The special agent turned to look at his boss. “Yes, sir. The jet that brought Blake here is still at Reagan. It’s refueled and ready to go.”
“Good.”
“What about the suspect, sir?”
“Still in custody,” said Ward. “Whatever his plan, he’s not going to be able to do much from inside Level Zero. He’s locked down – don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere.”
“He won’t have to,” Leopold said, leaning forward. “Regardless of what we think is going on, Robert Blake is right where he wants to be.”
Chapter 14
MARY TIPPED THE driver and climbed out of the cab at Leopold’s apartment building. The neighborhood was as quiet and as secluded as New York City could ever be, just a short walk from Central Park. The doorman tipped his hat as he recognized her, opening the front door to let her through. Inside, the heating blasted out on its highest setting and the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with big hair, buzzed her through to the elevators with a bright smile.
“He expecting you this time, hon?” she asked.
“Let’s hope not,” said Mary, breezing past.
“That bad, huh?”
“Do me a favor: don’t tell him I’m coming.” She winked.
“Haven’t seen him since he came in a few hours ago – I’ll make sure to keep quiet.” She smiled again and Mary called for an elevator.
Stepping through once the doors opened, Mary punched in the six-digit visitors’ code that Leopold had given her and composed herself as the carriage began its ascent. As she reached the top floor, the elevator slowed to a halt. Mary racked her brains for the next code, the one that wouldn’t set off the alarms, and was interrupted as the doors slid open on their own.
That’s a little weird, she thought. He must have forgotten to lock up before bed.
She shrugged and stepped out into the hallway, careful not to make any noise. The apartment was quiet, seemingly deserted, and the lights were glowing just enough for her to see where she was going – essential if she wanted any chance of avoiding the piles of junk scattered all over the floors. Checking around for any signs of life, she crept forward and made for the living room.
Empty. The tall windows looked down over the Upper East Side toward the river, the dark expanse of Central Park in-between. At this height, Mary could make out Hoboken and Jersey City across the water, and she took a moment to soak in the view. Content nobody was hiding behind the sofas, Mary checked the kitchen and the bedrooms. All empty.
Where the hell are you, Blake? She headed back for the elevators, wondering whether she should hang around and catch Blake on his return from wherever. She stopped dead as she passed the study, the door wide open. She noticed a red glow from beneath the desk casting strange shadows across the room.
Curious, she stepped inside and took a closer look, getting down on her knees. Strapped to the underside of the desk, she saw a strange metallic device. Cables weaved in and out, something nestled at the center, surrounded by steel and circuitry. Mary’s breath caught in her throat.
Holy shit.
Heart thumping against her ribcage, she got to her feet slowly, backing toward the open door. She reached for her phone but found her hand shaking too much. With a studied breath, Mary calmed herself down and located the handset at the bottom of her handbag. She unlocked the screen and nearly jumped out of her skin as the phone vibrated in her palm.
She stood rooted to the spot, a single name flashing up on the display.
“Blake, what the hell is going on?” she said, answering the call.
“Mary, where are you?” Leopold replied, his voice muffled by considerable background noise. Was he on the move?
“I’m at your apartment. Where the hell are you?”
“Washington, D.C.,” he said. “En route to New York. ETA is two hours. Listen, it’s not safe at my place. You need to get out.”
“No shit,” said Mary. “There’s a goddamn bomb strapped to your desk.”
A pause on the line.
“Leopold?”
“Yes, I’m here,” he said. “You need to listen to me very carefully. The apartment has been compromised. I’m with Director Ward of the FBI. I’m going to need to pass you over to him.”
Mary heard muted voices on the other end of the call, but she couldn’t make out the words. Another voice came on the line.
“Sergeant Jordan, this is Richard Ward. Blake and I have worked together in the past.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Mary said. “Maybe we can skip the pleasantries and you can tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Long story short; Blake is helping with an investigation. It appears his home has been targeted. Are you sure there’s an explosive device in there with you?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m sure. I’m standing right next to it.”
“Okay, calm down,” he said. “It’s very important you don’t make any sudden movements. Whoever set the explosive might have designed it to go off if disturbed. You need to stay where you are until we get there.”
“Until you get here? What about the damn bomb squad?”
Another pause. Leopold’s voice came back on the line.
“Mary, there’s something you should know.”
“What?”
“He’s back.”
“Who’s back?”
“My father. Those calls, the letters, the company, everything. It was all him. He’s back.”
“Jesus, Blake.” Mary felt her heart thump even harder.
“Whatever he’s planning, it’s possible he’s got the penthouse under surveillance. If we call the bomb squad and they attempt to disarm the device, whoever he’s working with might trigger the bomb remotely.”
“Are you insane? You expect me to wait here?”
“I need to figure out what game he’s playing,” Leopold said. “You’ll be safe so long as you stay exactly where you are. He wants me to go back to the apartment. It’s unlikely anything’s going to happen while we’re in the air. But if we tip our hand early and call in the cavalry, we might lose our only chance of figuring out what’s going on. Just stay where you are until I get to you, we can decide the next move then.”
“I knew it. Insane. Completely insane.”
“Trust me, Mary.”
“You’re really going to try that approach?” she said.
“Ward’s with me on this,” said Leopold. “He’ll arrange for a plainclothes team to keep the building secure. He’ll order them to wait downstairs. They’ll text your cell when they arrive.”
“Text message? How’s that going to help?”
“A phone call might get intercepted. The FBI can send an SMS through an encrypted line; hopefully it’ll get lost in the noise. In the meantime, just try not to move. Or make any noise.”
“Oh, easy enough then?”
“We’ll get there soon, Mary.”
Mary swore. “Fine, just make sure you get someone on site who knows what the hell they’re talking about.”
“We’ll get the best, don’t worry.”
“And hurry the hell up.” She bit her lip. “Oh, and Blake?”
“Yes?”
“If I make it out of this, which I sincerely hope I do, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“That’s…”
Mary hung up.
Chapter 15
“WE’VE GOT MOVEMENT, sir.”
Colonel Hawkes looked up from his smart phone. “Report.” The hotel building opposite Blake’s apartment building provided the perfect view of the penthouse, fifty-one stories up. Thanks to the infrared scope Campbell had installed by the window, Hawkes’ team could keep a close eye on their target without resorting to hacking the CCTV feed and running the risk of being detected. Campbell peered through the scope as he spoke. “It’s a little difficult to make out, sir. The rear sections of the apartment aren’t showing up on the thermal imager, but there’s definitely somebody in there, sir.”
/>
“Let me see.” Hawkes strode over to the window and took Campbell’s seat. He put one eye to the scope and surveyed the scene in front of him. Adjusting the optical zoom, he aimed the viewfinder toward the entrance hall. Most of the apartment was bathed in a cool blue, certain sections glowing a muddy red where ambient heat signatures remained; the boiler room, the laundry room, and the plumbing all showed up. Ignoring them, Hawkes focused on the area near the study. That’s when he saw it – a brighter heat signature, definitely human.
“Confirmed,” Hawkes said. “Can we get an ID?”
“Sir, cell phone activity in the area is too high to isolate a signal,” Grayson said, holding up a tablet computer. “I’ve stripped it down to 9-1-1 calls only. If whoever’s in there decides to inform the police, we can pull out their number and run a trace.”
Hawkes frowned. “If they were going to call for assistance, they would have done it already.” He adjusted the scope again, zooming out. “I can’t make out any other heat signatures, but parts of the apartment are dead zones. The walls are too thick. Anything on the security systems?”
Grayson nodded. “We left it disarmed. Anyone using a code to gain entry to the floor should show up in the logs, sir.” He tapped the tablet’s screen. “One entry after we pulled out, sir.”
“The name?”
Grayson squinted. “Record reads ‘Sergeant Jordan,’ sir.”
“We’ll have to thank Blake for his attention to detail,” said Hawkes. “Pull up Jordan’s file.”
“Sergeant Mary Jordan, known associate of Blake’s, works homicide for the NYPD. She could be a threat, sir.”
Hawkes kept his eye on the heat signature. “She’s not making a move.”
“She might discover the device, sir.” Campbell said. “There’s still time for extraction.”
“Negative. The plan is to lie low until Blake arrives. Until and unless she poses a credible threat, we continue to observe. Understood?”
Grayson and Campbell answered in the affirmative.
“Good. Then resume your positions.” Hawkes stood up and returned to his chair.
The hotel bedroom was a mess. Laptops, cables, and myriad other equipment covered the bed and floor, with more gear tucked away in the bathroom. Thanks to some gentle persuasion, the hotel manager had upgraded them to a deluxe room – complete with separate living room and dining area – and the rest of the suite was also being put to good use; the dining table had become a mobile tech lab, the sitting room acted as comms hub, and the bedroom made the perfect surveillance nest.
Hawkes noted with some disgust that the nightly rate for the suite ran almost double the weekly pay he used to receive from Uncle Sam. He tried not to let this bother him. Soon enough, he’d have his pick of the world’s best hotels and resorts, maybe even his own island off the coast of Mexico to live out the rest of his days. No more living from paycheck to paycheck – a lifetime of service was about to pay off. Big time.
“Kowalski, update report.” Hawkes called through the doorway into the dining room. A tall, skinny soldier looked up from behind a mess of wires, screwdriver in hand. He wore a set of thick-rimmed glasses, dangling carelessly from the end of his nose.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Phase three is underway, our contact has provided the encryption codes. We’re working on a tunnel now, sir.”
“ETA?”
“Any minute now, sir.”
“Good.”
Kowalski returned to his task and disappeared behind the tangle of cables. The remaining two soldiers, Higgs and Stanton, were stationed in the living room, engrossed in their laptops.
“You two,” Hawkes said, getting up and making his way through. “Do we have our foot in the door?”
Higgs, the larger of the two, looked up from his keyboard. “Feet, legs, arms, head, we’re almost there, sir.” He kept typing as he spoke. “We just need to set the Trojan and we’re good to go, sir.”
“Let’s get this tied up. We need to be ready to move when Blake gets here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gentlemen, stay alert,” said Hawkes, returning to the bedroom. “If everything goes to plan, in the next few hours, we’re going to hit the FBI’s most-wanted list and half the planet is going to be after our blood.” He smiled and took a seat. “Let’s try to make sure everything goes off with a bang, shall we?”
Chapter 16
LEOPOLD STIFLED A yawn as he climbed out of the SUV, hoping the icy winds outside would wake him up a little. The flight had been largely uneventful, but typical NYC traffic back into the city had stretched his patience a little too far. He was almost disappointed that Agents Smith and Coleman hadn’t come to pick them up; he might have enjoyed taking some frustration out on them. Instead, an empty car had been left waiting at Teterboro, the same dull, black Chevy model Marshall had driven earlier, although this one looked a little older. Director Ward had elected to stay behind in D.C. in an effort to coordinate the intel work with Agent Carter, leaving Marshall in charge. He hadn’t taken it well.
Now, parked on the curb outside his apartment building once again, Leopold was doing his best to make Marshall feel uncomfortable.
“Blake, I need you to keep behind me while I locate the field team,” the agent said, climbing out of the driver’s seat.
“You mean those guys inside pretending to be cleaning staff?” Leopold pointed inside, where two men dressed in blue overalls were dusting down the lobby.
Marshall grunted. “Just follow my lead.”
Jerome stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Marshall locked up and marched toward the front doors.
“He’s with me,” said Leopold, as the porter stepped forward to intercept. “This is my new assistant. He’s new, and a little bit clueless, but I’ve got high hopes.”
“Very good, sir,” the porter said, opening the door.
“Just keep the wisecracks to yourself, Blake,” Marshall said, making his way inside. “In case you’d forgotten, your girlfriend’s upstairs – maybe we can focus?”
“She’s not his girlfriend,” said Jerome.
“Why am I not surprised?” Marshall pulled out his badge and approached the nearest cleaner. “Special Agent Jack Marshall, FBI. Is the building secure?”
The man glanced up, feather duster in hand, a look of confusion on his face. Across the room, the receptionist put down her phone and looked over in their direction.
“Well?” said Marshall.
“Mas de que raio estás tu a falar?” The man backed away a little.
Marshall looked over at the other cleaner, who looked similarly flummoxed.
“I said I’m with the FBI. I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Portuguese, actually,” Leopold said, stepping forward. “Relax, I was just having a little fun. This is Felipe.” He gestured toward the nearest cleaner. “And Frank’s over there.”
The second cleaner waved nervously.
“What the hell?”
“They look after the building. Do a great job too.” Leopold grinned. The two men nodded and returned to their duties.
“We don’t have time for this,” Marshall said, still holding on to his badge. “We need to find the field team and get upstairs. Stop wasting my time.”
“My time is worth more than yours, I assure you.” Leopold walked toward the reception desk. “Sorry for the disruption, Carolyn. Busy night?”
The receptionist smiled. “Same old, same old.”
“Listen, you get anyone come through here looking to inspect the gas pipes?”
Carolyn nodded, her big hairdo bobbing up and down. “Yeah, two guys came through a little while ago. They had the right paperwork so I let them go on through.” She paused. “Is that why the FBI is here? Some kind of gas leak?” A look of concern. “Should we get out now?”
“Hold tight, Carolyn. We’ll let you know. Stay on the phones.”
She nodded again.
“Do you know what floor they’re
on?”
“Fiftieth. Just below your apartment.” Carolyn picked up the phone again. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone? We can get this place cleared out pretty quick. You know, since we had that nice police lady come by and give us all that training. Shouldn’t take long – most people are wintering somewhere a little warmer this time of year.”
“Maybe start preparing,” said Leopold. “I’ll let you know if we need to move out.”
Carolyn smiled. “Sure thing, Mr. Blake.”
“Gas pipes? What the hell are you talking about?” Marshall marched up to the desk.
Jerome followed close behind. “You want to tell him or should I?” he said.
“Nobody asks too many questions when you say you’re coming to inspect the gas pipes,” Leopold said. “And it just so happens a routine check was scheduled almost immediately following our little conversation with Mary.” He looked straight at Marshall. “Is this your first week on the job or something?”
The special agent ignored him. “Are you going to take us up there or not?”
“Be my guest.”
Carolyn unlocked the turnstile and kept one eye on Marshall as Leopold led the three of them through to the elevators. The doors opened and the consultant selected the fiftieth floor.
“What, no access code for the poor guys on fifty?” Marshall said, as the elevator slowed to a halt and opened up.
“Oh, please,” Leopold said, stepping out onto the carpet. “If you’re going to raid a deluxe apartment building, you aim for the penthouse.” He waved the others forward. “I’m guessing our friends are camping in the stairwell, out of sight. Follow me.”
He led them down the hallway and around the corner, aiming for the fire exit at the end of the corridor.
“Get ready, gentlemen.” He pushed open the door to the stairwell, feeling cool air hit his face. At the top of the stairs, two men wearing thick brown jackets stood against the wall, studying their cell phones. They looked up as Leopold stepped through.
Fallen: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers Book 5) Page 6