by Gerard Denza
-Of course. You better leave now while it's still dark outside. Don't forget your briefcase.
-Not likely.
Octavio put on his overcoat and hat.
-I'm off, Ricardo. Attend to those things that you must.
Montenegro practically shoved his friend through the doorway.
-Off with you and don't worry about me.
-Take care.
Montenegro closed the door and put the safety chain on. He was putting away the last cup into its holder when a loud knock on his door startled him.
Who in the world could that be at this hour? He went to the door still holding the dish cloth in his hand.
-Yes?
No response.
-Who is there? I know someone is there.
Montenegro was about to release the lock to get a look at who it was by keeping the safety chain in place. He didn't get the chance. The door was kicked open and two men in black suits came into the room.
-Who are you. What do you want from me?
The two men grabbed him by both arms and propelled him through the doorway and down the stairs. Montenegro tried calling out, but couldn't find his voice. A third man was opening the back door to a gray van.
Montenegro looked about in desperation. Why couldn't he scream?
From across the street came a woman's voice.
-What are you doing to that man? Stop it! Police! Police!
Montenegro found his voice.
-Go back inside! Run and lock your door.
He was picked up and thrown into the gray van. The door was slammed shut and one of his abductors stood over him. The other two men went to the front of the van, got in, and drove off.
When Edward and Yolanda drove up, they were met by a crowd of residents anxious to know what had happened to their neighbor, Ricardo Montenegro.
-I'd better find a parking space.
-What's going on, Edward?
-Let's find out.
Edward found a parking space right on the corner. He and Yolanda got out and ran to the crime scene. They were stopped by a police officer.
-Can't go any further, folks. Sorry.
-Edward Mendez, Officer. I'm here on official police business. This crime scene wouldn't involve a Mr. Ricardo Montenegro?
-Bulls-eye. From what precinct are you, pal?
-Manhattan's 86th . Lt. William Donovan's precinct. What happened here?
-Neighbor spotted your Mr. Montenegro being abducted.
Yolanda gasped.
-Oh, my God!
-When?
-Before daybreak. She spotted three men in black suits hauling Montenegro into a gray van.
Edward's blood went cold. Yolanda whispered in his ear.
-Edward, you mentioned something about a gray van on the ferry.
-Officer, I need to get up to Mr. Montenegro's apartment. It's urgent. You can escort us up if you like.
-Okay. My partner can handle the crowd. I've already taken down the woman's name and address. She's down at the station house right now. Let's go on up.
Police Officer, Morgan Andes, led the way up the one flight of stairs and into Ricardo Montenegro's apartment. Edward noted that the hallway was clean and had the faint smell of disinfectant. The stairs weren't carpeted and the floorboards were old and worn.
Officer Andes entered the apartment and beckoned Edward and Yolanda to follow him inside. They were greeted by a big, orange tabby cat.
Officer Andes smiled and went over to pet the big tabby.
-The resident house cat or so I'm told. All the neighbors look after him.
The big cat nuzzled the police officer and, then, jumped off the armchair and beat it upstairs to his owner's apartment.
Edward looked about the room not really knowing what he was looking for. He could see that Montenegro was a clean and methodical man; no dust anywhere and neat and ordered bookcases. He went over to one bookcase and took a look at the titles: mostly philosophy and occult books with a few crime novels thrown in.
The P. I. walked into the kitchen. It was clean and neat like the rest of the place. He opened the cupboard doors above the porcelain sink. The cups had just been washed. He took a look at the drain board next to the sink: two saucers were still wet.
-Mr. Montenegro had company and recently.
He went into the small bedroom and opened up the drawers to Montenegro's “captain's bed.” One drawer contained under clothes and nothing more. The middle drawer contained dress shirts, a couple of belts and folded slacks. The far right one held a journal, candles, incense and a small, metal box. Edward took out the box and opened it.
Yolanda who was looking over his shoulder asked.
-Edward, how much money is in there?
-A couple of grand, I'd say. I guess Mr. Montenegro didn't trust banks. I'm with him on that.
-What about the journal? Let's read it. We have to, you know.
He opened it up and turned to the last page.
-Oh, Edward? Want a peak at the ending?
He smiled and pointed to the date on the upper left hand side of the page.
-It's today's date, baby.
He read aloud:
“Yesterday, an old colleague came to visit and make demands. He's a murderer and wants me to conspire with him. I cannot have blood on my hands. But, how can I stop him? He knows that I cannot take a life...not even his. I must play the game. When he leaves, I will go straight to the police.”
Edward flipped through the rest of the journal, but all it contained was Montenegro's everyday routines. He put the journal back in its drawer and slammed it shut.
-He didn't mention his colleague's name.
-It has to be this Louis Octavio, no?
-I'm pretty damn sure it is, baby. I'd like to speak to that woman who witnessed Montenegro's abduction.
Officer Andes was standing in the bedroom doorway. The tall and athletic man knew who Edward Mendez was by reputation. He read about the P. I. in the papers. He admired him and wanted to be transferred to a Manhattan unit. He was working on that.
-I can help you with that. Like I said, she's down at the precinct making an official statement. You can tag along with me. It's not far.
At the St. George precinct house, Edward and Yolanda were introduced to Monica Briggs: a woman in her early forties who still had not quite composed herself. Her emotions were genuine and mostly for her kidnapped neighbor. She didn't mind repeating her story.
-That poor, nice man... Oh, Mr. Mendez, it was awful. I've never seen anything like it before in my life. They just dragged him to that van and threw him in like so much garbage. And, he being such a good neighbor...helping my son with his math and teaching him proper English. He was the one who found Mr. O, the orange tabby, and brought the poor thing to Mrs. Miller who took him in. We all chip in for Mr. O's food and litter. I'm trying not to cry!
Yolanda moved over to put her arm around Mrs. Briggs' shoulder.
-Mrs. Briggs? What did these men look like?
Mrs. Briggs wiped her eyes with the handkerchief that Yolanda offered her.
-They were dressed in black suits and wore black ties...all of them. They reminded me of a bunch of hoods...but different.
-How were they different?
-They walked like military men. I don't think they spoke a single word. Oh! And, they were wearing these strange sunglasses.
-Could you make out their faces, Mrs. Briggs.
-They were pale and thin lipped. They kind of looked alike.
-And, the van? Did you get a license plate number?
-I didn't even think to. I'm so sorry.
-That's all right. You've been helpful. Was there any lettering on the van?
-No. It was clean and shiny like it had just been to the car wash. And, it looked like a recent model. Oh, I wish my son Warren had seen it. He could tell you what year and make it was. But, it did look modern.
; -When Mr. Montenegro called out to you, did you go back inside?
-Oh, I did...almost. He sounded so desperate that I wanted to cross the street and help him. But, I was just too scared.
-You did the right thing, Mrs. Briggs. Those men would have probably killed you.
Yolanda looked hard at her boyfriend.
-Edward, don't say that.
-Oh, it's okay, Miss Estravades. I'm sure Mr. Mendez is right. But, why did they do it to such a nice man?
Edward shook his head and lit a cigarette.
-We've got to find that out, Mrs. Briggs. Just one last question.
-Sure.
-Had you ever seen this van before?
-Well, now that you mention it, I have.
-When?
-Twice before, as a matter of fact: yesterday and the day the sun disappeared. Who could forget that day.
-And, what about these three men?
-No. I never saw anyone get in or out of the van until this morning. Oh, I hope you find Mr. Montenegro. Such a nice man...
Edward nodded grimly and got up.
-Yes, Mrs. Briggs, I'm sure he was.
Lt. Donovan broke into Louis Octavio's apartment in the company of two police officers and a search warrant.
-Okay, boys, start searching the place. You know your job.
The two officers started pulling out dresser drawers and rifling through them with a surgeon's precision...and, when done, the drawer was removed and the bottom examined and “tapped” to make sure that nothing was hidden underneath. Books were taken off bookshelves one by one, opened and turned upside down. Binders were ripped open, taken apart and tossed to the floor.
Lt. Donovan was going through Octavio's desk drawers. What he found was unpaid bills, advertisements, and some rough sketches of buildings and tunnels: the latter two he pocketed. One more desk drawer to go through. It was filled with stationery that had a Sutton Place address on them.
-Holding on to memories of better days, I guess.
At the bottom of the drawer was a subway map. Donovan took it out and unfolded it. There were pencil marks at the bottom, but he couldn't decipher them.
-Must be some kind of code.
Then, he noticed blue circles drawn around individual subway stops...there were quite a few of them. Lt. Donovan drew a deep breath and stood up.
-Well, boys, almost done?
-Just the one closet and the kitchen.
-Okay, Mike, do what you have to. I'm gonna' make a couple of calls and leave a couple of dimes for Mr. Octavio. Bastard!
-Found something, Chief?
Mike was looking through the clothes closet.
-This character was a real dandy. Closet packed with clothes and good stuff, too. A little out of date, but you could still wear them. Maybe, he's coming back.
Lt. Donovan shook his head.
-Not a chance.
Seven
MARLENA LAKE and Susan Broder were on their way to visit Professor Moreland at his midtown office. Susan was driving down Lexington Ave and getting ready to make the turn off on to 57th St. Marlena asked Susan to borrow her compact.
-Just reach in my purse.
Marlena took out the compact, but didn't open it. She sniffed the air instead.
-What scent do you have on today, Susan? It's quite lovely.
-”Joy.”
-And, quite expensive. The turn-off is coming up. What a lovely morning: clear, crisp and cold.
-I'm glad it pleases you, mother. The traffic is really heavy.
-Rush hour spillover.
Marlena opened her daughter's compact, held it at eye level and looked in its mirror. Just as she thought! They were being followed by a gray van. She knew the full import of this intrusion.
-Susan? Listen and don't ask silly questions. Make a sharp right at the next corner.
-But-
-No “buts,” young lady. Then, another sharp right and head crosstown on 59th St. We're being followed.
-By whom? Not the police. And, I never ask silly questions.
-I wish it were the police. These people are dangerous and that, my dear, is an understatement.
Marlena opened her handbag and took out her gun. It was loaded and ready to use.
Susan made a sharp right turn on to 58th and pushed down on the accelerator.
-Good girl. Now, at the corner make another right. Hurry!
They were driving along Park Ave. and heading toward 59th.
-Make a left turn at 59th and head crosstown until you reach 5th Ave.
Susan did as she was told, knowing that her mother's instinct for danger was uncanny.
-When we reach 5th Ave., then what?
-Head straight for Professor Moreland's office.
The two women reached 5th Ave.
Marlena held up Susan's compact.
-It's all right. They've gone.
-We lost them?
-I doubt it.
-What was that all about?
-It was a warning.
-A warning against what?
-Interference. And, I have no intention of heeding that warning.
This didn't surprise Susan.
They reached Professor Moreland's. Susan found a parking space a half block away from the building. In a another few minutes, they were standing in front of Mary Riley who remembered all too well Marlena's last visit.
-Miss Lake, you may go in.
-Susan? I won't be long.
Miss Riley and Susan exchanged glances.
Marlena walked into Professor Moreland's office and sat down opposite his desk. She put her handbag on the floor.
-Miss Lake, how may I help you?
It took Marlena a few moments to collect her thoughts. The recent incident had rattled her more than she wanted to admit. What was she being warned against?
-Miss Lake?
-Oh! Forgive me, Professor. I'll come straight to the point. I want you to put my mind at ease regarding the Earth's orbit. I have other things on my mind and this distraction must be settled.
-What about the Earth's orbit, Miss Lake?
-Has it stabilized?
-I can't answer that with one hundred percent certainty. The Earth's orbit may drift further away from its original elliptical orbit, but...
-Go on. Finish what you were saying, Professor.
-It is in correction.
-You don't sound too sure about that.
-In my opinion, Miss Lake, we've nothing to worry about. The planet has nearly settled in, so to speak.
-But, the Earth is moving in a vacuum. If its orbit was shifted by the sun's disappearance last year, what's to slow it down much less stop it?
Professor Moreland looked at this astute, if somewhat arrogant visitor.
-Gravity, Miss Lake. Not the Earth's gravity, of course – although that may also play a key part, but the sun's gravitational pull balanced by the moon and the Earth's neighboring planets.
-Interesting and rather complex, I dare say.
-Miss Lake, put your mind at ease. The Earth's orbit was shifted by a fraction. It's sturdier and more resilient than you might think.
-And, now Professor for my next question. What do you know of these gray vans?
Professor Moreland picked up a pencil and pointed it at Marlena.
-What do you know about them? I won't pretend that I don't know what you're talking about.
-Good. We speak the same language.
-You look upset, Miss Lake. Have you been followed? If you have, you should be upset. I would be.
Marlena was beginning to like this Professor Moreland.
-Yes. On my way here, I spotted one of them tailing us. I don't flatter myself that we dodged it. It let us go. It was a warning. I'm certain of it.
-Are you in possession of knowledge, Miss Lake, that you shouldn't be?
Marlena couldn't help but look away.
-I
am in possession of a great deal and variety of knowledge. Professor?
-Yes, Miss Lake?
-Are you up on your current events?
-I listen to the morning news. Are you referring to the Diamond District murders?
She smiled and pointed her finger at him.
-We do speak the same language.
-The entire area was cordoned off...or would “quarantined” be a better word, Miss Lake?
-Far better and more accurate.
Marlena and Professor Moreland were startled by a woman's scream. It was Mary Riley. Before either one of them could react, they heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Susan burst into the office.
-Mother! Professor Moreland! I'm so sorry to just barge in like this. It was just came over the radio.
-What in the world is it, Susan.
-An explosion in the subway tunnel on the BMT line in Brooklyn. It said-
Susan tried catching her breath.
-It said the explosion took place on the Manhattan bound LL train.
Professor Moreland stood up.
-Miss Broder, were there any survivors? Please, say there were, girl!
Eight
LOUIS OCTAVIO was struggling to control his fear and his nerve. He had a job to do that morning. He turned up his coat collar to keep out the brisk, December wind. He was headed uptown to 14th St. to catch the LL train that would take him to the last stop in Brooklyn. It was just past five-thirty and there were only a few commuters keeping him company.
When Octavio reached 14th St., the train was in the station and about to pull out. He made a run for it and got inside just as the doors closed.
-You just made it, man.
This startled Octavio.
-I did at that.
He didn't want to be unsociable and call attention to himself. Not now. The risk was too great.
The train pulled out of the station.
-You got the crown jewels in there?
-Not quite, young man. Just some legal papers.
-You an insurance salesman or something?
-No. A stock broker.
-How come you heading into Brooklyn?
This young upstart was asking too many questions. Octavio reversed the role playing.
-On your way to school, young man?