Fear City

  Cristin hadn’t scratched DAMATO into her skin for nothing. She must have known she was a goner. Jack groaned at the thought of the terror, the helplessness, the hopelessness she must have felt toward the end. She’d wanted to leave a message that would help find her killers.

  Well, Jack had found them. Or rather they’d found Jack. But who had sicced them on her?

  Arabs … had to be Arabs. Reggie was linked to them, D’Amato was linked to them too, though in a negative way.

  Jack would never know the answer if he killed Reggie now—now being the operative word.

  He realized he had no idea what to do next. He was standing in a garage in Bushwick with three corpses and a speechless man that he needed to interrogate. Except he didn’t know how to interrogate anyone. One wrong move and he could kill Reggie.

  Not yet … not yet …

  He couldn’t afford to flub this. He had one source, one opportunity to answer the big question. This was too important to trust to his own inexperienced hands.

  Call someone. Simple enough: When you’re out of your depth, get advice. Well, he was sure as shit out of his depth. But who to call? Bertel? Yeah, he had a feeling Dane Bertel would know what to do, but he was out tailing his Mohammedans around Jersey City and Jack wouldn’t be able to reach him until tonight. And would Bertel be all that interested? This might have some link to the jihadists, or just as easily might not. Bertel had no personal stake in this.

  But Jack knew someone who did. Someone who carried a phone with him everywhere. Someone he was quite sure knew all the fine points of interrogating a person who might not want to talk.

  He looked around. Rico had to have a phone here somewhere.…

  8

  Exactly ten minutes after Dane had parked—thirty minutes after he’d lost them—the Taurus with Kadir and the new Mohammedan passed by on its way back down from the Heights. He didn’t see anyone new in the car, or anything visible in the rear seat.

  He followed, expecting them to turn on Newark, retracing the way they’d come here, but instead they stayed on Summit all the way to Montgomery. Right on that and back to Kennedy. Kennedy south to Communipaw …

  “Okay, I know where you’re headed.”

  He eased back and let them get farther ahead. They’d be turning onto Mallory and heading for that storage area, the Space Station.

  Sure enough, the Taurus turned in there. Question was: Where were the rest of them?

  Twenty minutes later the Taurus reemerged with Ramzi Yousef in the rear. A chance then that Abouhalima and the other unknown Mohammedan were still there, but far from definite. His best bet was to chase the Taurus. But as he put his Plymouth in gear, he saw the Chevy Nova easing up the Space Station driveway from the rear. It parked maybe twenty feet from the sliding gate. Redheaded Abouhalima stepped out from the passenger seat and trotted through the rain to the gate. He stared along Mallory Avenue, not in the direction the Taurus had gone but the way it had come, then trotted back.

  They were expecting someone.

  Something … a feeling that pieces were poised to fall into place made Dane take his car out of gear and wait a little more.

  9

  “Jesus cunting Christ!” Burkes said as he surveyed the carnage. “It’s like William Tell meets Sweeney Todd!”

  “Hey, watch it,” Jack said. “That little girl was very dear to me.”

  He looked at Jack and must have seen the truth of that in his face, because he held up his hand, palm out, and said, “Easy, lad. I meant no disrespect to your fallen.”

  After his call to Burkes—telling him the address and obliquely conveying that he’d encountered two people who’d been involved with their mutual friend—Jack had found a couple of dropcloths to cover Bonita and Rico. But the way the arrows stuck up under the cloths disturbed him, so he’d cut off the shafts just above the skin. Not an easy task because they were made of some kind of composite over an aluminum core. Took a hacksaw to get the job done.

  He’d left Brajko Klarić where he’d fallen.

  Jack had cooled by the time Burkes arrived with his two bodyguards or whatever they were, all three wrapped in hooded rain parkas. Without a word they’d fanned out through the garage, taking it all in.

  Burkes pointed to Rico’s draped form. “Another friend?”

  Jack nodded.

  Burkes wandered over to where Brajko Klarić sprawled with the three arrow shafts jutting toward the ceiling from the eyes and mouth of his blood-coated face.

  “And this, I take it, was not a friend.” He showed Jack a tight, grim smile. “Had a wee bit of a temper tantrum, did we?”

  “Yeah. A wee. His license says his name is Brajko Klarić.”

  “Sounds Croatian. Anything else?”

  Jack handed him the semiautomatic. “He was carrying this.”

  Burkes turned it over in his hands. “Piece of crap Tokarev. Goes with the name. And what’s his part in our drama?”

  Jack hadn’t mentioned the fob when he’d called. He pulled out Klarić’s keys and handed them over.

  “I found this in his pocket.”

  Burkes gave him a questioning look as he took the keys. He turned the fob over. He dropped the Tokarev as he stared. Then he looked up at Jack, his lips working but making no sound.

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  The unspeakable was … unspeakable.

  Burkes averted his eyes as he handed back the keys. “Here. It’s giving me the boak.”

  He took a couple of deep breaths, then kicked Klarić’s body so hard it came off the ground.

  “Cunt!”

  A few more deep breaths, then he approached Reggie. Rico had had plenty of duct tape around, so Jack had virtually mummied his torso into a chair. He looked pale and weak and sweaty and frightened and miserable. Perfect.

  “And who’s this minger?”

  “He’s the Reggie I told you about—owner of the bow and the arrows. He’s the guy who used Cristin as a target.”

  More deep breaths, then, “I’ll get no closer. We need him in one piece.” He turned to Jack. “So there were two of them?”

  “At least. Maybe more. We need to find out.”

  “Aye. That we do.” He gestured around at the carnage. “How’d you manage all this? How’d it all come about?”

  Jack hadn’t wanted to risk telling him on the phone so he gave him a quick rundown.

  “But how’d they know you’d be here?”

  Jack had been thinking about that. “They had to have followed me from Jersey City.”

  “Why on earth would they want to follow you?”

  “The archer here and I have a history. But I think here’s where the Arab connection comes in.”

  “That again.”

  “Listen: I was watching the Jersey City mosque with that fellow I mentioned.”

  Burkes frowned. “Bertel, was it?”

  He’d heard the name only once but could call it up right away. Yeah, right, he’d never heard of him.

  “Right. We saw that al-Thani guy I asked you about pull up, hand over what we assumed was a wad of cash, and take off. I followed him. They must have followed me from there.”

  “And you didn’t notice?”

  “I was following al-Thani. Never dreamed anyone would be following me.”

  He felt like a jerk. If only he’d been on guard, Bonita and Rico might still be alive.

  “What’s done is done. The important thing is we’ve got this one. Rob and Gerald will find out who else was with him during Cristin’s torture, and who put him up to it.”

  “We need to find out everything he knows. And I mean, everything.”

  Burkes took his arm and led him away. “There’s no ‘we’ when it comes to this type of interrogation.”

  “Bullshit!” Jack yanked his arm free. “You wouldn’t have anyone to interrogate at all if it wasn’t for me.”

  “I know that, laddie. And I appreciate how you feel. I know how I feel, and you were
much, much closer to her. But what’s about to happen isn’t for you.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Can you just trust me on this? Much as you hate that lump of scum and want him hurt and want him dead, you’re only twenty-four—”

  “What’s that got to do—?”

  “You’re young. There’s deeds you can’t undo, sights you can’t unsee, sounds you can’t unhear. There’s a line, laddie, and it changes you if you cross it. And once you cross it, there’s nae going back.”

  Jack looked into his eyes and knew Burkes had crossed that line—a number of times.

  “Isn’t that my decision?”

  “Eventually, yes. Some day you may cross that line and wind up doing and seeing and hearing those things, but it won’t be on my watch.”

  Jack backed up a step and set his feet. “If you think you’re gonna kick me out—”

  Burkes was shaking his head. “Not me.” He pointed to Rob and Gerald. “Those lads are SAS. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but they’re two of the toughest sons of bitches you’ll never want to meet. If I tell them to get you out of here, you’ll be out of here. But I don’t want it to come to that. Take some avuncular advice and go sit in your car till we signal you to come back in. You can be privy to all the intelligence we reap from this little cunt, you just can’t witness the means we’ll have to use to harvest it.”

  Jack looked at Rob and Gerald, who were hovering around Reggie, then at Burkes’s determined face. He was outmanned.

  “Shit. Okay.”

  “There’s a good lad—”

  “And stop calling me ‘lad.’”

  Without looking at Burkes or the SAS men, he walked out of the garage and headed for the pickup.

  10

  Every time Dane thought he’d made a mistake by waiting here, Abouhalima would get out of the Nova and look up the street, and Dane would decide to wait a little longer. Might be important to know who they expected.

  The rain tapered off but still no sign of anyone entering or leaving the Space Station. And then, finally, a panel truck with CITY CHEMICAL emblazoned on its flanks turned in and stopped at the gate. Abouhalima ran out and punched in the code. The gate opened and the truck followed the Nova. Both disappeared around the back.

  City Chemical? He’d never heard of it, but the word chemical set off all sorts of alarms. Was that where they’d gone when he lost them? What in blazes…?

  The more Dane thought about it, the less he liked it.

  11

  Jack had barely settled into the cab of the pickup when he saw Rob waving to him from the garage.

  Already?

  Burkes met him inside the door.

  “Looks like all our interpersonal drama of a few moments ago was for nothing. Gerald didn’t do anything but ask him who hired him to kill the girl and we couldn’t shut him up.”

  “He can talk now?”

  “Well, not so’s you can hear him or understand him very well. We had him write it down.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Who?”

  “The guy you were following today: Nasser al-Thani.”

  Jack went cold. He’d been within a dozen feet of the man yesterday.

  “I know where he lives.”

  “Good. That’s a start.”

  “What else he say?”

  “Al-Thani instructed them—and they were the only two involved—to find out if she’d overheard anything about Senator D’Amato.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, that and then kill her.”

  Jack swayed. The dark was coming again. He pushed it back.

  “Where was she supposed to have heard this?”

  “He says he doesn’t know.”

  “Why was it of interest to al-Thani?”

  “He says he doesn’t know.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yes. He’s scum. He’s got no loyalty. Gave up al-Thani immediately. I don’t think he was told any more than he needed to know. Really, would you tell an insect like that any more than you absolutely had to?”

  “No way.”

  “Exactly. We have a place where we can hold him. We’ll keep him until we have al-Thani in hand.”

  “Why?”

  “In case we need clarification on anything.” He patted Jack’s shoulder. “Looks like you were right about the Arab connection.”

  “You think they’re planning to assassinate D’Amato?”

  “Why not? It’s the way they deal with people they disagree with. Believe me, after too many run-ins with Provisionals and INLA nutters, I know their type. Violence is both a means and an end.”

  “But there’s no Arab connection to Cristin.”

  “There is. There has to be. We simply don’t know it … yet. Once we have al-Thani, we’ll have our answers. Then we’ll move up the line and Reggie will become immediately expendable. But first we’ve got to clean up here.”

  Jack pointed to Brajko Klarić. “What do we do with him?”

  “He’s the least of our problems. Rob and Gerald know a fire pit up in Ulster County where he will be reduced to ashes. And just to make your police crazy, I’ll have them cut off his hands.”

  Jack nodded toward the two SAS men who were hovering over Reggie. “What’s their connection to you? They work for you or the embassy?”

  “Mission. The embassy’s something altogether different. Officially they work for the mission but we go back a long ways, all the way to the Grand Hotel bombing in Brighton.”

  Jack had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded like he did.

  “They’re loyal to the crown first, but we’re also loyal to each other. They know this is important to me and so they’ll do what’s necessary.” He pointed to Bonita’s and Rico’s sheet-covered forms. “But what do we do about the child and your friend?”

  Jack felt his throat tighten. Bonita … a couple of years ago Reggie had wanted to drown her and the other girls so they couldn’t testify against anyone. Jack had helped save her then, only to lead Reggie right back to her today.

  What kind of world allowed that to happen? Who was in charge?

  Obviously no one.

  Jack’s brain was numb. “We can’t leave them to rot here.”

  “No family?”

  Jack shook his head. “Their father’s dead and their stepmother … well, she sold Bonita to some slavers.”

  Burkes winced. “Where are they from?”

  “Dominican Republic.”

  “I know people at the DR mission. What we’ll do is this: We’ll wipe this place down and move the Croat out for burning. Then we’ll phone the police about this place. The coroner will cart the girl and her brother away and I’ll see to it that the DR folks claim them.”

  “I’ll pay for their burials.”

  “You can’t be in any way connected. But I can see to it the funds get where they’re needed.”

  Jack nodded. He was suddenly exhausted. He wanted this day over.

  “Let’s get to work.”

  12

  The City Chemical truck didn’t exit until three quarters of an hour later, turning back the way it came. The Nova did not reappear, so Dane made a snap decision to follow the truck. He didn’t know if it was headed for another delivery or back to base. Either way, he needed to know what it had just delivered to the Mohammedans.

  Chemicals and jihadists were usually a lethal mix.

  Sure enough, the truck led him straight back to the Heights. He followed it to a one-story building in a small industrial park. A CITY CHEMICAL sign out front said it had come home. He watched it pull around to the fenced-off parking lot in the rear. Throwing all caution to the wind, Dane entered the driveway and eased around the side. When he reached the rear lot, the driver had already gone inside.

  “I see no good reason to lock the empty trucks back here in the private lot,” he muttered. “Let’s hope you agree.”

  He parked his Plymouth so that the deliver
y van was between him and the building, then got out and peeked through the passenger-side window. A clipboard lay on the front seat. He tugged on the door handle. It opened.

  “Yes.”

  He grabbed the clipboard. The top sheet had the Mallory Avenue address. Ice formed in his gut as he scanned the list: half a ton of urea … nitric acid … sulfuric acid …

  Christ, they were building a bomb. A big one.

  He ripped the sheet off the board, jumped back into his car, and roared out of the lot.

  His watching and waiting were over. They were making their move. It would take them days to mix all that, so he still had time.

  Time to come in from the cold.

  Time to head home.

  13

  Nasser recognized Drexler’s voice. He’d been expecting the call.

  “Any word from those two?”

  Always cautious. No names would be mentioned, no details about what was expected from the unnamed.

  “Nothing.”

  “Isn’t that odd?”

  Nasser had spent quite a few hours now thinking the same thing. His unease had grown through the afternoon.

  “A bit. I told the Croat to call in every two hours or so.”

  “When did they begin surveillance?”

  “Early this morning.”

  “It’s now midafternoon and you’ve heard nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Perhaps we should have given them a mobile phone.”

  And have its calls traced to me? Nasser thought. No, thank you.

  “Their vantage point is near”—he bit off mentioning Journal Square—“a central commercial district with easy access to public telephones.”

  “What are your thoughts then?”

  My thoughts? That something has gone terribly wrong.

  “Best-case scenario? They may have got themselves involved in a prolonged pursuit that doesn’t allow them to stop for a call.”

  “My man would find a way to call in. He’s very good that way. A prolonged pursuit would make it even more likely that he would do so, if only for backup.”