“Yeah, definitely,” Nate said. “No question.”
Doug stared intently at the screen. “Looks like there are three places I spent a lot of time in.” He pointed. “Do you know where that is?”
“It’s in Hackensack; your apartment.”
“What about that one?” he asked.
“That’s right here. It’s where we are now.”
He pointed again. “And that one?”
A beat, and then Jessie said, “That’s my house.”
Nobody knew what to say, so after a few moments, Nate came up with, “Okay, moving right along, can you give us the first page or two with locations? That way we can get started.”
Jessie nodded. “Sure, and I’ll get the rest of it done today.”
“Thanks, Jess,” Nate said, and he and Doug left.
Once they were outside the closed door, Doug said, “She hates me; did I cheat on her?”
“She doesn’t hate you, and if you cheated on her, you didn’t tell me about it. Which is just as well, because then I would have shot you myself. She’s a terrific lady; way too good for you. She deserves somebody like me.”
The door then opened behind them, and Jessie was there. She looked as if she was going to say something to Doug, but then turned to Nate, and handed him a piece of paper. “Here, you forgot this; it’s page one. It can get you started.”
Nate took it as she closed the door behind her. He handed it to Doug, who looked at it quickly and said, “Let’s start at the top.”
The top, which meant the first place that neither Doug nor Nate could identify, was on Vernon Avenue in Paterson. The house number on Jessie’s list was 308, and that’s the one Nate ran through the computer. The result was promising: the owner of the house was listed as Bruce Andrus, who a year ago finished a three-year prison term for grand larceny. Andrus was a career criminal, and had never been choosy about the type of crime to participate in.
They pulled a photo from the database, so they would know what Andrus looked like, and headed for his house. It was a fairly depressed neighborhood, but populated by mostly hard-working, honest people trying to get by. Andrus, according to his rap sheet, was a notable exception.
There were only a few parking spots available on the street, and Nate parked about fifty yards west of the house. As they approached, they saw someone who looked like Andrus walking in the other direction, coming toward them. He saw them as well, and in a matter of seconds, he was no longer walking; he was running down an alley.
Nate and Doug took off in pursuit, but after only a few strides Doug realized he was in no shape to run. He stopped, backed out of the alley, and positioned himself adjacent to the entrance of the next one, hiding behind the front of a house.
Nate continued the chase, but at his size was not about to catch Andrus. Andrus lengthened the distance between them, and then came running up the next alley. When he was only about fifty feet away, Doug stepped out, drew his gun, and pointed it at him.
“Freeze!” he yelled.
Andrus stopped in his tracks, and instantly obeyed when Doug ordered him to raise his hands. “Come on, man, not again,” he said in a pleading voice.
Nate came running toward them, although it was more of a stagger. He was gasping for air when he reached them.
“Anybody home in your house?” Doug asked.
“No,” Andrus said.
“Then let’s go inside.”
Nate was still panting heavily. “Any chance you got an oxygen tent in there?”
They went into Andrus’s house and walked into what seemed to be the den. Nate instructed him to sit down in a chair, and they both stood nearby, towering over him. They represented an intimidating pair, especially Nate.
Doug spoke first. “When we were outside, you said ‘not again.’ What did you mean by that?”
“I meant that last time you hassled me, you said you wouldn’t be back. Which has turned out to be bullshit.”
“What did I hassle you about?”
Andrus was clearly not understanding the line of questioning. “What kind of question is that?”
Nate moved a step closer and said, “You don’t judge the questions, okay, asshole? You just answer them.”
“Hey, I just didn’t understand what he was asking. You want to know what we talked about? Is that it?”
“Yes,” Doug said.
“You don’t know?”
“Answer the damn question,” Nate commanded. “I’m getting tired of telling you.”
“You were asking about this guy.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know how to pronounce his name. Like Sadri, or something like that.”
“Why was I asking about him?” Doug asked.
“Hey, is this some kind of test or something? Why do I have to tell you stuff you already know?”
This time Nate didn’t say anything, just took one menacing step toward Andrus. It was more than enough.
“Okay,” Andrus said. “This guy, this Sadri, had been trying to get his hands on some explosives. The plastic kind, real powerful. He was throwing around some money, but not nearly enough.”
“What was he going to do with it?”
“I don’t know; I didn’t want to know.”
“Did you sell it to him?” Nate asked.
“Me? Look at this rat hole; you think I sold something for a lot of money? Besides, I don’t get involved with shit like that. I’m a pacifist. I’m just telling you what I heard. Word gets around.”
“How come I was asking you about this?”
Andrus turned to Nate. “Is he kidding?”
Nate ignored the question and asked one of his own. “Where is Sadri?”
“I don’t know where he is now, but I can tell you where he was then. Maybe he’s still there, maybe not. I don’t keep track of him.”
“Then tell us.”
“A boardinghouse, off Nash Avenue in Clifton.”
“The address?”
“It’s 348 Marshall Street.”
“You sure?” Doug asked.
Nate answered the question. “He’s sure.” Doug looked over and saw Nate staring at the piece of paper Jessie gave him. “It’s next on the list,” he said.
It was five minutes after they left, when Andrus could be sure they were gone, that he picked up the phone and dialed a number. “He was just here, this time with a partner,” was all that he said, smiling at the knowledge that the phone call would net him five thousand dollars.
Andrus didn’t think it worth mentioning that this time Doug seemed more than a little strange.
The boardinghouse was on two levels, three apartments on each.
The hallway leading out from each apartment was outdoors, wrapped around the building, much like at a motel. There were indoor/outdoor carpet runners on them that looked like they were installed during the Truman administration. It had started to rain, and the runners had already gotten mushy.
One of the apartments on the main floor had a plate that said MANAGER on it; he or she obviously lived on the premises.
“Look familiar to you?” Nate asked as they pulled up.
“No, not at all.” Doug frowned. “That’s a real shocker.”
“Okay, well, these are your steps we’re retracing. What do we do next?”
“Let’s talk to the manager.”
They knocked on the manager’s apartment door, and Harry Draper came to the door. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, about five foot six, and at least forty pounds overweight. The sleeveless T-shirt with a tear in it that he wore seemed a style that fit the rest of his appearance, and was in line with the general décor of the building.
Draper took one look at Doug and said, “Oh shit, not again.”
“We seem to have hit upon a theme,” Nate said.
“What do you want this time?” Draper asked.
“Can we come in? Or do you want to join us in the rain?”
Draper sighed, opened the door, th
en turned and let them follow him inside. “We want to talk to you about Sadri,” Doug said.
Draper frowned. “That’s a real fucking news flash.”
Doug indicated Nate. “My partner wants to hear directly from you everything you told me last time. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Directly from me.”
“Right. Everything you told me.”
“Before or after you threatened to shoot me and toss my body in the ocean if I didn’t talk?” Draper asked.
“Before and after. And by the way, the threat still holds.”
“Well, I told you that the guy was quiet, didn’t talk much to anyone. The only time he didn’t shut up was when he was in his apartment. He prayed a lot; you could hear him from the damn street. He was one of those Islam guys.”
“Keep going.”
“Well, you asked me if he got any visitors, and I said I never saw any. But I don’t spend all day watching his apartment, so I can’t be sure.”
“Do you provide cleaning services in the apartments?” Doug asked.
Draper nodded. “That’s what you asked me last time, and I said sure, we have a lady come in twice a week. But he never let her in, told her straight out that he’d clean the place himself. Yeah, I’ll bet he did; the place is probably a pigsty.”
“Does he pay his rent on time?” Nate asked.
“He did, but I think he may have skipped out on me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I haven’t seen him in two days, and he’s three days late with the rent. And last weekend he showed up with a suitcase, and brought it into his place.”
“An empty suitcase?” Doug asked.
“Do I have X-ray vision?”
“Think about this; picture him carrying it. Did it look like it had some weight to it, by the way he held it?”
Draper took a few moments to actually try and recall it. “Yeah, I think it did.”
“Anything else about it that you remember?”
“Yeah. I saw him get to the door to his place, and he reached in his pocket, I think it was the right one, for the key. But it wasn’t there, so he reached into the left one and found it.”
“So?”
“So he didn’t put the suitcase down. He held it the whole time, and just switched it to his other hand when he needed to reach into the other pocket. I remember thinking that was weird, especially because it looked heavy.”
Doug said, “We’re going to need to get into that apartment.”
“You got a warrant, or probable cause?” Doug and Nate exchanged glances, prompting Draper to add, “Yeah, I know how this works. I got rights.”
“You do?” Doug asked. “Good for you. When is rent due on these apartments?”
“End of the month. No exceptions, no extensions. My tenants all know that.”
“Or they get evicted?”
Draper nodded. “Damn right. I ain’t running no homeless shelter here.”
“So you just said that Sadri is three days late. Evict his ass and let us into his apartment.”
“I don’t think so,” Draper said.
“Or, I’ve got another idea to run by you; tell me if you like this better,” Nate said. “Instead of wasting time checking out his apartment, we can hang out down here with you and your rights, looking for building code violations. Maybe get some city inspectors to come down. They have rights too.”
Draper frowned and said, “You guys ever lose?”
Nate smiled. “Not so far.”
The inside of Sadri’s apartment had that lived-in look.
Dirty dishes in the sink, empty food containers on the kitchen table, an unmade bed, shirts lying on two chairs, and even a small amount of cash on the kitchen counter. Not only did the place have that “lived-in” look, but it had that “still lived-in” look. Sadri’s clothing and toiletries were still there; if he left, he hadn’t taken his things with him.
“Is this the first time I’ve been in here?” Doug asked.
“You’re asking me if you’ve been in here?” Draper asked. “How the hell should I know?”
They instituted a quick and reasonably thorough search of the apartment and found nothing significantly incriminating, and certainly no explosives. There was some anti-U.S. literature, but nothing that could be deemed overtly threatening, and clearly no cause to arrest Sadri, if they’d known where he was. One thing that was not there was the suitcase that Draper had seen him bring in.
The item of most interest was a laptop computer with a printer attached to it. “You got wireless in here?” Nate asked.
“What do you think this is, Starbucks?” Draper said.
“I’m getting a little tired of your mouth,” Nate said. “How many teeth did you have when the day started?”
“Sometimes you can pick up the signal from the Dunkin Donuts across the street. But it’s pretty weak.”
Doug sat down, turned it on, and was immediately greeted by the request for a password. “Here we go again,” he said, and then turned to Draper. “What do you do with the personal belongings of people you’ve evicted?” Doug asked.
“Whatever I want. I own it. But it’s never worth much, or the people who owned it wouldn’t have been living here in the first place.”
“Good. Then you’re telling us that this is now your computer. We’re going to borrow it.”
“Keep it. Just leave me alone and don’t come back, okay?”
Nate handed him his card. “Be a good citizen; call me if Sadri shows his face.”
Doug and Nate left with Sadri’s computer and headed back to the barracks. “This another job for Jessie?” Doug asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is this cyber stuff all she does?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah, it is now, and she’s not too happy about it. She used to be in a car, and was a damn good cop. Then she took some tech courses that the department offered, sort of as an extra thing. She was great at it, and then the whole cybercrime area exploded, so now she’s doing it full time. She misses the action.”
“You ever going to tell me what happened between me and her?”
“Not me; none of my business.”
“Come on, Nate. She hates me, and I want to know why.”
Nate thought about it for a few moments, and then said, “Let’s put it this way … you’re an asshole.”
“You’ve got a real way with words.”
“We need to bring the task force into this,” Nate said, referring to the Joint Terrorism Task Force, and changing the subject.
Doug shook his head. “Too soon. What the hell have we got? One loser said another loser was looking for explosives. We have no evidence that he got any, or what he would do with them if he did.”
“I know what’s going on; you want to do this on your own.”
Doug nodded. “For the second damn time.”
“The doc was right; you haven’t changed at all,” Nate said. “Sorry, but I’ve at least got to bring Congers into the loop. He works for us, assigned to the task force. We can’t go it alone on this, Doug. If we do, and Sadri blows up a building, with some people in it…”
“Okay. I get it.”
“When we get back, you take the computer to Jessie, and I’ll call Congers.”
That is what they did, but Jessie was out for lunch, and was due back in twenty minutes. Doug took a seat outside her office to wait for her.
Nate, meanwhile, went to his own office and called Congers. He explained the situation about Sadri, and Congers asked, “You got a first name for this guy?”
“No, just the name Sadri, and the address I gave you.”
“No photo? Or prints?”
“No photo, but I can give you an address where you can get all the prints you want. But can’t you run it off the name?”
“Probably, but for all I know Sadri is like Smith or Jones.”
Nate gave him the address, and then considered telling him about the computer, but decided to give Jess
ie a shot at it first. “Based on the literature in his apartment, the guy is pretty far out there, hates this country, and we have a witness that says he has been out looking for explosives. Wouldn’t you guys have been watching him already?”
“Hey, don’t look at me, I just work here. I’ll run this down and see what I come up with. Which brings me to the key question: what the hell are you doing with this?”
“Doug and I sort of stumbled on it.”
“Yeah,” said Congers, clearly not buying it. “Just be careful with this kind of stuff, or you could stumble big time.”
“Ah, words of wisdom,” Nate said. “I remember when you weren’t such hot shit.”
“That was long ago, my friend,” Congers said. “Long ago.”
Once off the call, Nate was about to meet up with Doug in Jessie’s office, when Captain Bradley came in and closed the door. “Where the hell have you guys been?” he asked.
“Out policing … making you proud … making this a safer state for the citizens of New Jersey.”
“Don’t screw with me, Nate, or you’ll be working a grammar school crossing with a defective whistle. Now what are you doing?”
“Doug’s retracing his steps, and I’m helping him, and trying to keep him from getting shot again.”
“I told you, and I told him, regular duty. Was I not clear about that?”
“You were clear, Captain. But with all due respect, he doesn’t really give a shit; he’s going to do what he wants to do. And he doesn’t much care if you suspend him; he’s still going to do it. So I figured he should do it in house, where we can watch him.”
“That is not acceptable.”
“He doesn’t think it’s acceptable to have someone out there who put two bullets into his body, without trying to find that person. So that’s what he’s doing.”
Jessie comes toward her office and seems surprised to see me sitting here.
It’s clear that I make her nervous, but not in a good way; more in a very uncomfortable, get him the hell out of here soon way.
There is something familiar about her; I can’t place it, but I felt it the first time I saw her. Or at least the first time I remember seeing her. She is the only person or thing that seems to jog my memory in any way. I can’t recall anything about knowing her before I was shot, but I have this vague feeling that the memories are there somewhere.
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