The Plea, page 22
part #2 of Eddie Flynn Series
I almost felt sorry for the guy.
Casually, Boo raised her right knee high and then brought her pencil heel down like a hydraulic press on the top of Sergei’s left foot. At least two inches of stiletto heel disappeared into the soft flesh where his foot met his ankle. He didn’t scream. He didn’t have time. His mouth opened, his eyes rolled, and by the time he’d hit the floor he’d already passed out.
Gill didn’t move forward.
His right arm flexed. His hand rose, and as it drew level with his waist, I saw his elbow extend behind him. He was going for a piece.
The conference doors burst open. Gill arrested his movement, and all heads swung to the back of the room to see the tall, dark figure cradling a Glock.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“The Lizard’s gotta make a small apology,” said the Lizard.
“Who is this?” said Sinton, rising to his full height.
“This is the Lizard. He’s a friend of mine. He handles my personal security,” I said.
“The two guys in the lobby didn’t want to let me up here. We talked. They didn’t listen. Cops are on the way. Your receptionist called them, then called the paramedics. The big guy don’t look too good. He might wake up tomorrow to find he’s a little shorter than he used to be.”
Sinton stumbled backward, knocked his chair over. Gill put a hand on his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the Lizard. I saw that the Lizard also locked his gaze on Gill. I’d seen this before. Somehow the two most lethal men in any room always seem to find each other; they know instinctively who poses the biggest threat, and neither of them will back down until one of them gets his ticket punched.
I didn’t need to check my watch to know that we’d been in the building for seventy minutes. I’d told the Lizard that if we hadn’t come out after an hour, he should come get us.
Nobody moved.
I heard the unmistakable sound of a police siren. It was soft and distant, but urgent.
“We should go, Eddie. You got that thing,” said the Lizard.
“He’s right. I’ve got a thing. I think I can speak for David in saying you’re fired.”
When Sinton spoke, all of his practiced refinery washed away in his rage. “That’s just fine. We don’t represent snitches, anyway. No point. They usually get themselves killed.”
“Why don’t we take the stairs; it was a long wait in the car,” said the Lizard.
Quickly, we filed out, Boo and Roger in front, Holly and David, then me. The Lizard’s eyes lingered on Gill for a second longer, and then he blew him a kiss.
Gill winked.
We took the stairs two at a time down three flights.
“Here,” said the Lizard.
We followed him through the swinging doors to a dark office reception lit with the interior light from the elevator—a knife jamming the elevator doors open.
As the elevator ran to the ground floor, no one could manage a single word. We were all trying to catch our breath, slow the adrenaline—except Boo and the Lizard, who weren’t breathing heavy; they were watching the digital display count down the floors. In the lobby, the female receptionist saw us, screamed when she clocked the Lizard, and hid behind her desk.
On the way out I saw the two security men lying in a heap by the door, their automatic weapons stripped and useless in front of them. One guard was facedown and unmoving. The big guy who’d done the talking to let us up in the first place sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. He gingerly touched his calf. His breath came in short, spasmodic gasps, increasing in intensity as his hands got closer to his ankle. His foot looked as if it was turned in the wrong direction. As the revolving doors swung to let us into the street, his screams drowned out the still-distant police sirens.
I got into the driver’s seat of Holly’s car and started the engine.
“Don’t move; wait,” said David.
I craned my neck to look at him and saw his laptop held up in front of his face.
The code screen had disappeared; only the firm’s page remained. Below the Harland and Sinton logo, it read—
YOU ARE NOW LOGGED IN
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“Wait, wait … If you take off, I’ll lose the signal.”
The NYPD response vehicles were maybe five blocks away, the sirens increasing their pitch and ferocity with every passing second.
I started the car, waited to let the revs die down, and then gently pressed the accelerator. If I revved the car too much, I would flood the engine—I just needed it warm, loose, ready to take off.
“Oh Jesus, they’re coming,” said Holly.
She buried her head in the seat and slid down until her eyes met the bottom of the passenger window. Gill and two other men were in the lobby, kneeling over the big man.
The Lizard hadn’t taken off either. He was waiting to follow me. He leaned out of the van window and hocked his thumb at me. Roger was behind the wheel of that van and he was also pumping the gas.
“David,” I said.
The hollow plastic tinkle of fingers on keys grew in intensity.
“I’m downloading. Thirty percent … forty-one percent … Hold on.”
“David, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Nothing.
The sirens were close now.
Gill was in the revolving door, his right hand behind his back.
I nodded to the Lizard, floored the Honda, and pulled into the street. The dull, throaty noise from the van’s V-8 sounded behind me. I signaled, turned the corner, and headed deeper into the city as fast as I could.
“No, I’m almost done. Wait!”
“You get it?” I said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I got it,” he said, removing the USB drive from his laptop.
We drove into Jersey, looped around the suburbs in crazy patterns. After thirty minutes I stopped the car, waited for the Lizard, Boo, and Roger.
“You think the DA will let me walk in exchange for this?” said David, holding up the flash drive.
“I’ll push it as hard as I can. You risked your life tonight. I won’t forget that. The feds will lean on Zader to get this data. It’s all we’ve got. I just hope they want it bad enough.”
We listened to the wheeze from the engine while the idea floated around.
“You think they can persuade him?” said David.
“I don’t know, but I sure hope so.”
I lied. I did know. Dell, no matter what kind of connections he had in New York, wouldn’t be able to sell the DA on a withdrawal for David. No way. They would want a full confession and jail time. Nothing else would satisfy Zader. Either I didn’t want to tell David, or I couldn’t. Whichever, I said nothing more. We’d made our play. The con had burned away the pretense with the firm. It was now open war. I’d already warned the Lizard to be on the lookout for the man with the Scream tattoo on his neck. When Roger, at the wheel of the CBS van, appeared in my rearview, I let him overtake and followed.
Weaving through the streets, keeping the van in my headlights, I thought of Christine. I was close to getting her out of this now. She and Amy just had to hang on for a little longer.
The sky had darkened and it was a full moon, bright and tinged with red. I imagined that when the cops arrived at the firm, Gerry would play it down, maybe tell them their man fell down the stairs. I knew Gerry Sinton wouldn’t want the cops looking into him or his security team. He would make no complaint about the Lizard beating the hell out of his guys.
Sinton would deal with it his own way. Now that he knew we were on to the money-laundering scheme, he would go all out on having us killed. He had to be careful. Nothing to link it back to him or the firm. But the pressure was on.
“Where’s the money gonna land?” I asked.
“Chase Manhattan at four-oh-five p.m. tomorrow. I’ve got the account number.”
I wondered what Gerry would do when the money hit the account. I knew what I would do if I were him. If Gerry was smart, he’d leave the money where it was, take whatever cash he had stashed already, and hitch a private plane to a nonextradition country.
Dell needed the account details and all the evidence to sink the firm before the money became available. His biggest hope was to secure the illegal funds. The amount of money recovered was where the real glory lay for Dell.
“How much money is there?”
“Enough to give Donald Trump heart palpitations. Close to eight,” said David.
“Eight million?” said Holly.
“No, eight billion,” said David.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Our destination following the visit to Harland and Sinton had already been agreed. The Lizard would collect his van from Roger’s house and leave Boo and Roger to put the CBS van in the garage. The Lizard was to collect his own van and meet Holly, David, and me at his place. The Lizard said his house would be safest. Turns out, it wasn’t so safe after all. But that had more to do with the wildlife in the house than the firm.
I pulled in to a space outside a suburban residence in Queens, and the Lizard’s van parked behind me. Soon as we stopped I called the Lizard’s associate Frankie, whose people were watching the hotel Christine and Amy were holed up in. So far they were safe and there was no suspicious activity. And no men with neck tattoos.
The Lizard’s home looked more like a reptile house than a family home in the sleepy corner of Queens.
“Don’t go into the yard. Don’t even open the door,” said the Lizard, slowly, to everyone as they filed in through the front door. I remembered that out back the Lizard kept his most prized and highly illegal possessions—a pair of Komodo dragons that he called Bert and Ernie. Aside from personal protection, hits, and the occasional hot drop-off, the Lizard’s main role for the Italian Mafia was that of interrogator. If they needed somebody to talk, they brought him here. Usually a single look at Bert and Ernie was enough. Most of those guys didn’t catch on that the most lethal animal in that house was the Lizard himself.
Holly ate little and went to bed in the Lizard’s spare room. The Lizard stood in his kitchen, chopping a twenty-pound rack of pork belly and ribs into foot-long strips. When he was done, he went out back and locked the door from the outside.
Feeding time.
David left the plate in front of him untouched. Although he’d placed his laptop on the kitchen table, he had yet to open it. He sipped at yet another power drink and stared at a tank of tarantulas that the Lizard kept beside his toaster. I suddenly felt both sick and hungry. The Lizard had left a hero sandwich for me, which I unwrapped, cut in half, and placed on separate plates.
“You want some?” I asked, before taking a bite.
“You saved my life again tonight,” he said.
I shook my head.
“Boo and the Lizard saved all of us. I just hope it pays off.”
He drummed his fingers three times on the tabletop, adjusted the plate of sandwiches and pickles the Lizard had prepared, turning the plates through forty-five degrees. He took his time with the plate, making sure it was equidistant between his laptop and the edge of the table. When he was satisfied, he examined a pickle, before quickly replacing it and diving for the antibacterial wipes again.
“I’m going to trust you,” said David, handing me the USB drive. “Here,” he said. “Try for the deal. I know it’s a long shot. But there’s no reason your wife should be in danger. You can’t change what’s happened. I can. You can’t win this thing tomorrow. I know you’ll try; I understand that now. But quite frankly, there’s no reason your wife should suffer. Go on, take it.”
He wrote out a password code on a napkin. I folded the pen drive in the napkin, stood, and put my hand on David’s shoulder. He seemed to recoil a little and I gave him his space. I didn’t take it as a slight.
“Thank you, but I’m not going to give this to them unless you and Christine walk,” I said.
He nodded. “Eddie, I know you’ll do your best. I almost died twice today. I’m still here thanks to you. I won’t forget that.”
I dialed Dell’s number on the cell he’d given me.
“I’ve got what you need.”
“A guilty plea?”
“No, but I have the next best thing. I have the algorithm trace to access the money trail and the account number for the final deposit. Money lands just after four p.m. tomorrow, and I know exactly where it’s headed. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Meet me at the St. Regis Hotel in half an hour.”
“No.”
Silence.
“What is this, Eddie? A shakedown?”
“Call it whatever you want. I have something you desperately need. I want something in exchange.”
“You want money?”
“I want four things. A private jet, fueled and ready at Teterboro Airport. One pilot. Bring a hundred grand in nonsequential, untampered bills and I’ll give you the pen drive. You’ll get the DA to withdraw all charges against David Child and an immunity agreement for my wife. My wife and daughter are going to fly the hell out of here, and when I get a call to tell me the plane has landed, I’ll give you the password for the algo trace.”
Even though he muffled the microphone I could tell he was talking to somebody else in the room, relaying the information.
“I’ll need two hours. You got a deal,” he said.
I hung up, turned to David, and said, “We’re on. I’ve got just enough time to meet Langhiemer before I have to hit the airport.”
“I’m surprised he’s agreed to meet you.”
“It’s certainly interesting. Either he has nothing to do with Clara’s death and just wants to gloat—or he’s involved and wants to find out how much of the setup we’ve been able to figure out. Either way, once I meet him I’ll know.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
At three minutes past ten I drove by Ted’s Diner. It was a pretty small place, and my favorite spot for breakfast. The glass front meant that it was great for people watching. There were a couple of guys in high-vis coats, road workers probably getting a late meal; an old lady in a mock fur coat who was a regular; and a young man in a black hoodie with a MacBook open on the table in front of him. He was the youngest person in the place, fit the description David had given me, and sat close to the door. It was Langhiemer. I’d bet on it.
I looped around the block and parked down the street from the diner. There were still plenty of people milling around at this time of night. I switched on my cell, locked Holly’s car, and tried to hail a cab. While I waited on the sidewalk, I selected the call forwarding service on my cell and entered the number for the cellular phone Dell had given to me. The diner was maybe a hundred yards away. I could see the light spill onto the sidewalk, but no one inside the place could see me. A cab pulled up and I got in the back.
“Where to, pal?”
“Sorry, I forgot my wallet. I’ll have to go back to my apartment,” I said, climbing back out onto the street.
The driver shook his head. I closed the door and watched the yellow cab head away from the diner, toward the river, my cell phone tucked behind the seat.
I got back into the Honda and waited.
So far all of my limited dealings with Langhiemer had been on his terms; he had control and intel on me. I needed to switch that up.
My initial estimate was five minutes. I didn’t doubt that as soon as I turned on my cell, some kind of program alerted Langhiemer. He was probably sitting in Ted’s staring at the screen and wondering why I was headed in the opposite direction of the diner.
After four minutes the cell phone rang. Call forwarding. My own cell in the cab was on silent, and it shot the call to the phone in my hand. I answered it.
“I’m waiting…” said Langhiemer.
“Sorry. Something came up. I can’t make it. Can we reschedule?” I said.
“I don’t think so,” said Langhiemer, and disconnected.
I started the car. Langhiemer came out of the diner, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He made it over the crosswalk onto my side of the street and held out a thumb for a cab. A minute later, a yellow taxi picked him up. I gave it a few seconds before I pulled into a lane of traffic and followed him.
It didn’t take long for the yellow cab to drop him on Fifth Avenue. I parked, got out fast, and was maybe twenty feet away by the time he’d paid the driver and made for an apartment block overlooking the park. I watched him enter the building and hung back. I let a few minutes pass, then followed him. A doorman in full regalia, who probably preferred to be called a “living space concierge” stood at the entrance, eyeing me.
“Hi. I’m from Manhattan Cars. I just dropped off Mr. Langhiemer. Thing is, I just found a cell phone in the back of my car. I cleaned the car before I started my shift and didn’t find any phones. I think this is his. Would you mind letting me up so I could show it to him?”
I didn’t expect to get a pass even though I thought I sounded convincing. I held the cell phone in my hand and looked tired and bored.
“I’ll call him and ask him. Wait here,” said the doorman.
A couple of brown leather couches beside the security desk looked real comfortable and I took the one facing the elevators. From where I sat, I couldn’t hear the conversation with Langhiemer.
If he was half as smart as I thought he was, he’d figure it out.
“Mr. Langhiemer will be down to see you directly,” said the doorman.
Sure enough, before I could get too comfortable, the elevator doors opened and I saw the same man who’d left Ted’s Diner. A light beard, dark circles around his eyes. Slim, dressed all in black. The slight tremble around the lips and the broad-eyed stare gave away his jittery anger.
He launched himself out of the elevator with his hand extended. I took the handshake as I rose and felt him pull me toward the door. I let him. I’d been thrown out of plenty of bars, and this felt eerily similar.
“Let’s talk outside,” he said.
