Second Shot, page 18
“One moment.”
She kicked her captor in the side of the head. Guess he’d been cruel to her.
“You’re safe now,” she said, a smile relieving the tension they both felt.
“If I ever need a partner, I know who to recruit.”
The 7 train was a block away.
It wasn’t until they’d reached Queensborough Plaza and he shifted in his seat that he felt the cool heat at the small of his back. He was still carrying his gun. The attack he’d suffered hadn’t produced an instinct to use it. Or maybe he hadn’t used it because he had gotten used to packing.
* * * *
One Police Plaza, Tenth Floor
That’s where Jimmy found himself, along with a visibly nervous Lena Tam. She was still shaken by her experience; the fact she’d been saved seemed to have awakened a mild case of post-traumatic stress. Jimmy’s stomach hurt. That guy had had a nasty kick.
But they were alive. As the elevator doors opened on the very industrial looking floor, Lena hesitated.
“I’m not sure. Seems…scary.”
“Better than being tied up in a warehouse. This is command central of the NYPD. As I told you, you will be safe. No harm will come to you ever again.”
“I was told not to trust the police.”
“Yeah, probably from Mr. Wu-Tin.”
“In my life, I’ve learned not to trust anyone.”
Jimmy touched her hand. Squeezed it. “Trust me. I’m one of the good guys. I got you here. The cops will know how you helped me overcome that thug.”
He let her get cleaned up in a bathroom. She took ten minutes and he began to worry.
But then she emerged, her face freshened.
Down the corridor they went, Jimmy headed to the meeting room where he would meet with the task force. Deputy Commissioner Salvatore Frisano, Lieutenant Roscoe Barone, and, with his heart on hold, Francis X. Frisano. This was business. His call to Frisano from the train after having rescued Lena had resulted in this meeting. All hands were on deck. This would be the first insider look at his empire.
Jimmy opened the door to the room, waiting until Lena entered. He followed close behind. Trying to act as protector.
Hard to do with the three men sitting around the table.
Sal, adorned with his medals and official uniform, an intimidating presence.
Barone with his seventies’ style detective look, thick mustache and wrinkly suit.
Then Frisano, surprisingly in his police captain’s uniform, something Jimmy thought he’d never see again. It was a strange juxtaposition, the man he knew with the job he knew, even as all of it had been thrown away these last few months. Jimmy hated to admit it. Frisano remained hot, sexy, and offered up the kind of distraction he didn’t need.
He coughed, his body feeling the pain. That brought him back.
“You are Lena Tam?” Salvatore began as she took her seat.
“I am.”
“You work for Mr. Wu-Tin?”
“I did. Until the restaurant where I served as hostess burned down.”
“That was only three days ago. What have you been doing in the days following the fire at the restaurant?”
“I thought Mr. McSwain explained…”
“We need to hear it from you.”
“I was held captive. I just come from dropping off a package to Mr. Wu-Tin, when I heard talking on the phone. He said terrible things. Dangerous things. Then he said to someone, “time to burn it.” Seconds later I hear explosion and I smell smoke coming from downstairs. I ran. That’s when I was grabbed. I was so frightened.”
“Understood.”
Barone slid forward. His time for questions. “What is your relationship to Mr. Wu-Tin?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Wu-Tin has a history of dispensing—meaning, killing—those who threaten his business, but yet here you are speaking to us. Alive. Why did he spare your life when the likes of Kenji and others have met terrible ends?”
Lena looked scared, and she gave Jimmy a glance that indicated she didn’t want to answer the question. But Jimmy had already figured it out. The 7 train had been a long ride, and the few questions he’d gotten Lena to answer had told him all he needed to know. It wasn’t just because she’d overheard too much, it was because of her perceived betrayal that she was tortured.
“Lena is a relative,” Jimmy said. “I’m guessing a daughter-in-law.”
“Is this true?”
“Former daughter-in-law,” she said.
“Your husband, Wu-Tin’s son. Where is he?”
“He murdered Kenji.”
The one-time host of the Chinatown Imperial Dragon, as well as confidante and enforcer. Jimmy hadn’t known the man was his son. Did Wu-Tin know no boundaries?
“If he killed Kenji, why didn’t he kill you? Especially considering what you know?” asked Frisano. “I mean, he’s a brutal killer and has no respect for life, for family. Yet here you are, still breathing. Lena, what did you overhear? What is Wu-Tin’s ultimate goal?”
Lena again gave Jimmy a sharp look, worry written on her face. It’s like she saw her own fatal ending before her eyes if she revealed what she knew. Jimmy slid a hand across the table, again squeezed it out of support.
“I am nervous,” she said. “Sometimes English, it is difficult.”
“Speak how you need to, just talk to me.”
“He has grown increasingly…ruthless. He always valued money. Now he treasures revenge as his life’s motivation. Once he had Kenji killed, he went underground. No one saw boss for months, and then suddenly one day he walked into restaurant. He has powerful empire in China, made more money than he ever need. But when greed drives you, nothing is ever enough. I heard him one day talking to Kenji—last spring—that he was going to, as he said, “lie low. Return to China and regroup his American operation.” Jimmy, he mentioned you. How he was coming back to…end you.”
“He nearly killed my sister.”
“If he could do to Kenji what he did, life, family, means nothing.”
Salvatore resumed control of the meeting. “Tell me what you know.”
“All of the properties he own—the warehouses, the restaurants, were insured. What he claimed was arson, but not at his hands, of course. An enemy. He want insurance money, which would help rebrand his American empire. He would disappear, knowing the New York Police—you—were, how do you say, breathing down his neck. Everything Mr. Wu-Tin does is about money. Anyone who crosses him…they don’t survive.”
“What else did you overhear?” Barone asked. “What’s his end game?”
“You assure me, I can be safe?”
“Lena,” Jimmy said, “these are the men tasked with bringing down Wu-Tin. Myself included. Nothing will happen to you.”
“I will be deported, sent back to China. He will find me there, torture me.”
“I won’t allow that,” Jimmy said.
“Ms. Tam…Lena,” Sal said. “Are you saying you’re an illegal?”
The room grew silent. As did she.
“You’re not in trouble. You won’t go to jail. You won’t be deported, not if you help us.”
Jimmy knew Salvatore Frisano as a gruff, tough Brooklyn cop, so it was surprising to hear notes of compassion in his voice. Jimmy saw the earnestness in his eyes. He was ultimately the man in charge and what he said was bible. Jimmy nodded at Lena, assuring her she could trust his words.
“Everyone who works for Mr. Wu-Tin illegal. He pays no taxes, he pay slave wages. We are promised good life in this new world. We are sent on ships, illegal cargo amidst boxes and boxes of illegal products. Fireworks. Maybe drugs. Toys produced in factories made by children.” She paused. “I come to America three years ago. I live, my husband and I—lived in a small apartment in Flushing with five other people. All of us working for him. All while he lived in opulence. That’s a word I had to learn. Since I’ve been here, I have tried to better myself. My words are not always clear.”
“We appreciate everything you’re offering up. Aside from the smuggling in of people, we knew about his operation. Just didn’t have any proof,” Sal said. “The ports are closely monitored, so it would be difficult for Wu-Tin to bring in illegals. Authorities would find them, stop it. So how did he pull it off?”
“Pull what off?” she asked.
Frisano spoke. “Ms. Tam, how is it you reached New York?”
“From a boat.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Again, she appeared nervous, afraid to speak. Jimmy assured her she’d be fine. Her dark eyes grew with fear, she no doubt realizing there was no going back. What she was about to reveal would seal her fate, the betrayal of a man who had given her a new opportunity, even as he’d used her to his own advantage. She was the only one who appeared to get away from his clutches. He supposed he’d rescued her just in time.
“The cargo ship would stop in ocean, it would be met by Mr. Wu-Tin’s yacht. There he would load it full of his workers. They would sail into private dock on Long Island, all of them, us, myself included, would just get off the yacht and be brought to where we would live, where we would work. No one knew anything.”
“And now?”
“And now he’s shutting down his operation. Plans to return everyone to China.”
“Same way?”
“Um, yes.”
“I sense hesitation.”
“He was planning to bring all of his employees from the restaurants, from the warehouses, gang members, all of them back onto the boat, where they would connect with a cargo ship heading back to China. Except, that was not his true plan.”
Jimmy nodded. “Let me guess. Another fire.”
She wiped a tear. Her lip quivered. “Afraid to say anymore.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Except one thing,” Sal said. “Where is the yacht, and when is he planning to kill them?”
“I don’t know. I only heard one other thing, nothing specific about when.”
“What else have you left out?”
“Only that he plans to leave one dead body on the city’s streets. Whomever he was speaking about, his tone was…like crazy man,” she said. Again, a tear formed, and her eyes stared directly at Jimmy. “He want one more body.”
Chapter 13
“How’s that target on my back looking to you?”
“Not funny.”
“But your plan worked. Like I said in the beginning, I was the bait. I even got threatened by the mastermind himself, tackled this morning, and if I’d been caught who knows what river I’d be at the bottom of now. Of course, burned to a crisp first.”
Frisano was walking outside into the day’s sunshine with him. Still, a darkness existed between them. “Fulfilling your hotness.”
It was an attempt.
“Look, Jim, you’re made of tough stuff.”
“Always was. Last few months, I had to get tougher.”
“Was that necessary? I thought we’d, kinda sorta almost, hash it out in that restaurant.”
“See, that’s the thing. Kinda sorta almost.”
Frisano just nodded, looking away as he did so. They kept walking, quietly, beyond the grounds and the cement barriers that kept One Police Plaza safe from terrorists, crazy people, meddlesome private investigators unless they were invited. Ex-lovers not welcome.
It was early afternoon, Jimmy felt hunger strike him. A growl of his stomach enlivened the quiet day.
“Wanna grab lunch?” Frisano asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Jim, I’m trying.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to try.”
“I want to get my life back in order. I like to think that includes you.”
“First part, fix that. Second part, not sure that’s possible.”
“I kissed you the other night. You didn’t resist.”
Jimmy wasn’t ready for this. Not any of it. It hurt deeply. Especially after the betrayal he’d experienced with Brenden Hendricks. From both of them, Frisano, Brenden, they each had their own issues and Jimmy didn’t need either as part of his world. Family was his focus, no doubt the Wu-Tin case part of that, but he’d rather concentrate on the criminal aspect of the case, not its ancillary romantic component. As for Brenden, Jimmy had already told the man he’d washed his hands of the case, and of Brenden. He was done, fearing how his quitting would affect Mallory’s desire to return to her job. That was his focus. Not the man before him.
“Frank, I’ve gotta go.”
They were standing in a courtyard between OPP and the courthouses, amidst a bustling group of young lawyers, all eager to subvert the justice system to their advantage. But isn’t that what all people did? Digging into your soul, finding the truth buried within yourself? You didn’t need a blindfolded lady balancing the scales of justice before you. Search hard, lies gave way to peace. There was no denying that Jimmy was still attracted to Frisano. Looking at the man now, Frisano was a mix of his two worlds—the cop in uniform, the thick beard an indication of his rebellious nature. But Jimmy couldn’t deal with either now.
“How about tonight? Come over. I’ll explain…everything.”
Jimmy was spared having to answer. His phone rang, the caller surprising him. Stepping away from Frisano, seeking shade under a tree, he said, “Mr. Streb.”
“Ah, Mr. McSwain. I expect you in my office in an hour’s time.”
“Gee, I’m kinda busy.”
“Mr. McSwain, might I remind you that you are on our payroll?”
Since they were being so formal, Jimmy said, “I told Mr. Hendricks I was done.”
“Not until I say so. So, an hour. Does that give you time enough to get here?”
Lower Manhattan. Midtown. The 6 train. “Like I said, I’m not on this case anymore.”
“I don’t take no for an answer.”
“Kind of a short word for someone who lives for billable hours.”
“Jimmy, don’t make this difficult. There’s a lot to explain to you.”
Streb wasn’t going to let this go. Better to go and get this over with. But he had one ace up his sleeve. “Fine. I’ll see you at your office in an hour. I expect my final payment for the services I’ve already provided, beyond my retainer.” Fuck the kill fee, he’d earned his keep. He waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he added a second shot. “And if my quitting this case has any, uh, deleterious effect on my sister’s status with your firm, just remember you have three partners.”
Silence. Threats could land like strike three with two outs in the bottom of the ninth.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” Jimmy said.
Jimmy put his phone away, saw that Frisano was still standing there.
“Problem?”
“Another case. A former case.”
“Sounds like you’re still on it.”
“It’s called closure. I think you’re familiar with the concept.”
Silence hit them, a bitterness in the air. “You weren’t always so bitter, Jimmy.”
“I never needed to be.”
He grabbed Jimmy’s hand, wouldn’t let go. His dark eyes locked with Jimmy’s, and while instinct wanted Jimmy to look away, he awaited what else was to be said.
“Tonight. Eight o’clock. I’ve got leftover lasagna from my ma.”
“Frank…”
“A bottle of Cabernet my father gave me.”
“Are your parents trying to seduce me?”
Jimmy was pulled closer to Frisano, face-to-face, beard-to-beard, where the air disappeared between them. Palpable tension seemed to act as an electrical current. “No, I am.”
“I’ve gotta go,” Jimmy murmured, his words said almost without breath.
“You said that a few minutes ago. You’re still here.”
His dark eyes widened. Giving more light to the day. To the moment.
That’s when Jimmy left, hating how their exchange had ended, but hating how it had begun, too. Conflict racing through his veins. Two big cases, both of which he wanted to put closure to, two relationships he wished to do the same with. The universe wasn’t cooperating. But thankfully the 6 train was, because as he went down the stairs at the nearly Brooklyn Bridge station, a train rolled into the station. He hopped aboard, glad it was a local. New Yorkers preferred the express train, but sometimes you had to give pause to your life, your world, your city. Local stops made the trip longer, but they also gave your mind more time to ponder your next step.
Streb.
Everyone associated with the Portnoy case had a purpose, a motive.
Guess it was time to learn what Streb had up his sleeve. In truth, though, Jimmy just wanted to be paid.
The Lexington Avenue line cooperated, and soon Jimmy was exiting the MTA system at 51st Street, venturing west toward Madison Avenue. It took a few minutes. Crossing avenues took longer than the streets, kind of the sidewalk version of the local and express of the subway. But he found himself at last on Madison and 47th Street. He’d been here just last night, trailing Brenden to the townhouse An uninvited guest, thwarted by that snooty doorman. Today was the opposite. Jimmy entered through the revolving door, was met by building security.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Streb is expecting you. Elevator is to your right. Twenty-second floor.”
A press of the button, a quick shot into the sky, Jimmy entered the inner sanctum of Loeb, Rosenstein, Caravel, and Streb. This wasn’t Brenden’s floor; rather, it was where the partners and their minions worked. As Jimmy approached the receptionist, a pretty dark-haired woman about thirty, he stole a quick look around at the fancy surroundings. Framed paintings, impeccable flower arrangements, sofa to welcome their high-end guests. Except Jimmy.
“Mr. Streb will see you now.”
It was a signal to Jimmy that this meeting was important. No doctor’s office-type waiting.
He knocked on a door marked Bryon Streb, Partner, asked to come in. But of course it wasn’t his office, but that of his assistant or secretary or paralegal or whatever social convention the world was calling them today.
“Mr. McSwain, I’m Janice Marker,” said a polite woman behind a cherry oak desk.
