“I think you're playing around in someone else’s sandbox, and I'm going to bring your world crashing down around you. You made it personal, and that was a mistake.”
Dewey wasn’t impressed with the threat. “Mr. Wood, I do not have your assistant. Jack didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Kupton’s death. He killed himself. I do think you might be able to help us, and I'm more than willing to return the favor and find Celine.”
***
Henry had misjudged the man on the other end of the phone. He was a cool customer who didn’t buy the bluff, but his denial wasn’t convincing, either. Henry looked at Bobby. The expression on his face told the tale. They didn’t have a choice. If the CIA didn’t have her, maybe it was the Russians. He didn’t like it but still said, “You know where my office is. You can pick up your bugs. How long will it take you to get here?”
“I would prefer to meet at my office...”
“Listen, you asked for my help. Bring the file you have been building on me. The whole file.”
***
“Mr. Wood…” Dewey stopped talking when he heard the line go dead. Well played, he thought to himself. He went out to the bullpen and got the file on Henry. He asked one of the analysts, “Anything good in here?”
“Not really, boss. The tails and surveillance team haven’t gotten us much.”
“You have copies of everything in here?”
“Yes.”
“Good, where is Gilbert?”
“I think he is in his office. He hasn’t slept in a while.”
Dewey nodded; he wasn’t sleeping much either. “Where is Jack?”
The other analysts looked at each other. One of them said, “He left a while ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“No idea; sorry.”
Dewey went and found Gilbert asleep on a stack of folders at his desk. “Time to go.”
CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN
Henry hung up the phone, turning towards the window. The voice of his old mentor Mickey echoed inside his head. “Always have a plan. Your life may depend upon it.” Henry wished it were that simple. He had a plan; they had just made one, but it didn’t include the CIA, or worse, the Russians taking Celine. The thoughts of what might be happening were almost paralyzing, but a voice broke through them.
“You think we should maybe try to get a hold of Big Mike?” Bobby said as he paced in the corner.
Henry didn’t hear him at first, or, if he did, it didn’t quite register. He looked down onto the street. It was wet, and the huddled people looked like evil messengers carrying news of the damned. Henry felt himself slipping into a useless despair when Bobby’s words broke through. “Yes, Bobby, that sounds like a plan.”
Henry picked up the phone and dialed the precinct. It rang once and he asked if Mike was still around. There was only the noise of the drunk and downtrodden for a while, guys yelling for them to settle down, and, finally, Mike’s voice.
“Henry, what’s going on?”
Henry’s voice faltered for a moment. “Mike...Mike, they took Celine.”
“Who?” Mike yelled with a controlled rage.
“I think it was the CIA, but…I honestly don’t know. Can you come to the office?”
“I’m on my way.”
Henry heard him yell something as he hung up but couldn’t make it out.
Bobby asked, “Is he coming?”
“Yes.”
“How long you think it will take for him to get here?”
“Not long.” Henry looked back out the window. He saw two men walking down the street towards his building. They were about two blocks off, but they walked with purpose and authority. Could they be his guys? They crossed over the street as a car pulled up and honked at them. The sound of the horn was muffled, but the two of them obviously knew the driver. They both stopped and waited for him to get out. The lights of the car went dark. Henry couldn’t see the face of the man who emerged from the car, but he shook the hands of both men.
It was raining and they wore long trench coats. All three stood and talked for a moment.
***
“I called in, and they said you were headed to meet with Mr. Wood,” Jack said.
Dewey shook Jack’s hand but kept his left hand in his pocket. Gilbert had an umbrella and didn’t bother. Dewey answered, “He called and said he wanted to meet. I’m glad you came.” Dewey thought about mentioning Henry’s claim that Jack had Celine but decided he wanted to wait.
Gilbert asked, “Where have you been?” He sounded annoyed.
“What? You need me to protect you from Oleg?” Jack shot back snidely.
Dewey started walking again, “We don’t have time for your squabbling. The detective wants to talk, and we need to hear what he has to say.”
Gilbert and Jack stared at each other, each refusing to blink. Jack smiled and waved his hand. “After you Gil?” and, after a pause, “I’ll watch your back.”
Gilbert caught up with Dewey while Jack lagged a few paces behind. They crossed the street; a cabbie honked as the car screamed past them. When they got to the door of the Flatiron Building, Jack held it open for Dewey and Gilbert to walk through.
The lobby was empty. Dewey and Gilbert had walked no more than five feet when Jack pulled out his revolver and shot Dewey in the back of the head. He waited a half second for Gilbert to turn around, then shot him in the forehead. The shots rang out through the empty lobby followed by the dull thuds of their bodies landing next to each other.
Jack wanted to head upstairs and get even, but there were other tasks that needed to be taken care of first. He was too well trained to let his personal feelings get in the way of his mission.
***
Henry had seen them cross the street and approach the front door. He didn’t recognize the first two men, but the guy in back was Jack. His heart began to pound. If Jack was with them, maybe he wasn’t the one who took Celine. But where was she? Could Celine be seeing someone else named Jack? It didn’t seem likely. He felt his stomach knot up.
It wouldn’t be long now
, he thought. Buttons stood up and hissed, then leapt off the desk and crawled under a chair like he was stalking a mouse.
Henry and Bobby looked at the cat but neither thought anything of it. The minutes seemed to stretch on forever. Both office doors were open, and Henry knew how long it took to walk up the stairs. Where were they?
Bobby was pacing again, “Where are they? I’ve got short legs, and I would be here by now. You think they are waiting for someone else?”
Henry took his revolver out of the drawer and checked it. He grabbed his coat and put it on, sliding the revolver into the coat pocket. “Something isn’t right, Bobby. I want you to stay here. Maybe they weren’t the guys. I don’t know, but it feels hinkey. Keep an eye out for Mike; he should be here soon. I’m going downstairs.”
Bobby just nodded.
Henry walked down the hall expecting the men to appear with each step. He reached the stairs, and still nothing. His heart was pounding, and he eased himself down the stairs and into the lobby. He stopped dead. He stood there watching the blood pool around the two bodies. The front door burst open and Henry thrust his hand into his pocket. It was Mike.
“Jesus Christ, Henry, what happened? Are you hit?” Mike said as he saw the bodies and Henry standing by the stairs. Two other patrol men came in behind Mike and drew their weapons.
“It wasn’t me. I just came down and found them.”
“You hear the shots?” Mike asked.
“No, I was upstairs with Bobby.”
Mike got down and looked at the bodies. “This one took it in the back of the head and the other right in the face. Only two shots; this was a pro.”
Mike told one of the patrolmen to call it in, then checked their pockets. He padded the jacket of Dewey and eased his coat open. Inside, against his body, was a thick manila folder. He didn’t remove it but lifted the ID from the inside coat pocket.
Henry stood over the bodies. “I was expecting someone from the CIA, and that’s why I called for back-up.”
“It looks like they should have been the ones calling.” He showed the badge to Henry and went to check the other body.
The horror of the bodies vanished. Henry looked around the lobby, half expecting someone to be hiding in the shadows. He knew who had killed the two men; it was one of their own, Agent Jack Abrahms.
Henry didn’t have a plan, but he knew one thing...Jack Abrahms did. It meant Henry was one step behind and he wasn't too happy about it.
CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
Mike had one of the officers secure the scene. “You said you saw them crossing the street?”
“Yep.” Henry was only barely listening.
What was the next move?
“Henry, why don’t we go upstairs, and you show me where they crossed.” Mike said.
Henry looked up and nodded. He didn’t want to say much while within ear shot of the others. They walked up to his office. Bobby stood by the phone. He looked concerned, “Hey, Mike, it's good to see you. What happened?"
Henry answered, “It looks like Jack popped the other two.”
Mike walked up to the window. “You said this Jack guy drove up and met the two CIA agents. Where was his car?”
Henry looked out the window and pointed to the spot, which was now filled by a different car.
“Did you see him leave the scene?”
“No, I didn’t.” Henry thought for a moment. “After they entered the building, Buttons meowed and crawled under the chair. I guess he heard the shots.”
Bobby said, “He is still there.” A paw shot out briefly, then zipped back. “Why would this Jack guy kill two of his own?”
Henry replied, “I think he is a Russian spy, though I can’t prove it.”
Mike and Bobby just shook their heads.
Henry continued, “After they entered the building, we turned our attention to the hallway and waited. When they didn’t show up, I went to check it out. Bobby stayed here.”
Mike was taking notes as the sound of approaching sirens grew. Mike looked up, “It’s going to get crazy around here. This is a federal case now, but before it gets out of hand, what is this about Celine?”
Henry brought Mike up to speed on Jack and what Carol had told him. Mike stated the obvious, “We may not have a lot of time.”
“I know. I can’t spend all night answering the same questions over and over.” The thought of losing so much time shook him out of his fog. “I’ve got to get out of here. You have my official statement, but I need to go.”
Mike was torn between loyalty to his friend and his duty, but he owed Henry and said, “I’ll go downstairs and tell them you’re in your office. You have another way out of the building?”
Henry hadn’t thought of an exit. Bobby became excited. “Follow me, I have a way out.”
“Lead the way.”
Bobby ran down the hall and into his office. Henry followed and stopped at the door, expecting him to come right back out. “This way…in here.”
Henry walked in and closed the door. The room was again filled with stacks of books, magazines, and such. He couldn’t see Bobby. The door to the back room was ajar, but Henry didn’t see a direct path. He made his way to the left, turning sideways to get past some boxes, then turned left between stacks of The New York Times. Henry heard the back office door close. Bobby stood there with a small bag and wearing a trench coat. He appeared at the end of the row and motioned for Henry to follow.
Henry rounded the corner of newspapers and saw Bobby restacking a pile of magazines. The pile was easily five feet tall and behind it was a small door, maybe four feet high.
“Someday you're going to have to explain to me what you do in here all day.”
Bobby opened the door. “The hallway is taller; don’t worry.”
Henry walked through the door. It was dark inside and smelled musty. He stepped in a few paces, feeling the walls. Bobby followed him, then locked the door with a strange, ornate key. He flipped a switch and the hallway lit up. The floor had a very old, red carpet runner. Henry looked down the long, thin hallway; it seemed to go further than what he expected. Bobby forced himself past Henry. It was a tight squeeze.
After they turned a corner, the hallway got even stranger. The next hall went to a small room with a spiral staircase descending down into blackness. Bobby said, “Don’t worry; at the bottom of the stairs is another light switch. Just don’t try to go too fast. Oh, and don’t worry about the creaking sounds. It’s relatively safe.”
As they circled down into darkness, Henry kept his hand on the rail and took measured steps. He could hear Bobby moving ahead of him, which was fine as Bobby knew where the lights were. Henry’s first thought was they needed to warn Lawrence, Charles, and Richard. He also worried about William but had no idea where he might be found. The next step would be to get in contact with Jack, but he wasn’t sure how. Then he realized that Jack was on the lam, too. When Mike asked about the murder, the CIA had been listening.
The lights came on, and Henry saw a brick passageway leading away from the staircase. “What is this place?”
“We don’t have time for a tour.” Bobby broke into a speedy waddle. After five minutes of turns and winding around, Henry was sure he wouldn’t be able to find his way back. Bobby stopped at a little alcove. He pulled a flashlight out of his bag and started rubbing his hand along the wall. He pushed and walked through an opening. Henry followed and couldn’t believe what he saw.