Hard Press: The Evie Black Files

by Adam Nicholls

  “This is such a dumb idea,” Nick insisted.

  “You can always head home.”

  “And let you take all the credit for the bust?” Nick grunted a short laugh. “Not likely. Besides, you need me at your side.”

  “I do?”

  “Sure you do. I’m the eye candy that keeps you motivated.”

  Evie caught herself smiling and then chastised herself to stop. “You’re a married man.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t look.”

  “Oh, shush.” She gave him a playful backhand on the arm, and then some movement caught her eye in front of the apartment building. “Hey, shut up. Someone’s coming.”

  They stayed down, watching the black Mercedes pull up outside. The driver climbed out and moved to the back door, holding it open as if he were expecting royalty.

  “What’s going on?” Nick whispered.

  “I’m not sure.”

  The building’s automatic glass doors slid open, and Victor Sanyasi strolled out of the lobby draped in black Armani. His hair was slicked back with greasy gel, lending that authentic Italian-sleaze look. When he reached his Mercedes, he looked up and down the street and then got in. The Merc pulled slowly out onto the street and then disappeared as it turned the city block.

  “That was him,” Nick said.

  “Yep.” Evie got to her feet, slapped the parking lot’s dirt off her knees, and made her way toward the door. She was aware of Nick jogging to catch up behind her and knew already that he would disapprove.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going inside.”

  “We are?” Nick caught up, meeting her side.

  “Yes,” Evie said, grinning as she pushed the button inside the elevator. “We are.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The moment Sanyasi’s thugs opened up the restaurant, Moore handed over his search warrant. The team filed in behind him and then spread out to begin their mad hunt for evidence.

  “What the fuck is this?” the thug asked, crumpling the paper up and throwing it back. “You can’t be here. Get the hell out of here!”

  “Buckingham, escort this gentleman outside.” Moore flashed a cocky grin. For years he had wanted to make a move on this gang, but only now did he have sufficient legal ground to press forward. He only hoped he could find what he needed to satisfy the district attorney. “Everyone else, search high and low. Just stay away from the windows—if Sanyasi decides to head this way, I don’t want him seeing us and running in the other direction. And collect all the cell phones from these goons.”

  Moore’s team was expedient and competent. They checked every little cubbyhole, the vents, and any other crevasse wide enough to conceal paper. If Sanyasi hid anything in the restaurant, there wasn’t a doubt that they would find it.

  Captain Moore strode toward the back office. It stank of cigar smoke and rich leather. There was a line of spotlight bulbs along the wall behind the desk, illuminating an array of photo frames. On the left, glass cases securely kept bones or fossils of some kind.

  Never pegged you as a student of paleontology, asshole.

  “Got a key, sir,” a cop said behind Moore, handing it over. “Don’t know what it opens, but it was inside the baseboard. Definitely hidden.”

  “Good work.” Moore looked around the office. Most of the fuss was taking place in the main area of the restaurant. He only had a few minutes until the team swarmed in here, turning the place upside down. But when he walked around the desk and saw the safe at his feet, he didn’t think he would need further assistance.

  Moore tried the key. It slid in perfectly, unlocking the heavy door with a metallic clunking sound. Inside was a small pile of jewelry, a thick wad of fifty-dollar bills, a flash drive, and a large brown folder. He grabbed the folder, spread it out on the desk, and thumbed through it.

  “Well, well, well.”

  “Anything good, boss?”

  Moore had been known as a hard-ass his entire career, so when his lips broke out in a rare smile, it drew something of a crowd. “Everything. Every single Black Widow murder is listed here. Stupid son of a bitch kept a record of it all. Including…” He laughed now, barely able to believe how much luck he’d just stumbled upon. “Including the name and address of the next victim.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Remind me again why we’re here.”

  Evie stopped outside the door to the penthouse suite. “Do you ever stop complaining?”

  “Not when my life is being threatened, no.”

  “Just… give me the key.” Evie held out her hand, and he dumped it into her palm. When he had pickpocketed the maid, Evie had been both impressed and disgusted at the same time. It’s not like it wasn’t useful—it really was—but the fact that he wouldn’t explain where he’d learned to do it begged a question or two.

  The door clicked and fell open easily. A TV played on mute inside the darkened room, lighting up the expensive furniture in a series of bright flashes. A thin ray of light caught Evie’s eye. Another door stood in front of her, solid and impenetrable. Was that a bedroom? “Anybody home?” Nick asked, his voice a mere whisper.

  “I don’t think so. We should be quiet just in case.”

  Leaving the door open in case they needed to flee, they both entered the expansive room and rooted around. There must be something here, and Evie had explained that to him more than once. If Moore didn’t find anything at the restaurant, they would need a backup plan, and it was better to have one ready.

  “Anything?” she asked, voice carrying across the room.

  Nick was barely visible by the far wall, rifling through a cabinet of some kind. “Nothing,” he said. “You?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then keep on looking.”

  They continued working in tandem, using nothing more than the light from Evie’s cell phone to check out the printed paperwork. There was nothing useful, however, unless you needed kindling for a fire.

  Evie closed a drawer, looking briefly out of the penthouse window at the nighttime view of Manhattan. It looked beautiful, a stunning sea of lights and flashes below a starry sky. It was everything she had wanted out of the city, so she paused to drink it in, circumstances be damned.

  But then a voice called out, and Evie’s blood chilled in her veins.

  “Victor, is that you?” A woman’s voice, laced with concern.

  Evie froze, glaring at Nick as if to wait for a suggestion. He only shrugged. Hardly helpful.

  “Victor?” The voice drew nearer now, and the light under the door dimmed out, as if blocked by a large object or, more likely, a person.

  Taking long strides, Evie grabbed Nick’s arm and led him toward the door. It was one thing to leave without some kind of evidence, but if they were caught in here, then they wouldn’t be leaving at all.

  They were almost at the door when the one behind them opened. A woman appeared in an open, silky white robe, her flowing blonde hair draping over large, bare breasts. Were it not for the pistol in her hand, she would be a thing of beauty. With it, she only looked deadly.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  Evie didn’t stop. She continued pulling Nick toward the door but stopped short as another figure stepped in from outside, blocking their path. It was Sanyasi, with a Glock trained at her head.

  “You know, I’m beginning to think you two are cops,” Sanyasi said. He trod slowly into the room, flicked on a light, and closed the door. “I hate cops.”

  Nick took a step forward, shielding Evie from the gunman in front of her but exposing her to the armed woman behind. “Listen, man, we don’t want any trouble. Just let the lady go, and we can make some sort of arrangement, okay? Nobody has to get hurt here.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Sanyasi said.

  As Sanyasi pulled the trigger, the silenced pistol whispered into the air. Nick turned, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at Evie. Then, he looked down at his stomach, a deep scarlet p
ouring out into his cupped hands.

  “Nick!” she cried, reaching out to hold her partner as he fell to his knees. But there was no helping him—comfort would only take him so far. As his eyes fluttered closed, Evie knew that he was dying in her arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The final target seemed something of a loner. Captain Moore sat on the guy’s couch with a glass of water, trying to explain to the surly, elderly man that he was being targeted by the leader of a gang.

  “Could you stop talking to me like I’m a child?” the target snapped. His name was Vincent Foster, and he was one tough cookie. Moore had deduced that important fact within seconds of meeting him. Everything from his mean stare to his pushed-out chest indicated strength and bravery. “I’m not stupid. I’ve read the papers. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what each of the Black Widow victims had in common.”

  “You knew they were competition?”

  “Of course I did! It’s my industry, isn’t it? If I didn’t know who my rivals were, I wouldn’t have come so far in my trade. Only thing I couldn’t figure out was whether I would be taken out before Sanyasi or not.”

  Moore removed his glasses, placing them on the table and leaning his mouth into his hands. “Sanyasi is the killer, Mr. Foster. You’re the only one left, and we need to get you into police protection as soon as possible.”

  Vincent Foster paused, brandy glass in hand, staring blankly into his sooty fireplace. Eventually, he shook his head in blunt denial. “No. I have a business to run. I can’t go scurrying off to some police station while the industry’s cogs turn. I’d be out of business before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’”

  “If you don’t allow me to keep you safe, you may not even live to enjoy your wealth,” Moore told him. “Now, we have a couple of officers outside who are happy to escort you. I would suggest you grab a few things that you need and come with us.”

  Foster sighed. “How long will this take?”

  “We have the arrest warrant, so not long, hopefully.”

  “Fine.” He stormed out of the room to gather his belongings, angrily slamming doors as if the police were the problem rather than the solution.

  “I’ll be right outside,” Captain Moore shouted and went out to get some fresh air. It had been a long night, and something told him it wasn’t near over. With the Black Widow waiting at the police station and a team on the way to arrest Sanyasi, Moore could expect a late night.

  “Sir.” A young police officer appeared from the side of the house.

  “What are you doing here? I asked you to take care of Black Widow.”

  “She’s being looked after,” the officer said, taking another step toward him. “But those reporters you left her with—they left almost immediately after you did. And… I don’t know. I think they went to try Sanyasi’s penthouse. I was just thinking that if Sanyasi wasn’t at the restaurant, then…”

  Moore didn’t respond, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and hitting Evie’s number from his contacts. His blood raced like stream water as the phone rang, each bout of dial tone playing havoc on his heart rate.

  After the seventh ring, the call ended. Moore tried again, but this time there was no dial tone whatsoever. Straight to voicemail. He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, considering his options. If Evie was in trouble, he couldn’t just leave her. “Damn her,” he spat and hurried down the steps.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Vibrating and wailing, demanding attention.

  “Hand it over,” Sanyasi said, taking it and launching it at a nearby wall. Plastic chunks rained to the carpet, rendering it useless. “Tell me, if you’re ‘just a journalist,’ why do you care so much about my business?”

  “Because I know about your schemes,” Evie said, Nick’s body going limp in her lap as his lifeblood continued to drain from his body. “The cops know, and the people have a right to know.”

  “The police have known for years, little girl. But something tells me you already know that. Admit it, you’re a police officer.”

  Evie sensed the woman standing behind her. Two guns were trained on her. Perspiration ran in rivulets between her shoulder blades, pooling in the small of her back. Considering how quickly Nick had been dispatched with a single bullet, she didn’t doubt that they’d shoot first and ask questions later if she gave one wrong answer.

  And then something occurred to her: the police may have known for some time now, but weren’t there boundaries? Wasn’t there something that might lead the authorities to cross the line and take action? After all, it was happening in real time. “I’m not a police officer, but Nick is. That means you’re in deep shit.”

  Sanyasi looked down at the dead man. Suddenly, he knocked back his head and crowed deep laughter. “Don’t you think I’ve killed cops before? Sanita,” he addressed the other woman in the room, “she thinks this is the first policeman I’ve shot. Ignorant pig.”

  The woman snickered behind Evie, pressing the gun into the nape of her neck. “Vic, can we quit fucking around now? I want to kill this bitch.”

  “Easy now,” Sanyasi said. “It is Miss Black, isn’t it?”

  Evie nodded nervously, feeling the cool lip of the barrel against her skin.

  “Miss Black, you should meet Sanita, the first of my many Black Widows. You ladies might have gotten along in other circumstances, don’t you think?”

  “Not for a second,” Evie spat.

  “Hmm. All right, Sanita. Enough clowning around. Kill her and get rid of the body.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Evie’s hands shook. She filled with rage, not just for Nick’s death, but for all the senseless murders. Trying to be brave, she clenched her fists, closed her eyes tight, and bit down on the inside of her cheeks as she awaited the gunshot that would end her life.

  Through her gentle sobbing, she almost missed hearing the door crash open.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The doorknob smashed into the wall with such force that the room shook. It felt like a tremor when Captain Moore burst in, his police-issue sidearm coming up quick. It pointed at Sanyasi, who was turning quickly to react.

  Evie, sensing a strange rush of adrenaline and feeling time slow down, brushed Nick aside and shot to her feet. With all her strength, she lunged at Sanita, tackling her. Evie’s shoulder hit her waist, and they both hit the ground like bags of cement. The gun sprawled across the floor, twirling like a deadly game of spin the bottle.

  In the heat of the moment, Evie heard the muffled pop of a gunshot behind her. Somebody yelped, but she couldn’t figure out who. Her hands were busy, restraining Sanita as she wriggled and cursed.

  Evie seized control. Digging her knee into the woman below her, she pushed up hard and reached for the gun that had landed several feet away. Sanita, however, had the advantage of balance. Her arms thrashed around, and she grabbed Evie by the hair, pulling her down to one side.

  “Stop her!” a man screamed from behind. It sounded like Moore, but Evie couldn’t be sure. “Get the gun! Quickly!”

  Evie felt a surge of power. She climbed off the floor and dashed forward again, landing atop Sanita. They both let out a loud oof, the wind being knocked out of them from the sheer force of the impact. The gun lay ahead, mere inches from her reach.

  Sanita seemed not to even notice Evie’s fingers wrapped around her throat. She was struggling through it, touching the butt of the gun now, trying desperately to get it firmly in her hand to finish her aggressor.

  “Back down!” Evie yelled, weakly punching the woman in the spine. She darted forward in one final, desperate attempt at victory. When her hand landed on the gun, she brought it down hard, swiping at Sanita’s cheekbone and feeling the crunch as it connected.

  She had done it—in spite of feeling sluggish and useless, she had assumed control.

  Evie, only now recognizing the gunshot, turned around to face Moore. She gasped in horror when she saw him.<
br />
  The police captain slumped against the wall. Behind him, a large patch of dark blood covered the area around the light switch. A trail snaked down to his body, where his eyes were only half-open, flickering in their last moments of life.

  Sanyasi held two guns now, both pointed at Evie. Sweat oozed from his forehead, and his clothes were a crumpled mess, but he seemed unharmed. “Drop the gun, and do it right now. I won’t tell you twice.”

  Evie looked to her right, where Sanita was climbing to her feet and reaching out for the gun. Evie had lost—she knew that now. With the pistol grip outward, she held the gun for the woman to take.

  Nick Rice had already died, and Captain Moore had come alone to her rescue. But it wasn’t enough. It was two against one now, and she didn’t have a weapon. It was time, finally, for Evie to accept her fate, and she was determined to do it without a single tear.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The muffled sounds of struggling and groaning reached her ears. The same ears that rang with terror.

  Against every temptation, she pried open her eyes to see Moore roar back to life. A bright red pool of blood covered his muscular shoulder as he wrestled Sanyasi. He’d been wounded but not killed. Not yet at least.

  Evie had only a moment to react.

  The gun still firmly in her hand, she pulled away from Sanita. Swinging her wrist with every ounce of strength she had left, she clipped the woman’s face with the butt of the gun. Her aim true, she connected and rejoiced as a stream of bright red blood spurted from the woman’s nose.

  Sanita went down with a moan, cupping her hands over her injured face. Evie had a fleeting moment to turn her attention to Moore. He was on the ground now, exchanging punches with Sanyasi… but losing. It didn’t surprise her—Moore was old enough to be the other man’s father, and that was before considering the gunshot wound.