"I don't know, but at least he'll have to answer a few questions.
"For all I care, there's nothing to be said about that."
"For example, I'd like to know what he wanted with Linda Curtiz! Mr White explains that this had nothing to do with his service."
"Jesse, to all we know, she really died of an overdose."
"Maybe so. I think he was with her to get information."
"About who? You mean about Monty Gordon?"
"Since Linda Curtiz was Gordon's girlfriend, it makes sense."
"And Gordon would be Allison's next victim?"
"Why not, then? Milo, give me a reason to believe Allison's the perp in the four rope murders so far. He had the whole week off, he often appeared suspiciously where someone had perished. And to top it all off, he was trying to explain to us why there might soon be a victim on the side of the Spiders, whom we had previously suspected of being the perpetrators!"
"To be honest, I don't quite understand what you're saying, Jesse!"
"Well, it's obvious! Cole Davis was already dead, and Allison knew sooner or later the body would be found. "That's why he offered us an explanation to prevent us from looking for a personal motive."
"There's no proof of that."
I breathed deeply and nodded. "You're right. And I honestly hope in this case James Allison has reasonable explanations for all the things that make him look a little doubtful right now."
37
"The boys are here," Paco Moreno said to his cook. "You can take the rest of the day off, Zhedong."
"Thank you, sir. But what about dinner?"
"It will be later today - and I wouldn't want you to." Paco Moreno grabbed his belly and added: "Besides, it's better if I don't eat any more tonight."
"Whatever you say."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Zhedong."
"Yes, sir."
Juan Fuentes had his coat ready for him and he put it on. "The bulletproof vest fits pretty tight!", he complained. "Nothing fits anymore."
"It's essential to wear them," Fuentes made clear.
A broad-shouldered bodyguard entered the room. Under the jacket the handle of an automatic was briefly visible.
"Are you ready, sir?"
"Yes," nodded Moreno. He hit Fuentes on the shoulder. "Cheer up, we'll all sleep better tonight when we get rid of the problems!"
Zhedong waited until Moreno and his entourage had left the apartment. He had to clean up the kitchen and make some preparations for the morning.
After that he would leave the apartment and spend the rest of the day at home.
But before he went into the kitchen, he turned to the dressing room, where his coat also hung. Zhedong reached into the inside pocket and took out a mobile phone. It was turned down. When he was on duty, nothing should distract him from his job.
You have 8 messages in absentia', it said.
With the push of a button, he made the ad disappear. Then he dialed a number and held the device to his ear.
"Mr Allison? I'm sorry, I couldn't call before..."
38
Allison's home address was in Riverdale. He lived in a terraced house, which had to be paid off already, because he could not have afforded the installment of his salary at HELP.
I parked the sports car on the side of the road. We got out, went to the front door and rang the bell. No response. On the way we tried again several times to reach Allison via mobile phone.
In vain.
"His car's not here, so what do you expect, Jesse? "Allison is probably back somewhere in the South Bronx helping a poor soul."
"We could trace his cell phone."
As we were returning to the car, I picked up my cell phone. I had Max Carter on the line.
I gave him the number of the cell phone. This was a regular contract connection, i.e. not a prepaid device where you have to pay for your credit in advance.
We sat in the sports car and waited for Max to tell us where to go.
The surprise was big when he came back and told us that we were very close to the bearing signal.
"We are in the immediate vicinity of his house," I assured him.
"Then the device must be inside. At least his cell phone."
"Thanks, Max."
I broke the connection and looked at Milo. "Something might have happened to him."
"Or he hit the sack and turned his cell phone down, Jesse! Your hypothesis is already quite bold!"
"Yes, but it allows us to enter the apartment without a search warrant, Milo!"
We got out. To our repeated ringing nobody reacted again. The door lock looked quite massive and met modern safety standards. "Let's take a look at the back," I suggested.
We rang the doorbell of the neighbours, identified ourselves and crossed their townhouse, so that we reached the back. It was easy to get in via the balcony door.
With our service weapons out, we looked everywhere. But there were no signs of any violence. But there was a lot to be said for a very fast departure. In the kitchen there was a plate of spaghetti, half of which had been eaten empty.
The phone was on the kitchen table.
"He must have been in a real hurry," I said.
A pair of brass-framed cowboy boots were lying on the floor.
"Maybe he had something in front, and he needed comfortable shoes," I said.
We looked around the house. One room was like a shrine to Allison's son. A layer of dust had already settled on the furniture. It almost looked as if nothing had changed here since the overdose occurred.
There were newspaper clippings on the table about the case. They had been effectively lined up and reported on the death of the then only nineteen-year-old.
On the wall were pictures of men from the South Bronx. The names written on small signs underneath quickly put us on the right track. They were probably all well-known figures in the drug scene in the Bronx. Four faces were crossed out. The fourth one belonged to Cole Davis.
"Apparently, James Allison has a lot to do in his vendetta," I stated.
Milo nodded. "Unfortunately, we don't know who he's after now!"
"Maybe he'll just proceed in the order the pictures hang here." I pointed to a newspaper clipping showing a man standing in front of the courthouse, accompanied by several security forces. "Isn't that Paco Moreno?" I asked.
"If this is to be his next victim, he's got a lot on his mind."
I pointed to a photo that apparently had been taken from a car. Anyway, you could see the rear-view mirror on the side. It showed a man in front of the billiard club'The Trap', who was also someone we had only seen an outdated photo of, accessible via NYSIS.
"Monty Gordon!", I came out. "Now it makes sense he showed up at Linda Curtiz!"
"One to nothing to you, Jesse," Milo admitted. He took a deep breath. "Whatever one thinks of James Allison, he seems to be preparing very thoroughly for his actions."
"He was a cop, Milo," I thought.
39
We notified the field office of the new turn.
"This is going to be legally sensitive, Jesse," Mr McKee lectured me on the phone. "A border case, but I think the situation justified your intrusion into Allison's house."
"I just hope the lawyers agree," I replied. "But right now it's all about preventing the next murder."
"Anyway, Allison's going on the manhunt. "I'll send some colleagues to the Bronx to see you and wish you the best of luck, Jesse!"
"Thank you, sir! We'll be here a while to look for clues."
"All right, Jesse."
I broke the connection.
In the meantime, Milo took care of the digital telephone system. He had the answered calls shown on the display. Today it was only one. A call to Max Carter prompted our colleagues in the office to compare the numbers.
"The caller was a certain Hua Zhedong or Zhedong Hua, as you please. The Chinese usually name the family name first," Max reported. Milo had switched the playback of his mobile phone to loud, so that I
could also listen in. "I'll text you the address. He lives in Spanish Harlem."
"Can you find out anything about this Mr. Hua?" Milo asked.
"No problem. A NYSIS query refers to the entries for Mister Paco Moreno. Hua Zhedong is his cook."
"And probably a James Allison informant from his old DEA days!" I exclaimed.
Max agreed with me and continued: "There is a second Hua Zhedong here, but with a different date of birth. He'd only be 17 now, underage."
"The son?" Milo asked.
"Yes. But I have a three-year suspended sentence for assault."
40
We went to Hua Zhedong's address in Spanish Harlem. It was unusual for an immigrant from Asia to settle there. Most of them moved to Chinatown, which was constantly growing and melting Little Italy more and more together.
But considering that Hua Zhedong's employer Paco Moreno had his residence just a few streets away, this fact made Hua's decision understandable.
He lived on the tenth floor of a mid- to high-end apartment building. At least comprehensive safety electronics existed here.
"Trevellian, FBI," I said in the intercom and held my ID card in the camera at Hua's front door. "We really need to talk to you."
A little later we were opened.
A lean man in his mid-fifties at least faced us.
Next to him was a petite woman, perhaps ten years younger, who spoke Chinese all the time, which Hua Zhedong deliberately ignored.
"Come in," said the Chinaman.
"We don't have much time," I said after the door closed behind us. "You worked for James Allison as an informant when he was with the DEA. Is that correct?"
He hesitated to answer.
"If Mr Moreno..."
"He won't know anything."
"Good."
He looked at us. His wife seemed to trust us even less. We could not understand the slightest of her words, but her tone was internationally understandable and did not require any translation.
"Mr. Hua, you're in the middle of a murder case if you don't tell us what you wanted from James Allison."
"I don't think we should talk anymore without a lawyer."
"I believe Allison is responsible for four murders. If you don't want Paco Moreno to be the fifth, you should help arrest Allison."
Hua swallowed and sighed audibly afterwards.
"My wife is against me working with you," he confessed. "It's nothing but trouble."
"At least your son has enough problems. Did allison blackmail you?"
Hua didn't seem sure. He spoke briefly in Chinese with his wife before turning back to us. He nodded violently.
"Yes," he said.
"His name is Zhedong, just like yours. Somehow he's gone astray. "Did Allison perhaps withhold evidence so that the parole of Zhedong would not be revoked?"
The Chinese finally swallowed and nodded very violently. I hit the mark. "Tell us what you heard," Milo interfered.
"I only know of one meeting I want Monty Gordon to attend."
"When and where?"
"Do you know the premises of Patterson & Sons?"
"We'll find a way."
"There, Mr. Moreno wants to meet the leader of the Spiders to resolve the differences."
"And that's what you said to Allison?" I made sure.
"I called him about it, just like we agreed." He shrugged his shoulders "What was I supposed to do?"
41
On the premises of Patterson & Sons stood several medium-sized garages and halls. A car company used to be based here until bankruptcy proceedings were opened two years ago.
Two dark limousines drove onto the company premises.
Bodyguards got out of the first limousine and looked around. There were four men, two of whom wore Uzi-type MPis.
Finally, the leader of the group gave a sign to the occupants of the following car.
Shielded from his bodyguards, Big Paco Moreno got out.
At the same time, Monty Gordon and half a dozen of his Spiders emerged from one of the garages.
Both groups approached each other.
They stopped at a distance of a few meters.
"We're here to find a workable settlement," said Paco Moreno.
Before the Gang Leader could answer, the beam of a laser pointer suddenly danced through the air. Nearly silent shots whipped through the two groups. Monty Gordon grabbed his neck first, then his chest. A bullet was beaten through the heart during a turn from behind and exited the front again.
Paco Moreno was also hit by two bullets the next moment, a third hit the bodyguard in his hip as he wanted to stand in front of his boss.
Some of the other bodyguards shot back. An MPi rattles. Several members of the Spiders were already dead on the tarmac.
Paco Moreno's men apparently believed that this ambush was a gang member trap.
The shots were fired from the flat roof of a truck shed.
At the same moment sirens were heard. City Police and FBI vehicles rushed up and finally reached the Patterson & Sons premises.
42
I stopped the sports car. Milo ripped open the passenger door and jumped out with his service weapon in his fist. I followed his example. Everywhere the colleagues of our Field Office and the City Police have now taken up their positions.
There was still shooting. An MPi rattles off.
Clive and Orry fired warning shots. We did the same thing. A shadowy figure rose up on one of the hall roofs.
"There he is!" I said in Milo's direction.
A megaphone voice rang out. "This is the FBI! Drop your weapons!"
While our colleagues were busy calling the emergency service and arresting the survivors of the bosses' meeting, Milo and I spurred off to catch James Allison. This had meanwhile climbed over a fire ladder from the hall roof.
For a few moments we didn't have him in sight. Then the blood-red beam of a laser pointer suddenly danced through the area. This time Allison had used a rifle to ensure increased accuracy. When it was empty, he waited at the corner of the house and fired wildly in our direction. We had no choice but to take cover behind a half-leveled van.
We ducked behind the car as fast as we could. We emerged from it only briefly.
By the next minute, Allison was gone. We got ourselves together again and spurted off.
Then we finally reached one of the corners of the house. Carefully I felt my way out behind it.
Then I stepped out of the cover with my pistol in a two-handed attack.
"Freeze, Allison! Don't take another step!"
Until the next hall, where he could find cover, it was impossible to hide somewhere on this area.
He realized there was no point in just running away. He couldn't make it.
Slowly he turned around. His chest was rising and falling. He breathed quickly.
He still had his weapons in his hands.
"Drop your weapons," Milo shouted.
We got a little closer.
Finally, he lowered both the rifle and the pistol to the ground. It just didn't make sense anymore. Meanwhile, Josy O'Leary and Fred LaRocca had made a turn around the hall Allison had shot from.
They, too, approached with their guns at the ready.
Milo finally handcuffed him.
"Mr. Allison, you're under arrest. If you do not exercise your right to remain silent, anything you say from now on may be used against you in court later. But I assume you still know that very well."
Allison nodded.
In his eyes it flickered restlessly. He still didn't seem to understand what had happened.
"How did you know that..." He stopped talking. Instead, he swallowed as if he felt a thick lump in his throat.
"We paid a visit to the HELP therapy centre and found that you have been on holiday for a week. That was the beginning."
"It's so... weird that you arrest me, Agent Trevellian!"
"They've committed several murders."
"We're basically on the same side," he b
elieved.
But I shook my head firmly. "No," I made it very clear. "We're not. "They decided at some point to cross the line drawn by law."
"I had to do something," he muttered. "I owed it to my son."
"No one owes a murder to anyone," I contradicted him.
The handcuffs clicked, and we were able to take James Allison away.
43
After a few more ballistic tests, the pistol James Allison was carrying turned out to be the murder weapon used to kill the victims of the so-called 'Rope Series'. For the assassination of Big Paco Moreno and Monty Gordon, Allison had got himself a precision rifle. Outside the state of New York, this could be obtained with relatively little effort.
On the same day, Moreno and Gordon succumbed to their more serious gunshot wounds caused by Allison's ambush.
"Good work," Mr McKee said later. "What only annoys me is that men like Allison damage the reputation of the police in general."
"The main thing is that Allison's private crusade against the drug dealers is now over," I replied. "No one can take the law into their own hands."
"I strongly agree with you, Jesse," nodded Mr McKee.
END
Strangled! Page 9