Wrecking Team: A Gripping Mystery Suspense Novel (Gemini Series of Thrillers Book 4)

by Ty Patterson

  The sisters hadn’t told the cops about Jurado. They had made up a story. That one of the responders to the ads had revealed the information.

  They had checked Jurado’s print, and it had matched a cold case from several years ago. They had checked out charities in the city, and one of them had a volunteer who matched Jurado’s description.

  They had debated letting the cops know.

  ‘It won’t do any good,’ Beth had argued. ‘I’ll bet Jurado has already undergone surgery to his fingers. His prints will no longer be recognizable.’

  They agreed to a compromise. They would inform the cops once Nikolai and Razor were stopped.

  ‘We checked with Interpol, the Brits, the South Americans. No luck there.’ Meghan glared at Chang, who appeared to be nodding off.

  ‘What about your Russian friend?’ Konstantin asked.

  ‘He doesn’t know, either.’

  Andropov had raged and ranted, promising to tear apart Nikolai if he found him. The problem was, the Russian didn’t know who the arms dealer was. To complicate matters, he wasn’t aware of Razor.

  ‘They belong to me, if you find them,’ he had warned the twins. ‘They killed my men. They will pay a price.’

  Meghan had made a noncommittal noise and hung up. She sympathized with Andropov, but the arms dealer and the killer weren’t going to be handed over to their friend.

  ‘Where does that leave us?’ Konstantin asked.

  Pizaka found something interesting outside the window. Chang studied the ceiling as if Michelangelo had painted a masterpiece on it. The sisters didn’t say anything. Neither did Zeb, Bwana or Bear.

  ‘Dad,’ Angie broke the silence, impatiently. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘No,’ the billionaire looked perplexed.

  ‘Meghan and Beth. They want Razor to come after them. It is the only link to Nikolai.’

  ‘What about this sick game? Surely we can trace it —’

  ‘Which is likely bounced around on servers all over the world,’ Meghan cut in.

  ‘You can try to identify the players.’

  ‘We tried. We didn’t get anywhere.’

  ‘You can backtrack Kloops’ travel. See where he went. There will be security cameras.’

  He is a billionaire for a reason, Meghan admitted to herself.

  ‘We’ve done all of that, sir. We have hit a brick wall.’

  ‘But he’s a killer!’ Konstantin whirled on Zeb, Bwana and Bear. ‘Are you going to allow it?’

  ‘You misunderstand our relationship, sir,’ Bwana rumbled. ‘Beth and Meghan tell us what to do.’

  ‘He’ll kill you!’ the billionaire threw his hands up in frustration.

  ‘Many have tried, sir.’ Bwana crossed his arms across his chest, unperturbed. ‘They are still here.’

  Razor commenced his preparations that very day. He made a call and secured the services of a trusted partner. A man who made a living out of following others.

  Rufus — that was the only name he gave out — parked his van across from the Columbus Avenue office. His vehicle bore the signs of a pizza company. The firm had an office, and anyone calling it got a bright-voiced receptionist. The cover was elaborate and had stood the test of time and cops.

  Rufus was balding, had sunken eyes, a jowly face and a belly that threatened to pop the buttons off his coveralls.

  He seated himself heavily on a bench, unwrapped his lunch and bit into his burger. He belched when he had finished, then lay down on the bench for a nap.

  He woke several hours later and drove away into the sunset. His job was done.

  It was his van that did the real work. Its roof had concealed cameras and directional microphones. They could listen in to conversations within buildings, as long as they were held near the windows.

  Rufus repeated his act for the next three days, each time driving a different van and changing his appearance. One time, he wore a wig and a business suit. Another time he wore the uniform of a city maintenance worker.

  By the fifth day, Razor got what he wanted: Beth and Meghan’s routine. He knew the ad campaign was still running. He knew the sisters visited the call center at midday.

  He had to grab them to convey Nikolai’s message, and, as long as the campaign was running, he could create an opportunity.

  He made his plans.

  Chapter Forty

  The call came a week after the gang’s attack. Nothing much had happened in the intervening days. Calls kept coming in, but no real leads emerged.

  The game was still on the darknet, but no new bids were being entertained. Only two characters remained on it: the twins. There were static bids next to each name.

  The sisters thought about its significance but could only speculate. ‘Nikolai wants all attention on us,’ Beth surmised. ‘But I thought Razor was coming after us. Why would there be bids for us?’

  ‘He suspects we know about the game. The bids are to distract us. Draw our attention away from Razor.’

  ‘We’re just speculating, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Meghan agreed. They didn’t know for sure.

  They had set up another meeting with Jurado, but the former killer didn’t know anything more. The twins exchanged a glance when they saw that his fingertips were bandaged.

  The Harlem Stone Mafia heavies had lawyered up, and nothing useful was forthcoming on that front.

  Andropov wasn’t making any progress, either. He had put out the word in his network and had met with several Mafia leaders, but no one offered any information on Nikolai or Razor.

  Zeb and Angie were still out there. Moving from safe house to safe house. The daughter had made more calls, but this time no attackers had come.

  ‘We need to decide,’ Beth said as she looked at the call records, the numerous audio files on her screen.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Meghan grunted. She knew what her sister was referring to. They had to make a call soon on either continuing with or ending the ad blitz.

  She felt disappointed. She had hoped the media campaign would throw up a lead. Jurado’s confession and the Harlem gang’s attack had been the only outcome.

  Neither of those had helped in identifying Nikolai or Razor.

  The sisters didn’t have cold cases. They cracked each and every one they took on.

  This might be our first.

  And then the call came in, just after midday.

  A message appeared on their cell phones. The call center manager asking them to patch into an ongoing call.

  The sisters wore their headphones and conferenced in.

  ‘I know about Nikolai,’ a gravelly voice told the agent.

  ‘Who’s Nikolai, sir?’

  ‘He’s behind the attacks on Angie Konstantin.’

  ‘How do you know this, sir?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. I have stayed too long.’ The voice became nervous.

  ‘Sir, you need to give us more to claim the reward.’

  ‘I don’t care about the money,’ the voice grew frantic. ‘Nikolai will kill me if he finds out.’

  ‘How do you know him, sir?’

  ‘I am hanging up.’

  Beth hurriedly typed a text and sent it to the manager.

  ‘Wait, sir. Can you meet Mr. Konstantin’s representatives?’

  ‘That’s even more dangerous. Why don’t you understand? I have taken a big risk in calling you. Nikolai listens to everything. He will kill —’

  ‘Sir,’ Meghan cut in, ‘my name is Meghan Petersen. I am authorized by Mr. Konstantin to give you this reward. However, we need more, sir, if we want to put Nikolai in prison.’

  The caller hesitated.

  ‘How can I trust you?’ he demanded.

  ‘You can call Mr. Konstantin’s office.’ She recited a number. ‘He will personally verify what I am saying. Or you can call the NYPD.’

  She gave another number. ‘They will confirm that we, my sister Beth and I, are legit.’

  ‘All that money’s no use if I am
dead.’

  ‘NYPD will protect you, sir, if you give us enough on Nikolai.’

  ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘Sir, you might have heard of the Harlem Stone Mafia’s attack on Angie Konstantin. Nikolai was behind that. The more you delay, the more risk she is in. Your information can help us close him down.’

  ‘I’m scared.’ The caller started hyperventilating. ‘I have seen Nikolai kill. I don’t want him to know about me.’

  ‘He won’t, sir.’

  ‘Can you meet me?’ Decisiveness in his voice, now.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘All right. Let me think about it. I will call back.’

  ‘What’s your name, sir?’

  ‘Why?’ Suspicious.

  ‘We can’t just refer to you as Caller A, sir.’

  ‘Oh, all right. Rufus. You can call me that.’

  ‘Please call again, Rufus. A lot is hanging on you.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ Rufus replied querulously and hung up.

  Nikolai’s name wasn’t public knowledge, which was why Meghan had joined the call.

  It looked like Rufus was the real deal, judging by what he had said.

  ‘He could be someone like Hidalgo,’ Meghan thought aloud. ‘Someone who’s done business with the Russian and is now scared for his life.’

  Beth held up a finger. She was on the phone to the fence.

  ‘It’s me. Beth. Nope, we aren’t calling off the ads just yet. Stop. Listen to me. Did you come across anyone named Rufus?’

  Meghan could hear Hidalgo, even though her sister was a few feet away and the call wasn’t on speaker.

  ‘You sure?’’ Beth asked and made a face when another burst of noise filled the air. ‘All right —.’ But the fence had hung up.

  ‘He sounded unhappy.’ Meghan absently made a paper plane and let it fly in the empty office.

  ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Beth chuckled. ‘He said he didn’t know all the criminals in the world. Or Nikolai’s associates. That we shouldn’t be surprised if we see his or Jurado’s body.’

  ‘You told him that he wasn’t exactly a fine and upstanding citizen, didn’tcha? We wouldn’t shed a lot of tears if he was killed.’

  ‘I was getting there. He hung up.’

  They worked in a comfortable silence as they checked the Rufuses in their databases, especially those for whom there were voice prints. None matched their caller’s.

  He called the next day, at exactly the same time. He asked for Meghan by name, and when she responded, he demanded. ‘Bring the reward money in cash when we meet.’

  She was in a glass-walled cabin in the call center, with Beth. The manager hovered outside with Pizaka and Chang. A screen in front of her ran a program, analyzing it, showing that the caller was nervous, fearful, his stress levels high.

  ‘Why can’t you tell me what you know, right now?’

  ‘You think I’m a fool?’ Rufus was shrill. ‘I want the reward. I need it to rebuild my life. We meet. You bring the money. I count it. I tell you everything. That’s how it’s gonna go down.’

  Chang gave her a thumbs-up from outside. Agree, it meant.

  Not so quickly, she thought.

  ‘We’ll bring a hundred thousand as a gesture of good faith. You’ll get the rest when we verify your information.’

  ‘You —’

  ‘Rufus, you get to keep the hundred thou no matter what happens,’ she cut him off. ‘That’s the way this deal will happen.’

  The two cops made angry faces at her hardball stance. She ignored them. She knew what she was doing. Giving in too quickly will rouse his suspicions.

  ‘Okay,’ Rufus replied, after a tense silence.

  Chang closed his eyes and looked heavenward. ‘Great,’ Meghan told the caller. ‘We’ll meet —’

  ‘No. I’ll decide where we meet.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You know the Verrazano bridge?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The bridge, a double-decked suspension construction, connected Brooklyn to Staten Island.

  ‘There’s a juice bar near the Harbor Defense Museum, which isn’t far from the bridge. We’ll meet there. In two days, same time. No cops. Just you.’

  ‘It will be me and my sister.’

  ‘All right. But no more.’

  ‘How will we recognize you?’

  ‘You don’t worry about that. I know how the two of you look.’ Rufus hung up.

  Chang burst into the room, Pizaka close behind.

  ‘Any trace on him?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Nope,’ the cop replied in disgust. ‘All we know is he was somewhere downtown. Traveling. Looks like he was in a vehicle.’

  ‘It could be a trap.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘It could be Razor who called,’ Beth continued. ‘It could,’ Meghan admitted. ‘Do we have a choice, however?’

  The ensuing silence was her reply.

  ‘You’ll wear a wire,’ Pizaka began. ‘We’ll have officers —’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she glared at him. ‘We’ll handle this. Our way. No cops, no cruisers. Neither of you will be present.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘Keep out of it, Pizaka.’

  There are three obvious ways to outmaneuver a trap.

  Don’t walk into one is the first.

  Meghan and Beth had no such choice.

  The third option is to walk in blindly, hope and pray.

  The twins didn’t think much of that alternative.

  The second is to expect a trap and prepare for it.

  Beth and Meghan went with that one.

  It was possible that Rufus was Razor. However, until they’d met him and heard him out, they would have to play the hand they had.

  That afternoon, a courier delivered a briefcase to their office. It had neatly wrapped bundles of hundred-dollar bills totaling the good faith amount. Arranged by Hiram Konstantin.

  They went to the basement of their building, to a large room adjacent to the parking lot, and inspected the various tools, toys, and weapons at their disposal.

  ‘We’ll find a way to get his prints,’ Beth told her, ‘and put this on his clothing.’

  She held up a shiny coin that looked like a dollar. It weighed the same but was a tracker as well as a listening device.

  They checked out the juice bar the next day. It existed, right where Rufus told them. They stepped out of their ride and inspected the neighborhood. The museum’s roof was visible in the distance. A school nearby. Houses and commercial establishments. The rumble of traffic on the bridge, which dominated the skyline.

  They went inside the bar. It was small: fifteen tables, three servers, and a woman behind the counter. It backed up into a yard that was a parking lot. A pickup and several garbage bags in it.

  They ordered drinks and looked over the joint. A restroom in a corner. Just one entry for customers. There was a room behind the counter for staff, which opened into the backyard. A window facing the street. No cameras.

  The juice bar had a few new accessories when the sisters left. Salt shakers on several tables, which held concealed, battery-operated wi-fi cameras.

  That evening, they watched the camera feeds and played back the voices on them. No match to Rufus.

  They weren’t disappointed. If Rufus was Razor, he wouldn’t make dumb mistakes.

  They set out at six am the next day to the juice bar. Not early by New York standards. Traffic was already fuming and raging by the time they hit Columbus Avenue.

  Their plan was simple. They would park a block away from the bar. Wait inside an empty cab that had a good sight line to the bar, and watch.

  The cab, which they had arranged the previous night, was in place. A duffel bag in the rear of their SUV carried the surveillance equipment they would need.

  They were ready for Rufus.

  Meghan made good time to Brooklyn, traffic lighter as she reached the museum and navigated through the
school-going traffic.

  A trundling semi ahead. Looked like it was lost, and the driver was looking for routes to get onto the Belt Parkway connector to the bridge. Traffic hadn’t started backing up yet behind the large vehicle. Theirs was the only one.

  Meghan honked and swore. She lowered her window to lean out and yell at the driver.

  Saw something large at the edge of her vision. Approaching fast.

  ‘Watch out!’ she yelled.

  A truck rammed into them from behind. Another came from the side and smashed into Beth’s side. A Jeep driven by a shades-wearing, impassive man crashed into the side of the vehicle, buckling her door.

  The semi backed up and rear-ended into them.

  It all happened so fast that neither of them could react. The successive impacts jarred them. Their SUV’s airbags deployed, shoving them against their seats.

  Meghan struggled to get free, tried to reach for her phone. She saw Beth trying to do the same out of the corner of her eye.

  Sirens. Cruisers. They came onto the scene quickly, several of them, surrounding the accident.

  Cops leaped out. An ambulance arrived. Its crew rushed to their vehicle.

  Something smashed their windscreen. A masked man leaned through it, holding some kind of spray in his hand.

  ‘Don’t … breathe,’ Meghan told her sister, her voice slurring as she tried to go for her Glock.

  Razor, she thought. He outwitted us.

  Darkness fell.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  A low rumble and shaking.

  Meghan tried to open her eyes and move. She couldn’t.

  Her eyelids opened a crack. It was dark.

  Inside a vehicle, she thought. It was cold. She turned her head, slowly, because her body didn’t seem to respond quickly to commands.

  Another figure next to her. Beth. Breathing. Eyes closed. Unconscious.

  She licked her lips. Tried to get her mind in working order. Opened her eyes as wide as she could to take in the vehicle.

  Recognized the equipment inside, in the dim light.

  We’re in an ambulance. She remembered the EMS vehicles rushing to the scene. She hadn’t given them much thought, but now … they were part of the trap.