“If we can find Kruger’s offshore bank account and password, we can transfer the money into my account in New York.”
“Good idea. We’ve got nothing to lose by giving it a try.”
“When I worked with Kruger back in narcotics, he always joked that he had a bad memory. He said he had to write everything down because he had CRS disease.”
“CRS disease? What’s that?”
Buck laughed. “You don’t know what CRS disease is?”
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“It stands for can’t remember shit.”
Kristie grinned. “That’s a good one.”
“Now let’s see. Where would Kruger write down his passwords?”
Buck sat down and pulled on the middle drawer, but it was locked. Using the lockpick, he opened it in seconds. Inside, Woods found a little black book. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. He discovered what looked like two passwords. One was coded CPW: nypdcop2790. The other was coded OSA: lkknypd2790. On the next page, he saw what seemed to be a bank account number.
“Bingo,” Buck said. “I think we hit paydirt. Kruger’s not too original. CPW must mean computer password, and his actual password is New York Police Department cop and then his badge number. The password for his account must stand for Lieutenant Karl Kruger, New York Police Department, with his badge number.
“You’re right. Not too original.”
Woods powered on the computer and typed in nypdcop2790, and he was in. On the desktop, there was an icon with the name of a bank in the Cayman Islands. He clicked on the image, and the bank’s website came on the screen. He typed in the account number and then the password. It didn’t work. An error message popped up on the screen. Thinking he had mistyped, Buck tried again. The same error message came on the screen.
“Shit! It didn’t work. I’m sure I typed it correctly.” Then it hit him. “I bet Kruger put the bank account number in reverse order.”
“It’s worth a try. What do we have to lose?” Kristie said.
“If it doesn’t work this time, we could be locked out as a security measure. Three strikes and you’re out sort of thing. Just like baseball. Okay, here goes. Keep your fingers crossed.”
This time the account opened. A figure came up on the screen. The amount in the account showed $30,551,000.35.
All this time Kristie had been looking over Buck’s shoulder.
“Holy cow!” Kristie gasped.
“It looks like all of the ransom money plus what Kruger has stashed away from the bribes he took.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of money.”
“It sure is. I’m going to transfer all of it into my account at Capital One. When we get home, I’ll return the twenty-five million to Mayor Chandler.
Buck made the transfer, leaving the thirty-five cents in Kruger’s account. He shut down the computer and smiled. “Kruger will be shocked when we tell him he’s broke.”
“What are you going to do with the rest of the money?”
“We’ll donate it to charities supported by the NYPD. The Widows and Children’s Fund, the Joseph Pritchard Foundation, and the New York Police Foundation. Those are all good causes.”
“Good idea,” Kristie said. “What about the money he transferred into his local bank accounts?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“He probably used most of it to buy his vehicle and this house. It looks like Kruger left most of it in his offshore account.”
“Now that we know Thomas Goodfellow is Kruger, it’s time to put operation EXTRACTION into action,” Buck said. “Did you bring everything we need to take care of Kruger?”
“Yes. It’s in my purse in the car.”
He tossed her the keys. “You’d better go get it before Kruger returns.”
While Kristie was gone, Buck rechecked the middle drawer. Near the back right-hand corner, he found a forged Canadian passport and a loaded Glock .45 caliber handgun. As Buck had suspected, somehow Kruger was able to obtain a gun. Picking up the computer, he shoved the pistol into his waistband and returned to the kitchen.
Within five minutes, Kristie was back with everything they needed.
Holding up the passport and the gun, Buck said, “Look what I found.”
“Is the gun loaded?”
“It sure is. It’ll make it easier to collar Kruger when he returns.”
“Now what?” Kristie asked.
“Now we wait for Kruger,” Buck said. He outlined his plan.
A little over an hour later, the SUV pulled into the driveway. A door slammed. Kruger got out and opened the back door, grabbed two shopping bags filled with groceries, and headed toward the house. In a good mood, Kruger whistled as he walked. He was enjoying his new home, the spectacular view of the Pacific ocean, his newly found freedom, and the company of a sexy woman, Shelly Saunders. What more could a man want? He put the bags down on the porch, pulled out a key, and opened the front door. As he stepped into the foyer, he felt a hard chop to the back of his neck. Kruger dropped the shopping bags and nose-dived to the floor. While Kruger was stunned, Buck placed a knee on his back and pulled his arms behind him. Using duct tape, he quickly bound his wrists together, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, stood him up, and half walked, and half dragged Kruger to a kitchen chair. He fastened him to the chair by wrapping duct tape around his waist.
Kruger’s head was ringing, and his vision had blurred from the vicious blow that Kristie had delivered. When his eyes began to focus, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Buck and Kristie were standing directly in front of him. His good mood vanished instantly.
“What the hell…?”
“Hello, Mr. Goodfellow,” Buck said, pointing Kruger’s pistol at him. “Nice home you’ve got here, eh.”
“Yeah, a really nice home.” Kristie grinned. “It’s too bad you won’t be around to enjoy it, eh.”
“How…how did you find me? You two are like fleas on a hound dog. I can’t get rid of you.”
“We just followed the smell of a dirty rotten rat,” Buck said.
With a smug look, Kruger said, “You can’t take me back. You’ve got no jurisdiction here. Vanuatu doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”
Kristie smiled. “You’re right. But we didn’t find you in Vanuatu. We found you hiding out in a musty smelling basement in the Bronx. The same basement where Charlotte Chandler and I spent a little time as your guests. The same place where you tried to sexually assault me.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” Kruger growled.
“Oh yes, we will. By the way,” Buck said, pointing at Kruger’s computer on the kitchen table. “We found your little black book and managed to get into your Cayman Islands bank account. You are now broke except for thirty-five cents.”
&n
bsp; Kruger’s face registered shock. His eyes, shooting daggers, locked on Buck, but he didn’t speak. Just as he was about to say something, Kristie jabbed a needle into his right leg above his kneecap. At customs, when asked, Kristie had told the officer the syringe and bottle labeled insulin was for her diabetes. Instead of insulin, it contained a fast-acting sedative.
“What the fuck are you do…?”
Kruger never got to finish his sentence. His eyes closed and his head fell forward. Within seconds, he was in la-la land.
Kristie went to get the car while Buck walked to the beach, and, making sure no one was around, he tossed the pistol into the ocean.
Buck was waiting when Kristie parked the car near the door. They went into the house to retrieve Kruger. Karlsson picked up the computer while Woods removed the tape from around Kruger’s waist. He picked Kruger up, carried him to the car, and dumped his limp body onto the back seat. Before firing up the engine, Buck made a phone call to the pilot.
At the resort, the flight crew was getting into a limousine. Buck told them to go ahead. He said he and Kristie would follow shortly. Kristie kept an eye on Kruger while Buck went inside and threw their things into their suitcases. In less than fifteen minutes he had checked out, and they were on their way.
When they arrived at the airport, Kristie went into the terminal and rented a wheelchair. Buck removed the tape from Kruger’s wrists and loaded him into the chair. Kristie waited while Buck dropped off the car at the Hertz depot. With Thomas Goodfellow’s and their own passports ready, they approached security. Buck explained that his cousin in the wheelchair had just experienced an epileptic seizure on the way to the airport after hearing the bad news about his dying mother. He explained that his cousin usually experienced a period of disorientation until his medication kicked in.
“We’re flying him back to Toronto so he can be with his mother before she passes on,” Buck said.
Buck and Kristie cringed as Kruger’s eyes opened and he tried to speak. They each breathed a sigh of relief when nothing understandable came out.
“Poor fellow. I’m sorry to hear about his mother. I hope he gets to see her before she passes on. Your cousin doesn’t look too good. Will he be all right?”
“Yes, he’ll be fine. Unfortunately, he has these seizures from time to time. It usually takes a few hours for his medication to work,” Buck said.
Since no alarms went off, the security officer handed them back their passports and waved them through.
The co-pilot came down and helped Woods carry Kruger onto the Gulfstream. They placed him on a bed and Buck cuffed his wrist to the railing.
Once Kruger was secured, Buck pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message to Captain Robertson. The message read: Operation EXTRACTION complete. Package on board. See you soon! B.
Cruising at 31,000 feet, an hour after leaving Port Vila, Kruger’s head began to clear. He yanked on his cuffed wrist, looked around and yelled, “Where…where the hell am I?”
CHAPTER 35
As soon as Captain Robertson received Buck’s message, she dialed Mayor Chandler.
When the mayor came on the line, the captain said, “Operation EXTRACTION was successful. The package has been secured and will be here in about twenty hours.”
“That’s great news, Captain. Does Commissioner Gown know?”
“I’m going to call him now.”
“Good. I’ll speak with you later.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,” Commissioner Gowan said when Captain Robertson called. “When will the plane be arriving?”
“In about twenty hours, sir.”
“Okay. I’ve got a phone call to make. Talk to you later, Captain.”
The commissioner called a high-ranking friend in U.S. customs and informed him of the situation. He agreed to have the crew and passengers cleared promptly without any problems when the airplane touched down at Westchester County Airport.
Twenty-three hours after departing Port Vila, the Gulfstream landed smoothly. It taxied up to the main terminal building and stopped. A grounds crew wheeled a stairway up to the door, and a minute later the door opened. Kruger appeared in the doorway his hands cuffed behind his back. Buck and Kristie followed him down the stairs, and when they reached the ground, a U.S. customs officer greeted them with a smile. He told them they were cleared and free to go.
Kruger shouted, “Sir, I’ve been kidnapped. These detectives abducted me in Vanuatu, a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S. What they did is illegal.”
The officer smiled and said, “Welcome home, Lieutenant Kruger. I hope you enjoyed your short vacation.”
Standing behind Kruger, Buck shoved him toward a waiting patrol car. After placing him in the back, before slamming the door, Buck said, “Enjoy your stay at Rikers, Mr. Goodfellow.”
Led by a motorcycle cop, the driver and his partner took off, followed by two patrol cars.
Police Commissioner George Gowan and Mayor Jackson Chandler stepped out of the mayor’s limousine. They greeted Buck and Kristie with broad smiles and extended hands.
“Congratulations on a successful mission,” the commissioner said. He shook their hands vigorously.
“Thank you, Commissioner,” Buck said.
“Thank you, sir,” Kristie said.
“It looks like the trip to Vanuatu paid off. I’m so glad that you caught that son of a bitch. You both have my heartfelt thanks,” Chandler said.
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor, for your help. We couldn’t have done it without you, your airplane, and your great crew,” Buck said.
“It was my pleasure, Detective Woods. We’re going back to my place for a little celebration.” He turned to his chauffeur and said, “Slam could you retrieve their luggage, please.”
After Slam had put their suitcases into the trunk, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The flight crew followed in another limousine that Chandler had rented.
Captain Robertson arrived at Chandler’s condo shortly after the celebration had started. She hugged Kristie and Buck and congratulated them on a successful mission. Everyone was in a joyous mood. A waiter passed around hors d’oeuvres while a bartender mixed drinks. Even Chandler’s daughter Charlotte was there. Her sessions with her psychiatrist had finally paid off.
The next morning, Buck transferred the twenty-five million into a Chase Bank account number that Jackson Chandler had provided the previous evening.
That same day, Michael Armstrong, Kruger’s lawyer, came for a visit.
“Michael,” Kruger said, “we’ve got a problem.”
Armstrong looked puzzled. “What kind of problem?”
“I’m broke. Buck Woods found my passwords and went into my computer. He found my offshore account and stole all my money.”
“Let me get this straight. Woods stole the money that you extorted and left you penniless.”
“That’s right.”
“How do you plan on paying me?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. Maybe I can borrow it from one of my friends.”
“Do you still have any friends?”
“Sure I do.”
“Until you come up with the cash, I’m withdrawing from representing you. I’m sorry, Karl, but I don’t work pro bono.”
“Ah, Michael, I need you. You’re the best.”
“The Miranda rights says: If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the court. Sorry, Karl, you’ll have to use a state-appointed public defender. You’ll probably get some green rookie who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Goodbye and good luck. From what I see, you’re going to need it.”
After reading about Kruger’s recapture in the New York Times, Billy White canceled his flight reservations to Port Vila the day before he was scheduled to depart. The article s
aid that Kruger had been hiding out in a dilapidated old house in the Bronx. The same house where Mayor Chandler’s daughter had been held after her kidnapping. The article went on to say that Kruger was captured without incident by NYPD Detective Buck Woods and his partner Detective Kristie Karlsson, backed up by a SWAT team.
The next morning, Kruger was told he had a visitor. When he was brought out to the visiting area, he was shocked when he saw Billy White. He was expecting his new lawyer, a public defender named Grace Mosley.
“Hello, Mr. Goodfellow,” White said sarcastically. “Did you have a good time in Vanuatu?”
“Goldie, let me explain. Before I could transfer your money, that damn Buckley Woods broke into my house and found my computer. He managed to find my passwords and transferred all the money out of my account.”
“You idiot, Kruger. Do you think I’m an imbecile? You had plenty of time to transfer the money before Woods arrived. You promised you would do it as soon as you got there.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, brother. I screwed up.”
“Yeah, you did. You screwed up big-time. And don’t call me brother. When you were a teenager, I took you off the street and gave you a good home. I paid for your college education, and this is the thanks I get. You’re no brother of mine, you double-crossing money-hungry weasel.”
“I’ll make it up to you, Goldie. I promise.”
“And how the fuck are you gonna do that? You’re broke, and you don’t have a pot to piss in.”
“I own a house and a car, and there’s still a few hundred thousand in the bank in Port Vila that Woods didn’t get.”
“And how are you gonna get that money when you’re here rotting away in jail?”
“I’ll find a way. Honest, I will.”
“Yeah, sure. There’s no chance you’ll ever get it now. When you’re in prison, you’d better watch your back. I’m gonna make you pay for your greed and your disloyalty.”
“But…but, Goldie.”
Without another word, White got up and left. Kruger sat staring blankly after him. The words, “I’m gonna make you pay for your greed and disloyalty,” sent a cold shiver down his spine. He knew he was fucked with a capital “F.”
New York City Murders Page 24