"Please listen, Frank. I am calling from a friend's house, someone high up in our government. What I have to say must be said in a special way.
There is a chance we will be cut off. If I cannot speak as openly as I like, you will understand."
"I hear you, Luis. Go ahead."
"Before we met, you had some trouble here."
"I haven't forgotten," Janek said.
"Just this week there were important changes in that agency. People who were in charge are no longer in charge, and others, including some of my friends, now have the upper hand."
"Go on."
"These friends, people I have known for years, tell me that my role assisting you did not come about by accident. It was, they tell me now, prearranged. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Janek sat still. "I'm not sure."
"it would seem that all the things that happened-between you and personnel of that agency, between you and me, between the two of us and the lady-were planned out in advance. It was Fonseca's operation. What I am saying, Frank, is that he knew you were coming even before you arrived. Arresting you had nothing to do with papers found in your luggage."
Janek felt something throb along his rib cage. When he brought his hand to his forehead, he felt sweat.
"Still there?"
"I'm here, Luis. Go on."
"Using me that way was classic technique. Bad cop/ good cop. Except I did not know I was playing a part." Luis sounded concerned. "Please believe me, Frank. If I had participated in this, I would not be telling you now."
"I know that. What about Tania? Was she playing a part, too? Was she tampered with?"
Luis paused. "Remember your last night here? We discussed whether she might have told a big lie. I cannot be sure, but now I believe that she did."
Shit!
"It is what they call ' cinema,' Frank. The agency specializes in such dramas. I told you your interrogator was an actress. Now it turns out they were all actors. And the place they took you to was not a real installation. It was built for such things, like a stage set.
Do you understand?"
I understand, all right! Why didn't I spot it? How could I have been so dumb?
"Listen, Luis… " He heard panic in his voice. "Who was behind it? Do you know?"
"Fonseca was what they call ' director." Perhaps this will be of some comfort to you: He is now in prison, accused of drug trafficking. He will soon be tried for that and for peligrosidad. It is possible he will be executed. The only thing I have been able to discover is that several months ago he was in New York on a covert mission working on a drug investigation in collaboration with U.S. authorities. So, my thought is that the cinema he spun around you was in exchange for assistance he received from someone up there." Luis paused. "I am only guessing, Frank. Now they are signaling me to get off. I will call again if I find out more. Believe me, I did not look forward to telling you this.
Believe also that what I have told you is true."
"Thank you, Luis. You are a brave man."
"Perhaps not so brave, Frank. But you are my friend. I hope next time we will have a happier conversation."
After Janek put down the phone he sat in his chair absolutely still. He knew there was no possibility that Luis had lied; if he had knowingly participated in the cinema, he would not have called to confess it.
Which meant, Janek realized, that he had been set up by someone in his own department. It was as if, he decided, he'd been stumbling around in a maze as devious, confusing and illusionistic as the one Gelsey's father had built. The charade was so baroque, it was worthy of Dakin.
And, he remembered, Dakin's buddy Baldwin had been present the night he had met with Angel Figueras. But Janek didn't think Dakin and Baldwin were behind the Cuban cinema. He had a sickening feeling who was.
Tom Shandy, the red-haired sergeant who guarded the door to Kit's office, was not encouraging. Chief Kopta was in a meeting, then had to go home to change for dinner with the commissioner. Sure, Janek could take a seat, and perhaps Shandy could slip him in. It would make things easier if Janek would tell him what he wanted, or, if it was confidential, he could write a note to the chief and Shandy would carry it to her.
"I'll do that," Janek said. He pulled out his notebook, scrawled the word Mendoza, ripped out the page, folded it and handed it to Shandy.
"Just give her this."
Shandy, who had pretended to avert his eyes but had seen him write the forbidden word, nodded knowingly.
"I'll see she gets it right away."
Fifteen minutes later, a half dozen detectives lumbered out of Kit's office. They had the hangdog look of big men who'd been harshly rebuked by a small, authoritative woman. One nodded to Janek, but the others walked quickly into the hall. There'll be some hard drinking tonight, Janek thought.
A minute later Shandy waved him through. "Try to move it along, Lieutenant. Gotta get the chief outa here."
Kit was at her desk, writing. The room smelled of the sweat of the berated detectives who'd just left.
"Be right with you, Frank. Take a seat."
He moved toward her desk, but didn't sit. Rather he stood opposite her, waiting until she glanced up at him, a curious smile on her lips.
"You don't look too happy," she observed.
"You set me up."
He spoke the words as quietly and simply as he could. He had rehearsed his phrasing in her waiting room.
"What?" She stopped writing, focused on his eyes. "What're you talking about?" She smiled more broadly, but he didn't smile back.
"In Cuba. They were waiting for me. You told them I was coming."
She stared at him, eyes steady, unblinking. Then the stale smell in the room gave way to something else. When he'd entered he'd been uncertain of his ground. No longer. Kit's reaction was too stressful, her gaze too concentrated, her attempt to appear opaque too obvious.
"Fonseca's in jail. He'll probably be executed. For drug dealing and something they call peligrosidad. Know what that means, Kit?
Dangerousness." He paused. "You've been playing with a very bad boy."
He gazed at her. Still her eyes didn't waver. She showed him nothing and that infuriated him.
"When I came back from Cuba and we sat here together, you pretended you didn't know what happened down there.
"I didn't."
"Maybe not the details, but you sure as hell knew the drift." He glared at her. "Didn't you?"
She looked down for a moment, then met his eyes again. When she spoke it was nearly in a whisper. "I told him not to hurt you, Frank. He promised me he wouldn't."
"Bitch!" He whispered the insult. She trembled before it. Then he spoke loudly, hoping her staff would hear, and cluster, worried, outside her door:
"Think it doesn't hurt to be locked up in a closet for three days, pissing and shitting in a bucket, then some gorilla throws in a lousy crust of bread hoping it falls into your slop? Get slapped across the mouth when you ask to see the American consul? Sit in a smock cut short so it doesn't cover your balls, while a vicious anorexic, with snake's eyes and khaki nail polish, smirks at pictures of you lying naked on the floor? No, there weren't any injuries, Kit! Just the kind of experiences that haunt you while you're trying to get to sleep. I wasn't really harmed-just humiliated, made to feel like shit." He shook his head.
"Then they were clever. They sent over a nice young detective who treated me like a human being. I did my job. But, see, I would have done it anyway. So, tell me-why, the fuck did I have to go through all that. first?"
There was a knock on the door. Shandy stuck in his head.
"Everything okay, Chief?"
Kit waved her hand. Shandy squinted at Janek, then withdrew.
"I didn't know about any of that. I'm sorry."
Her regret was so perfunctory, it maddened him even more.
"How'd you think they'd do it? Put me up in a luxury suite, then have me worked over by some jineteros?"
"Hub?"<
br />
"Tourist prostitutes."
She shook her head. "It was wrong. I shouldn't have gone for it. I'm so sorry, Frank. At the time it seemed like a good idea." She paused.
"Obviously it wasn't."
Sure, you're sorry-now that I've. figured it out.
"Why? Why'd you even think to do something like that?" She didn't answer. Was he seeing things or were her eyes actually watering up? "I didn't go down there to clear Mendoza. I went there for you. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for you. Anything! Until five this afternoon." He shook his head. "I want an explanation. I'm not asking, I'm demanding."
She nodded, stood, walked over to the window.
"You deserve that… of course."
He studied her as she stared down at Police Plaza. Lights were coming on in the surrounding buildings. The sky was almost dark.
"Fonseca was here, working with DEA. The way they explained it to me, Castro wanted to show us he wasn't in the drug business, so he was getting rid of all his people who were. One day I got a call from my counterpart at DEA. ''s this Cuban security colonel here. He says he's got something'll interest you. Can we send him over?"
" She turned to Janek. "All day long I see detectives. Three years in this job and I can tell right away if a guy's got it or not. Fonseca had it. Intelligence, confidence. You'd expect a Cuban coming in here to maybe act a little intimidated. Not Fonseca. He was matter-of-fact. He talked to me like we were equals." She paused.
"Maybe I got suckered. I didn't know he was in trouble. Wait till the DEA guys find out. They'll be shitting in their pants!"
She grinned at him, an obvious attempt to warm him up. But Janek didn't warm. He thought: I'm not giving her an inch till I hear it all.
"Fonseca got to the point pretty quick. Mendoza's maid-somehow he knew we'd been looking for her-was in Havana working for his government.
Since the case was so divisive here, maybe I'd be interested in sending someone down to talk to her. She was, he assured me, willing to be interviewed. In fact, she'd come to the Seguridad herself.
"Of course I was interested. How could I not be? Dakin's still got buddies around, guys like Baldwin, who think they own the Department.
I've been wanting to clean house ever since I got sworn in, clear up Mendoza once and for all and get rid of the rest of Dakin's crowd. Maybe this Tania knew something that could help clear the case. I told Fonseca I'd send someone down."
"Right, someone."
"It had to be you, Frank." The room had grown dim; as she spoke she turned on the lamps. "You'd worked on the case, you knew a lot about it, but you weren't tainted. No one had more knowledge, more credibility.
There wasn't anyone else."
"So you decided to set me up."
"It wasn't like that. Fonseca said that Tania really knew something and if I wanted to clear the case it would be a good idea to make sure my interviewer believed what she had to say. He said he could make sure you were receptive by arresting you first, scaring you a little, then pairing you with a gentle cop who'd guide you through the interview."
"Bad cop/good cop to soften me up! I can't believe I'm hearing this!"
"It's true, I swear."
"Oh, I believe that's what he said. I just can't believe you'd buy into such bullshit."
"He made sense, Frank. I didn't want any screw-ups. What I had in mind for Baldwin and the others had to be perfectly executed. I couldn't take a chance."
"No, there's gotta be more." He peered at her. "You screwed him, didn't you?" She stared back ferociously. Sure, that's it. Fonseca sized you up: ' tough, unmarried middle-aged female police executive.
No time for a lover or a relationship. All she needs is a good fucking.
I'll give it to her and she'll eat shit out of my hand."
"Stop it, Frank!"
"Sure, that's it." He nodded. "He fucked your brains out and afterwards you told him everything. You discussed it with him like you were… ha!
Colleagues."
She screamed at him: "Will you stop!"
He turned; he couldn't bear to look at her. "You never stopped to think why he would propose such a screwy deal. What rancid pile of goods he was selling. No, you just took the bait, same way DEA did. A guy like Fonseca takes in everybody. Except now, it seems, he may have gone too far."
"I was lonely, Frank."
She moaned the word. He refused to look at her. He didn't want to feel moved.
"I'm sure you were. So are we all at times. I'm sure Fonseca was a terrific lover, too. I'm sure the whole event did wonders for your complexion, made you feel ten years younger. So, tell me, Kit-how do you feel now?"
"You're enjoying this. And you're so bitter."
"Me?" He laughed. "Way back when the two of us… " He shook his head.
"You were a great kid then. Fun to be with, fun to kiss. You laughed a lot and showed a lot of vulnerability. I was crazy about you.
Maybe you liked me a little, too." He shrugged. "You had it all looks, guts, smarts and an ambition like nothing I'd ever seen. It burned in your eyes, Kit. You were going places, higher than I dreamed I'd ever go." He paused. "Well, you got what you wanted, became the first woman to make C of D. It cost you, though. You've become a tough little lady, the kind who sells out her oldest, most loyal friend." He moved away from her, to the other side of the room. Then he turned toward her again. "You got a nerve calling me bitter. I didn't betray you. You betrayed me. Or are you so far gone you can't tell the difference?"
When she answered her voice was humble. "I said I was sorry." She paused. "You know what they say-Mendoza makes you crazy." Sure… like that's a real good excuse. – "All right," he said, "let's cut the crap.
I got questions. I want answers." She nodded meekly, then sat in one of her leather easy chairs. "Was Angel for real?"
"He's her real brother. His arrest was a fake."
"For my benefit?"
"More for Dakin's via Baldwin."
"That was part of Fonseca's plan?"
"Well, most of it. We worked it out together." This is fucking unbelievable! "Gabelli?"
"He didn't know anything."
"What about Rampersad? Was she in on it? Or was she just another patsy?"
"She didn't know anything," Kit said.
Thank God for that!
"You could have tipped me off. I'd have probably gone along if you'd asked me. In fact, I would have insisted on it, just to find out what Fonseca was up to. That's what it's all about, you know. Or didn't it occur to you it was strange he was so interested in helping us close out Mendoza? Oh, sorry, I forgot. It was all just pillow talk, wasn't it?"
She wiped her forehead with her hand.
"Jesus, Kit! Was he such a great lay it never occurred to you he had his own agenda? Have you spent so many years playing headquarters politics, you've forgotten the most basic questions a detective has to ask: Who had what to gain and why? That's the job around here. But you didn't do it. You didn't do anything except… " He shook his head.
"Are you done insulting me?"
She's hopeless. But then something hit him: Could there have been a connection between Jake Mendoza and the Cubans? Why else would they have bothered? What did they care about NYPD internal politics?
"You may be guilty of obstruction of justice," he told her. She didn't blink. "I'd consult a private attorney if I were you."
But he could tell from her stare that she had no idea of how deeply she was compromised.
"All the stuff in Cuba-it didn't hurt me as much as I said. I'm a New York City detective, for Christ's sake. We're used to taking crap." He waited until she met his eyes. "What I can't handle is betrayal. That cuts too deep."
She studied him, her old tough self again, measuring him, trying to figure out what he was going to do.
"I want a transfer," he announced. "My whole squad out of here."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Shut up! You don't talk to me like that anymore."
She looked down at the carpet. "Okay, a transfer. Where to? Internal Affairs?"
"I want to report directly to the commissioner."
She started to protest, but he cut her off. "Shandy says you're going to have dinner with him tonight. That's when you'll arrange it."
"Tell me why?"
"I don't want to work for you anymore. Also, I'm going to solve Mendoza and I don't want to think about who might fall.,"
"Surely you don't think I-"
"I'm not saying what I think. I got one other case to finish up around here. I should be done with it tomorrow." He started across the room.
"Frank!" He turned. "Can't we, you know-?"
"Make it up?" He shook his head.
"Twenty years of friendship and now it's over-is that really how you want it?"
"Maybe someday I'll forgive you, Kit. But don't hold your breath."
He left without shutting the door.
The Snare That night he dreamed of mirrors.
He was wandering through a mirror maze like Gelsey's, but far more treacherous. As he made his way, the floors rolled like the deck of a ship, and the mirrors flexed toward him, sometimes touching above his head.
The reflections were different, too. Instead of giving back images of himself, they showed the likenesses of others: Jake Mendoza, Tania Figueras, Fonseca, Violetta, Dakin, Timmy Sheehan and Kit. These simulacra were threatening. They stared into his eyes with mockery.
Their expressions taunted: "You're lost, Janek. You'll never find your way out. Never!
Early the next morning he called Ray and Aaron at home, and explained his transfer request without mentioning Kit's duplicity. He told them that since, from a career point of view, it was probably a risky venture, they should feel free to transfer out of the squad.
Ray asked if he was serious. Aaron told him that he would regard exclusion from the Mendoza investigation as an act of personal betrayal.
When he called Sue, she responded with her own special twist:
"You friggin' kidding', Frank?" She was laughing. "You need a dyke cop like me who's, you know, politically correct."
After thanking her, he asked how Gelsey was doing.
"She's asleep. We were talking till late. She took me downstairs.
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