by Tom Barber
Chalky was currently visiting on a twelve day vacation from England. He’d arrived seventy two hours ago and Archer was putting him up at his place. Chalky had done all the Manhattan sightseeing and bar-hopping on previous visits, so was now getting to know Queens better; tonight, he’d come from the Museum of the Moving Image across Astoria, a small plastic bag holding a store-bought souvenir from the gift shop resting on the table beside his pint glass. He hadn’t been aware of what had happened to Issy at the fair until Archer had called him post-bed incident.
Once NYPD colleagues from the 114th Precinct had closed off the apartment, Archer filled them in on what had happened then joined Vargas and Isabel at the hospital where Issy had been taken to get thoroughly checked over. The cuts were superficial thanks to the speed of Archer’s reaction and after they were satisfied she was OK, he’d driven them back to his place, Vargas doing her best to settle the girl who was understandably traumatised by the night’s events; she’d ended up giving her a mild sedative the doctor had prescribed to help her sleep. In the meantime, Archer asked Chalky to step out to the bar with him, well out of earshot of Issy so he could fill him in with no details spared.
The bar had twenty or so other patrons, posters advertising some planned July 4th celebrations stuck on the walls around them. ‘She fall asleep yet?’ Archer asked on his cell, mouthing Vargas to Chalky who nodded.
‘Just now,’ Vargas replied quietly. ‘She’s exhausted.’ Pause. ‘She ended up sleeping in your bed.’
‘You take it with her. I’ll sleep in the guest room. Chalk’ll be on the couch.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I want to. We’ll be back in a few. Marquez said she’ll do the night shift.’
‘OK. Thanks, Sam.’
‘Of course.’ Archer put his phone away and leaned back, looking at his best friend. Chalky was already well aware of Isabel’s history and Archer’s involvement with it, so there was no need to go over the past.
There was enough to deal with in the present.
‘When was the last time Vargas and Issy were at home?’ Chalky asked.
‘This morning.’
‘Job on the bed like what you’ve just described would take time to set up.’
‘They’ve both been out all day.’ Archer glanced around the bar, at the people there. ‘And confirms what we feared. The knife throw wasn’t an accident or some act gone wrong. You should see the cut on her cheek. If she hadn’t turned her head…’
‘But why so elaborate?’ Chalky asked. ‘If someone wants to kill her, why not just try a drive-by shooting or something?’ He trailed off. ‘Is she holding up?’
‘On the outside? She seems to be. But after two new goes at her, back to back, within the space of a few hours? No-one knows what’s really going on in her head, after the things she’s seen. Her making it this far without having a complete mental breakdown shows how special that kid is.’
He sighed and picked up a beer mat, picking at the edge of it.
‘Her entire family were slaughtered and she was right there in the house when the bullets starting flying. Then she went through that hell in the building in Harlem. Only reason she’s alive is because Vargas and I somehow managed to get her through. And they still almost bagged us all.’
‘And now someone’s trying to bury a rack of knives in her.’ As Chalky spoke, someone put Bruce Springsteen on the jukebox, Born in the USA, which elicited a cheer from some drinkers down the bar. ‘Her family had a long-time feud with another in the mob scene, right? But they’re off the street now?’
Archer nodded. ‘The Devaneys. Irish versus Italian. They fought the Lombardis for control of lower Midtown Manhattan for years. But their organisation’s been more or less dissolved.’
‘Would other families put moves on the girl?’
‘That was a concern in the past. But our organised crime team guys have informants who told us a while back that’s unlikely. The extent of the attack on her family was rare. Most of the time, women and children are off limits, but eleven of them died at the villa that day.’
‘Someone wanting to obliterate the entire family.’
Archer nodded. ‘And guys on the street know the heat they’d be attracting if they tried anything. Issy’s the adopted daughter of an NYPD detective. They don’t want that kind of attention.’
‘Did her making the stand get to the news when she testified against the killers from the villa?’
‘No. Her ID was protected.’
‘But there were twelve jury members.’
‘Yeah. There were.’
‘So people gossip. They had to know who she was and heard her testimony. What if they talked about it to the wrong person? Or got tricked into revealing information? Someone in a bar wanting to know what finally closed that case or something.’
‘A possibility, I guess. But doesn’t feel likely. Whoever threw that knife has zero qualms about burying seven inches of razor sharp steel into a child’s face. Or impaling her on a bed of knives.’ Archer thought over the events of the past few hours; two attempts on the young girl’s life, out of nowhere. One avoided by sheer luck, the other because he’d happened to glance into her bedroom when she’d walked towards it and seen the unusual bulk under her mattress. ‘Like you said, why not just blast her in a drive-by or something? There are easier ways to kill an eleven year old.’
Chalky paused. ‘It feels like someone wants her to suffer.’
Cursing quietly, Archer nodded and pushed his beer away, Springsteen’s voice and guitar underscoring the muted conversations in the bar.
‘Happy holiday, mate.’
FOUR
The next morning, Isabel’s eyes opened to the sound of an air conditioner quietly rumbling, the cooled air circulating around the main bedroom in Archer’s apartment. Beside her in the bed, Vargas had her arm draped over her protectively, but Isabel could tell that she was asleep by her adoptive mother’s slow, rhythmic breathing.
Beyond them, the light filtering in from the cream-colored thin drapes in front of the window to her right was greyish-orange. With consciousness came pain, both physical and mental, as memories of the previous night came flooding back. Isabel’s arms and body were hurting from where the tips of the blades in her own bed had pierced her skin before Archer got her out, and the painkillers Vargas had given her before she lay down had worn off. Her cheek was sore and she still felt tired, even though she’d somehow managed to sleep through most of the night.
She eased Vargas’ arm off her and swung her legs over the bed, but then felt fur under her feet before they reached the ground. Archer’s dog, a black Labrador rescue called Diesel, was lying there, also fast asleep, but his head came up as she touched him; he rose and shook himself, then sneezed before looking at Issy expectantly. She glanced back at Vargas, who stirred but didn’t wake. Her adoptive mother had her NYPD pistol unloaded but close to hand along with its magazine on the bedside table. Issy knew never to touch it.
Diesel started pushing his nose into her leg, and she cupped his face before rubbing his flanks, the dog’s tail starting to wag back and forth. The door was open and she could see Archer in the room opposite; he was also asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, a fan rotating quietly beside him. Isabel went to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her so as not to wake anyone. Diesel followed her, waiting patiently on the other side.
When she crept back out, she realised the couch in the main room was empty, no sign of Sam’s friend from England. Vargas said he was a cop too, and Issy had liked him instantly. He talked like Archer and made her laugh; she’d immediately recognised him as someone she could trust.
Through the gaps in the thin drapes across the living room, she could see Manhattan’s buildings in the distance, the early-morning sun starting to lighten them. A noise came from the corridor outside, and she looked at the door, feeling scared, but then realised it was only the neighbor leaving their apartment.
It wasn’t yet 8am, but Ledger and Josh had been up for a couple of hours. Marquez and Shepherd had taken night duty, working alongside Nassau County on the carnival assault and the crime-scene team at Vargas’ apartment, all seasoned professionals yet all of them taken aback when they saw the horrific Venus flytrap that Isabel’s bed had been turned into. Ledger and Josh took over at sunrise while Shep and Lisa went home to get a few hours’ rest, the entire team determined to find out who was targeting their colleague’s adopted daughter. Their current casework could wait a few hours.
The two police detectives were currently in Manhattan, questioning a former soldier from the Devaney outfit. A CI had told them where the man liked to eat breakfast, and they’d picked him up at a diner on the west side just before he was about to tuck into some eggs, bacon and pancakes. ‘I’ve been co-operating with ya people,’ the Irishman snapped at the two detectives, once they’d got him into their car. He ripped his arm away from Ledger, who hustled him inside. ‘You get me attention, I’ll end up in a box. Whaddya want?’
‘Information,’ Josh told him. ‘Your Department contact messaged you last night about something.’
‘Yeah. So?’
‘Do your friends know about what he asked?’
‘That the Lombardi kid is still alive? Course we know that. But her dad was the asshole. We’re not interested in the girl.’
‘None of your friends would want to make a name for himself by taking her out?’ Ledger asked.
‘Nah, the Lombardis are old news.’ He looked at the detectives in turn. ‘Someone’s gone for her, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ Ledger replied. ‘We want to know who.’
‘Wasn’t us. Most of the boys are in prison, and the ones like me who ain’t? We got better shit to do then chase down the kids of dead mobsters.’
‘Can you find out if there’s word on the street?’ Ledger asked.
‘If there was, I woulda heard by now. You’re wasting time looking our way.’ He looked at Ledger and Josh. ‘You like the fights, detectives?’
Neither man replied, staring straight back at him. He took their silence that they understood what he meant.
‘Think of the kid’s father like a boxer. If he’s famous, he’s gonna have a big rival, or a couple of ‘em, right? But before he got to the top, he had to get through a load of other guys to get there. Come up through the regional circuit. We had good reason to hate that family, but it wasn’t just us. They made plenty other enemies.’
Ledger and Josh remained silent.
‘It’s a helluva long list. I suggest lookin’ at it.’
‘Sam, wake up!’
Having been in the middle of a bad dream, Archer jolted awake instantly and saw Vargas beside his bed, her hand on his arm shaking him. Her hair was messy and she was still in the clothes she’d slept in.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said. ‘What happened?’
‘Issy’s gone!’
Archer kicked himself off the bed, grabbed his Sig, and quickly checked the apartment, Diesel watching him and Vargas with confusion, sensing their distress.
‘Where did she go?’ Vargas asked desperately, getting her phone and immediately calling Isabel’s number for the phone she’d bought her in May.
They both heard it ringing, and realised the cell was still in the apartment.
The pair pulled on some clothes, holstered their weapons then ran out of the door and down the stairs.
When Issy’s family had been alive, one of the movies she and her youngest brother had watched regularly was Disney’s The Lion King. An early scene had always stuck in her head when the main character, Simba the lion cub, is standing with his father looking out over the savannah and asks him what a certain area is. He’s told it’s ‘the elephant graveyard’ and is warned never to go there.
A certain section of Manhattan where Midtown met Downtown had felt like that to Isabel these last three years. It was where her father and his organisation used to run their business dealings, and she’d sworn a promise to Vargas that she would never go to that part of the city without her.
She was about to break it. Having gotten onto the subway in Astoria, she held onto a pole, the train busy with people around her, most of them looking at cell phones or listening to music as they rode into work on this bright Monday morning. Her wounds were still hurting and she lifted her fingers to her cheek, touching the stitched cut which she’d noticed some people looking at curiously.
Nightmares after what had happened inside that building in Harlem occasionally bothered her, and she’d come to accept they’d always be a part of who she was, the same as hearing the gunfire and seeing the murder of her old family in her mind’s eye. But never had she dreamed about someone throwing knives at her or hiding them in her bed with the intention of killing her. I just want to be normal, she thought desperately, feeling tears prick at the edges of her eyes. But then another, more immediate danger presented itself.
As the train passed under the river towards Manhattan, she noticed a creepy-looking guy down the carriage studying her. He was dishevelled, and had a bag-wrapped beer can in his hand; Issy saw other commuters were giving him a wide berth. As she looked his way, they made eye contact. The man glanced at the adults immediately around her, then smiled, seeming to realise she was alone; Isabel immediately moved down the train away from him, easing her way through people. She’d be in a lot of trouble for taking off like this, but her plan was the only thing she could think of to put a stop to what was happening to her. She had to do something; the adults protecting her wouldn’t be there forever.
As she thought about yesterday’s events, Issy focused on the one positive that had come out of it; Vargas and Archer were being forced to interact closely again in protecting her. It was how they’d first met, falling for each other in the process, and Isabel wanted it to happen again, having been devastated when they’d split up. But right now, she felt scared. Very scared. This time, the threat to her felt different. From the moment she’d been rescued from the hamper at her family’s East Hampton home, she’d had some kind of police officer, detective or armed government agent with her at almost every moment she wasn’t in class or at an after-school club somewhere. It had taken three years growing up and seeing other kids in her grade to understand how unusual that was. Then again, life hadn’t exactly been normal before her family had been gunned down either.
She was still some stops away from her planned destination but when she looked back, saw through the crowd of passengers that the man drinking beer for breakfast was still staring at her. As they pulled into Lexington 59th, she made a decision to get off and wait for the next service.
When a wave of commuters left the train, she stepped out with them, trying to hide herself among the adults. But just as she headed down the platform for a new position to wait for the next train, a dirty, sweaty hand grabbed her arm and turned her around.
‘Where you goin’, little girl?’ the man asked. ‘Don’t want to say hi?’
Before Issy managed to pull her arm away, someone took hold of the man’s shoulder and spun him instead. The beer drinker saw a dark-haired man holding him.
‘Yo, get your hand-’ the man started, but before he could finish, Chalky unceremoniously hauled him back towards the train and bundled him through the doors just as they were closing. The guy stumbled, hitting the pole and dropping his Budweiser tallboy, then looked up in anger as the train left the station and headed downtown, taking the guy with it.
As the last of the passengers disappeared up the escalators and steps, Chalky looked down at Isabel, who was staring at him in surprise.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘Was going to ask you the same question,’ he replied.
*
‘How come you were up so early?’ Isabel asked five minutes later. She and Chalky were sitting on a bench in the subway station.
&nb
sp; ‘Know what jet lag is?’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’
‘Means my body clock’s a few hours ahead of yours. I woke up at 5am, and couldn’t get back to sleep.’ As they talked, the British cop’s eyes scanned the crowds flowing through the station as trains came and went. ‘You think whatever you’re doing is a good idea? I followed you easily enough. Whoever threw that knife last night could have too.’
‘What am I supposed to do? Spend the rest of my life locked away in the apartment?’
‘Might not be a bad idea, until we find out who did that to you,’ he said, looking at her cheek.
‘There’ll always be someone. It’s because of who I am.’ She looked at the ground. ‘Did they tell you to watch me?’
‘No. But you can bet your…..you can be sure they’ll be glad I did. Where were you going?’
‘Downtown,’ she said. ‘Can you leave me to do what I want to do?’
‘I think Vargas might be pretty angry if I did that.’ He paused. ‘Where downtown?’
‘My dad’s old neighborhood. Where he worked.’
‘And why do you want to go there?’
‘I thought if I could find someone he used to work with, tell them who I am, maybe I could find out who’s attacking me. Then I could help Vargas and Archer…’
Her voice trailed away as even to her ears, her idea now sounded a bit lame.
‘I just want to keep them safe,’ she told Chalky.
‘I like the sentiment. But let’s get a cab back,’ he said, rising off the seat and looking at the escalator exit. ‘If you really want to go down there, maybe Sam or Alice can go with you if they approve.’
Issy realised he wasn’t going to let her carry out her plan, which secretly now she wasn’t too sorry about, so she got to her feet and they headed towards the escalators, Chalky checking behind them as they went.
On the other side of the East River, Archer and Vargas were frantically checking the street, breakfast spots and coffee shops around his apartment and had just re-joined each other on 30th Avenue when Archer’s phone rang.