Fallen: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers Book 5)

by Nick Stephenson

  The desk supported three monitors, each displaying a satellite map of different areas of Manhattan. Hawkes could keep track of his men as they moved through the city, each operative marked by a pulsing red dot. The markers had now converged along Henry Hudson Highway, and were headed south from Washington Heights. It looked like they were moving fast.

  Right on schedule.

  Hawkes stifled a yawn and drained the last of his coffee. It had gone cold. Holding back his exhaustion, the colonel accessed his workstation’s operating system and noticed a conference call going through, linked into Blake’s office upstairs.

  Beats watching the dots move, Hawkes figured. He isolated the audio stream and slipped on a pair of headphones. Blake had apparently left the stream unencrypted. The feed came through loud and clear.

  “...and we’re expecting results,” a male voice said, in a heavy accent. Hawkes couldn’t place it, but the man sounded Middle Eastern.

  “In less than two hours, you’ll have all the results you ever wanted,” another voice said. The colonel recognized it as Robert Blake’s. He sounded a little drained, the last few days obviously having taken their toll.

  So, the man’s not a cyborg, Hawkes thought.

  Blake continued, “I trust you received your bonus?”

  “The documents? Yes. We thank you,” a third voice said. The accent sounded Japanese or Chinese. “We only hope you can live up to your other promises.”

  “Rest assured, gentlemen. Everything is proceeding as expected.”

  “Good. We’ll be in touch again when this is over.”

  Two of the three lines went dead. Blake’s line stayed active. Hawkes heard him breathing.

  “I trust you heard all that, colonel?” Blake said.

  Hawkes flinched.

  “I can see your workstation on my console.” Blake paused. “Relax, it’s nothing you shouldn’t have heard. We’re in this together, remember?”

  The colonel cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Just keeping myself in the loop.”

  “I’d expect nothing else.” Blake hung up.

  Hawkes breathed a sigh of relief and slipped off his headphones, switching the monitor back to the view of Manhattan. The pulsing red dots were getting closer. In a few hours, everything would be over. A better life awaited them all.

  And after all the years spent planning, waiting – Hawkes knew they had earned the right to live in peace. Enough blood had been spilled to last a thousand lifetimes. What difference would a few more lives make? Hawkes turned off the monitors and closed his eyes, listening to the steady beat of his own heart.

  In the end, sometimes the only justice is the one you make for yourself.

  Chapter 64

  “IT’S WORKING,” MARSHALL said, pressing his cell phone to his ear. “Seven more devices found. All hidden inside the engine bays.”

  Mary looked over at him. She was on her phone also, on hold for Director Ward. “Seven isn’t going to cut it,” she said. “There could be hundreds more.”

  “We’ll keep looking.”

  There came a scuffling noise through the speaker and Mary turned her attention back to her cell. Richard Ward came on the line.

  “Jordan, I need an update.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve found nine devices in total. They’re right where we thought they’d be – lining the evacuation routes. If we try to get people off the island, we’re going to have thousands of casualties.”

  “Then the only remaining question is what Blake’s planning to force us to consider evacuation protocols,” said Ward. “He must have something up his sleeve to get everyone panicked enough to consider getting out.”

  “We’re working on it, sir.”

  “You’re running out of time.”

  Mary gritted her teeth. You don’t have to tell me.

  “You had any leads on what Blake’s end game is?” asked Ward.

  “No, sir.”

  “What’s your sister’s take on this?”

  “Haven’t spoken to her yet, sir. Now we’ve located some of the devices, she might be able to –”

  “Get her on the phone,” said Ward. “Get a conference call going; I want you two working together on this.”

  Mary sighed. “One moment, sir.” She put the director on hold and dialed her sister’s cell phone from memory. Kate picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Sis?”

  “Kate, we need your help.”

  “It’s about damn time.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At your apartment. I borrowed your laptop, hope you don’t mind.”

  “You need to get out of the city,” said Mary. “It’s not safe here.”

  “Bullshit. We’re in this together, sis. I’m not abandoning you. Not again. This is where I belong. Hell, if I knew where you were, I’d be out on the streets helping you out.”

  Mary sighed. “You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

  “Runs in the family.”

  Mary smiled. “Listen, I’ve got Director Ward on the line. He thinks...We think you can give us some insight on what Blake might be planning.”

  “You find any of the devices?”

  “Yeah. Nine of them.”

  “They like the ones we saw in New Jersey?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  Kata paused. “It’s not good news, sis.”

  “What? What did you find?”

  “I managed to log in to my department’s secure servers and check out the research I’d put together on Chemworks.”

  Mary took Ward off hold. “Director, can you hear me?”

  “I’m all ears, Sergeant. Your sister on the line?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “You figure out what’s in those bombs?”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” said Kate. “A few years ago, Chemworks was working on a transgenic method of producing the enzyme Butyrylcholinesterase. They used genetically modified livestock to figure out a way to produce higher quantities organically. It was a pretty big breakthrough – Butyrylcholinesterase can offer protection from organophosphate nerve agents. The kind found in Sarin or VX gas.”

  “And let me guess – someone decided to take the research in a new direction,” said Mary.

  “Looks like it. I think we’re looking at a modified version of VX. A more effective version. There’d only have to be a miniscule amount in the atmosphere to cause death. In this case, unlike regular VX, it’s just as deadly if inhaled. Usually, the worst effects come after contact with skin. But if Blake’s chemical is more resistant to Butyrylcholinesterase, even one or two milligrams inhaled would be enough to cause paralysis, even death.” She paused. “Basically, I’m saying if even half of one device’s payload is released into the atmosphere, it could contaminate an entire neighborhood. Worse, depending on the wind conditions.”

  “Is there an antidote?” asked Ward.

  “Without figuring out how they synthesized the agent, we won’t know for sure.”

  “So, if these things go off, there’s nothing we can do?”

  “Short of issuing a couple million HAZMAT suits, not really.”

  “Keep looking,” said Ward. “If you can find out anything that might help, I need to know. In the meantime, Jordan, I want you and your teams to keep searching the streets. I want every last one of these goddamn bombs found.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Mary. “Did you find anything in the case files that might help?”

  “I’m working an angle. It might not amount to much, but I’m getting close to finding some answers. I’ll brief you when I have more.” He hung up.

  “You get that, sis?” said Mary. “Do what you can. But stay inside. Understand?”

  “You got it. I’ll call you if I find anything.” Kate hesitated. “And Mary?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay safe, okay?”

  “You know me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Mary smiled. �
�I’ll be in touch.” She hung up.

  “What’s the word?” asked Marshall, slipped his own phone back into his jacket pocket.

  “Based on Kate’s research, it looks like we’re dealing with modified VX,” Mary said. “Once the two chemicals mix, a single device could take out thousands of people. And there’s no way to stop it unless the bomb squad figures out how to disarm them. If that’s even possible.”

  Marshall frowned. “We’ve combed this area. We’re not going to find anything else. It’s time we pulled out and let the bomb team do their job.”

  “This neighborhood links up to one of the busiest routes in and out of Manhattan,” said Mary. “If anything happens, we need to be here to help keep people safe.”

  “And we can do our job better if we’re out of the firing line. We can coordinate this just as well from the RTCC.”

  Mary stared at him. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? You want to run away?”

  “This isn’t running away,” said Marshall, his voice raised. “Try to think logically. We’re the ones in charge of keeping people safe. We can’t do that if we’re stuck in the middle. Maybe we can stop this happening, but we can’t do it from here.”

  “I swore an oath to protect and serve this city,” said Mary. “I’m not going anywhere.” She clenched her fists. “If you want to run away, nobody’s stopping you. But you’ll be doing it alone.”

  “Mary, think about this.”

  You’ve got to be joking. She resisted the urge to yell. “Look, you do what you want. I can’t ask you to stay, but I’m not going anywhere. People’s lives depend on what we do here today, and I’m damn sure not going to leave them to die.”

  “Mary...”

  “This conversation is over.”

  Marshall opened his mouth to reply, but a loud noise cut him off. Somewhere nearby, the sound of squealing tires and the roar of a big engine. Mary turned and glanced behind her.

  “What the hell?” Marshall took a step back as a huge black SUV skidded around the corner, wheels throwing up a plume of white smoke. A few pedestrians jumped out of the way, screaming obscenities at the driver. Mary instinctively reached for her hip as the vehicle rushed toward them, its engine revving madly.

  “Keep back,” she said to Marshall, as she unholstered her sidearm.

  The SUV lurched as whomever was driving turned the wheel, forcing the car to skid. It came to a screeching halt six feet from where Mary stood. She raised her weapon, aimed it at the passenger’s window.

  The door opened and a man stepped out. A little scruffy looking, with unkempt hair and dark stubble.

  Mary froze.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Leopold Blake locked eyes on her and smiled. “I thought about sending a postcard,” he said. “But I figured you’d want this particular message in person.”

  Mouth hanging open, Mary kept her gun held up. She shook her head, taking a moment to let the situation sink in. The smell of burnt rubber filled her nostrils. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” she asked.

  Leopold shrugged. “Figured I could help.” He glanced around, noticed the black skid marks on the road. “Sorry about the mess.”

  Mary lowered her weapon, a weird sensation working its way up into her chest. Leopold just stood there, that same goofy grin plastered on his face.

  “You need a moment?” he said, breaking the silence.

  Mary forgot about where she was for a second, and allowed herself a smile. “You’re a total asshole, you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  The grin spread even wider. “I know.”

  Mary shook her head, failing miserably to keep the smile off her face. Definitely an asshole, she thought. But he sure knows how to make an entrance.

  Chapter 65

  LEOPOLD FOUGHT BACK his impatience as he waited for the RTCC analyst Walters, or whatever her name was, to come back on the line with some good news. He had given her a list of search parameters, and was now waiting for the results.

  Following their arrival, and after a few cursory introductions, Leopold, Jerome, and Kane had outlined their theories and borrowed Mary’s cell phone. Jerome and Kane had linked up with the nearby police team, and were helping search the area. The FBI agent, Marshall, was standing close by. He looked irritated.

  “You got something for me?” Leopold asked, as the RTCC analyst came back on the line.

  “I’ve run it through the system,” she said. “I cross referenced any locations that have a direct satellite link, an encrypted comms link, and are off the main grid.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Checking the five boroughs and Jersey City, there are ninety-three possibles.”

  Leopold sighed. “Okay, scratch off any locations that are registered to active US corporate entities or the government. You should be able to cross reference the addresses with the SEC database.”

  “One moment.”

  Leopold heard the click clack sound of typing.

  “Thirty-seven possibles.”

  “Now, remove any of those within one mile of the hot zones.”

  “Twelve possibles.”

  “Give me a minute,” said Leopold. Mary glanced at him. She still looked mad.

  She said, “What are you trying to find?”

  “Anyone trying to pull off something this big is going to need to be close by. Close, but out of harm’s way. I’m looking for buildings my father might be using to coordinate the attack. I’m down to six possibilities.”

  “What if he’s not using a building?” said Mary.

  “He’d need power, a satellite feed, comms link...”

  “And he’d also need a way to get out quickly. Maybe he’s mobile.”

  Leopold smiled. “Walton, you there?”

  “It’s Walters, sir,” she replied.

  “Any of those addresses look a little weird to you, Walters?”

  A pause. “Weird?”

  “Yeah. Anything stand out?”

  “Not really,” she said. “We’ve got a few commercial properties registered to a group of companies in the Bahamas, but it doesn’t look like any of them are in use.”

  “Okay, let’s start again. Go back to the ninety-three coordinates you found before.”

  “Done. What am I looking for?”

  “Are any of those targets moving? Or not tied down to a permanent address?”

  Another pause. “We’ve got six vessels registered to the Staten Island Ferry service, maybe a dozen cargo ships on the move, a few more docked up. Based on their tracking records, they all look legit.”

  “Anything on land?”

  “Negative.”

  Leopold felt his pulse quicken. He lowered the phone and looked back at Mary. “How difficult would it be to get in and out of the city on a ship?”

  Mary shrugged. “Not very. Assuming you had the right documentation, you could come and go pretty easily. The Coast Guard keeps an eye out for anything out of place, but it’s mostly a skeleton operation. There’s no official border checks this close to the mainland. Anyone with a landing permit is good for twelve months.”

  Leopold put the phone back to his ear. “Walters, any of those hits turn up near private harbors or marinas?”

  “Fifteen possibles,” said Walters. “New York Harbor area.”

  “Okay. Any of those private vessels?”

  “Three hits.”

  “Out of those three, any of them registered to foreign business entities?”

  “All three,” said Walters.

  “Where did they sail in from?”

  “Two domestic. The other arrived from Tokyo late last week. The vessel’s name is Thanatos. It’s currently moored up near Greenville Yard.”

  “Walters, you’re a genius.” Leopold grinned.

  “Uh, thank you.”

  He hung up. “We’ve got a possible hit,” he said, addressing Mary. “Private vessel came in
from Japan last week, moored up near Greenville Yard. It’s off the main power grid and it’s got all the comms equipment my father would need to pull this off.”

  “You’re sure?” Mary asked.

  “With a name like Thanatos, I’d be damn surprised if I was wrong. Safe to say my father has a taste for the dramatic. And the Greek personification of death is about as dramatic as it gets.”

  Mary glanced at Marshall, who hung back. He shrugged. “It’s your call.”

  “Get Director Ward on the phone,” she said, turning back to Leopold. “His number’s on the call history. We’ll need him to run point with the police commissioner and get us some tactical support.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got less than an hour before the lunch time crowds start clogging up the streets – and that location is thirty minutes away.”

  Leopold nodded and found Ward’s number. He dialed it. Ward picked up.

  “Jordan – you found anything?” he said.

  “Mary’s busy right now,” said Leopold.

  “Blake? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it later when you buy me dinner,” said Leopold, stalking off back toward the Suburban. “Right now, I need you to listen.”

  Chapter 66

  WARD STOOD WAITING for them in the RTCC control center when they arrived, ten minutes later. The room was stacked with computer monitors, the air conditioning cranked up to the maximum setting. Leopold felt the blast of cold air as he and the others stepped inside and made their way over to the conference room.

  Ward waved them through and told them to take a seat. He shut the door.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asked, looking at Kane.

  Leopold settled into one of the chairs, leaned both elbows on the desk. “This is Isabel Kane,” he said. “She’s with the CIA. Oh, and she really doesn’t like the FBI right now.”

  “You guys up to speed?” Ward didn’t sound surprised.

  “No thanks to the Bureau,” Kane said. “But I think I get the picture. Bad guy planning bad things.” She glanced at Leopold. “His fault.”

  “Not exactly,” said Mary, folding her arms. Leopold thought for a second she might be sticking up for him.