A very serious sounding voice said, “I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but…” The hesitation in the voice sent a chill down Amy’s spine.
“What is it?” Amy asked in a panic.
“My name is Officer Robert Grove, and I have some bad news about your boss.” He paused again, not having ever made one of these calls. It was his fifth week on the job, and he was first to the scene. “He has been killed.”
Amy was relieved.
After losing Daniel who was like a father to her, she couldn’t take another death of someone close to her. Matthew Kerwin was not such a person. In the short time she had worked for him, she had realized he was a cold-hearted man. He rarely greeted her in the morning and seemed to have little understanding of common courtesies. She had disliked him from the moment he took over. In the last couple of weeks she had wondered if he was up to no good.
He had started to lock his office door every time he left, which seemed peculiar to Amy.
What could he be hiding?
She had started to suspect that he had been involved in Daniel’s death. It seemed unlikely as he had been the second in charge for many years, but she didn’t really know him then. Now he just seemed ruthless.
The long silence made Officer Grove uncomfortable. “We got your number from his home office. I realize it’s late, but we wanted to see if you could come down to the precinct first thing in the morning.”
Amy didn’t want to sound crass, so she gave a heavy sigh, “This is just terrible. Do you know who did it?”
“We have a description of the two men who were here tonight from his housekeeper who had shown them in. We were wondering if you might know if he had any scheduled appointments for this evening.”
“When I left the office at 5:00 p.m., he had already left for the day. If he had any appointments, they weren’t on the calendar.”
There was a brief pause and Officer Grove asked, “Do you mind coming down in the morning?”
“Of course not. I'll be there first thing.” Amy considered acting a little hysterical, but she was too tired.
Office Grove thanked her and hung up the phone.
Amy went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. She started to think about the people he had met with over the last week. There were quite a few new faces, and she couldn’t remember the names. She would need to swing by the office and get his calendar and appointment book. Standing in the bathroom, the silence of her apartment and the shock of the news brought dark and scary thoughts. A tinge of fright was settling in now. Her bare feet padded along the floor as she went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Sleep was impossible now.
CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN
They both pulled into the parking lot of a small bar near the plant. Jack moved the seat back a couple of inches, adjusted the mirrors, and left the keys on the seat. Pytor lit a cigarette and waited. Jack looked around to make sure nobody was watching as he abandoned the stolen car and got in with Pytor.
Pytor had secured plenty of security badges for his men and gave one to Jack. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove up to the gate. The drowsy guard in the box barely looked at the IDs and waved them through.
They pulled around to the shipping docks, and two men in dark jackets flinched. They drew their weapons. Pytor gave a long-short-long flash of his headlights, and they stood down. Pytor was going to miss his car, he thought, as he shut the door.
Jack let Pytor lead and make the introductions. It was a brief meeting as everything was proceeding as planned. Pytor and Jack went back and sat on the hood of his car. Pytor held out his pack of cigarettes and said, “It was a good call.”
Jack took one, lit it, and pinched it between his fingers. “The Americans…” he paused. Having been among them for so long, it was good to say the word with contempt again. “The Americans don’t know a damn thing about making smokes. When I was a kid in Moscow, we used to steal Turkish cigarettes from my buddy’s father. Those were good smokes. And yes, it was the right decision.”
“The parts are good to have, but the reports and formulas are what is important. What do you think the Navy will do after they hear of Matthew’s unfortunate demise?”
Jack blew out the smoke and shrugged. “They will probably cancel the contract and never take delivery. It is too bad.”
“Yes, it would have set their sub program back a year or two when they realized their new super parts and gauges were mostly defective.”
“Don’t feel too bad, comrade, it was still a fine idea to switch out the defective parts for the good ones. What will you do when we get back home?”
Pytor had thought of nothing else all day. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he just shrugged.
“I think I'll spend my days just talking with anyone who will listen. Hours and hours of speaking with Russians in Russian about Russia. I can’t wait. Then I will drink.”
Pytor laughed. “We had better get moving.”
They both got in the car and drove off just as the doors to the loading dock bays were being closed. The trucks would head to their contacts at the docks while they went to Matthew’s office.
Once at the office Pytor retrieved the thick file folder of reports, specifications, and testing data. Jack held out his hand. Pytor gave him the file, then joked, “You think you can read this scientific stuff?”
Jack sneered, “I can read it well enough. Don’t you worry about it.” He was getting tired and knew they had much to do before the sun came up. He didn’t appreciate the comment. Jack brushed past Pytor and left without another word. His mind returned to Celine and his plans for her. The memory of the ribbing he received from Gilbert was still burning him despite having just shot him in the face. He wished he had been able to torture the bastard for a while first.
Pytor let it go, not really sure if he outranked Jack or not. Pytor made a mental note to find out as soon as they were home. He was not used to disrespect, and it left a bad taste in his mouth, but not so much as to make an issue right now.
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT
Henry picked up the phone expecting it would be Jack. “Hello.”
“Did you get my note?”
Henry didn’t recognize the voice. The caller sounded shaky. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
“It’s William. I couldn’t wait around all day for you to show up.”
Something about William's attitude touched a nerve. “Wait around all day? I don’t have time for you. What do you want?”
William, in a phone booth, was filthy after days on the street and barely recognizable to anyone who had known him. The cocksure stock broker had been beaten down by fear. Still, he wasn’t used to being talked to this way. He found his voice and said, “Mr. Wood, I saw the guy who shot those two other guys in your building. I know where he went after he left. Maybe that is something worth your time?” He said with a sneer in his voice.
Henry still didn’t like the guy, but he was his only lead. Henry apologized, “I’m sorry…William, is it? Where did he go?”
It was a rush berating a new broker and breaking his spirit. William sensed his old self returning. “That’s better. I followed him after he left the bar, and he went to…You have a piece of paper?”
“Go ahead.”
William was in a booth a hundred yards from the building he had been watching. He hadn’t figured out the address before calling. His bravado slipped away. “Just a second…” William sheepishly admitted he couldn’t see the address.
This was trying Henry’s patience. “Just tell me where you're at?”
William described the corner. A car rolled past, and it made him nervous again. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
Henry could tell he was losing William. His pulse quickened. “Stay with me, William. Is he alone?”
“He isn’t there anymore.”
Henry wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. “William, it isn’t safe for you on the street. I have a place; nobody knows about it. Can you wait there while I send someone to bring you in?” Henry was shooting from the hip. Lawrence could go find William and bring him back. Then Henry could find out what he knew.
William just wanted to hang up the phone and disappear into the shadows. He almost did just that, but the voice in his head said it was his best chance of surviving. “I’ll come to you.”
Henry thought about it for a second and realized that would be much better. He didn’t really want to leave the phone in case Jack called. “Okay, just a second…” Henry put his mouth over the phone and looked at Bobby. “He wants to come to us.”
Bobby said, “Tell him to go to the corner of East 20th and 5th Avenue, the north side. I’ll meet him there.”
Henry said, “William, I’m sending my friend to meet you at E 20th and 5th Avenue. His name is Bobby.”
“You got any food at this place?”
Henry still wanted to strangle him but was worried he might disappear again. “You go meet Bobby. He’ll bring you here, to me, where it's safe, and we’ll find you something to eat. Okay?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Henry hung up the phone.
“He says he knows where Jack went after the shooting, but he’s gone now. Lawrence, you go with Bobby. Here’s a twenty; I think there is a 24-hour deli across the street.”
Bobby loved being part of the gang. “There is! It is great; I go there all the time and…”
Henry interrupted, “Great, pick up something and bring it back with you. I'm going to stay here and watch the phone.”
After they were gone, Henry started to pace. Why hadn’t Jack called? Henry knew his type. Jack was a man who didn’t like to lose. Henry had embarrassed him pretty well. It made sense he would want revenge, to get back his pride. It was the only motive that made sense. Celine wasn’t of any value otherwise.
Henry played it out in his head. He imagined the call, how he would react and what he would say. If anything happened to Celine, it would be his fault. The call had given him hope, albeit slight.
CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE
Mike was feeling anxious. He hadn't had a chance to read the note, and he knew it was important. He needed to get away from the crowd to someplace quiet. He went back inside and called to the rookie standing by the bodies. "Follow me, patrolman."
He looked relieved to have something to do. It was late, and his shift had ended hours ago. "Yes, sir."
When they got to Henry's office, Mike showed him inside and recounted the story Henry had given him. "You understand that Henry Wood is our prime suspect right now. He is also a close personal friend."
The patrolman nodded, not sure why he was there but happy to hear the details.
Mike continued, "Close friend or not, if he is guilty, I'm sworn to uphold the law. Sorry, what's your name?"
"Patrolman Josh Hopkins, sir," he said, not remembering if any detective had ever asked him his name.
"You can see where one of those bastard lawyers could use our friendship in court?"
"Yes, sir."
"Call me Mike."
"Sure thing, Mike."
Mike was laying it on pretty thick to seal the deal. "I want you to look around the office and see if there is anything you notice that is different from what I told you or that I missed."
Josh couldn't believe it. A detective asking his opinion was unheard of; usually, they just wanted coffee. He wanted to run downstairs and tell his buddies, but he put on his game face. "Sure thing, Mike." He walked around Celine's desk and stepped on Button's tail. A black fur ball shot out from under the desk. "Sorry, cat, I didn't see you there." As he said it, he heard himself talking to a cat in front of the detective and could imagine how silly he looked. His face started to shift to a hue of red generally found on caps in Cincinnati.
Mike smiled and said, "His name is Buttons; he is a good cat. I'm confident he'll forgive you."
Josh felt better and reached down and ran his hand across Buttons’ back. Buttons purred; apology accepted. Josh went back to inspecting the office. He looked behind the painting of the White House and found the wires. "Look at this, detective."
Mike was impressed. Henry had mentioned the bugs, but they hadn't found this one. "Good find, detective...er patrolman." Mike was good.
Josh could barely contain his smile and turned away. He walked into the back office and looked out the window. "The street lights are pretty bright, and it's easy to see someone crossing. His story seems plausible."
"I agree, but again, I'm biased. I want you to write up a report detailing your findings and observations. Can you do that for me?"
Josh would have run through fire for Mike at this point and said, "Sure thing, Mike."
"Josh, what do you think? We should probably get the photographer up here to get a few shots, especially the bug you found."
Mike had a deft touch. Josh said, "I think we should. I'll go get him." He literally bolted down the hall. Mike took out the note from Henry.
We are in the basement, sort of. I'll explain later. Bobby got my phone line switched down here to his secret lair.