Abel Baker Charley (55 page)
“What do you say we take a walk and move things along
in there?” Harrigan cocked his head toward the bank facade.
With the barrel of his revolver, he motioned Sonnenberg
down from the pulpit.
in there?” Harrigan cocked his head toward the bank facade.
With the barrel of his revolver, he motioned Sonnenberg
down from the pulpit.
“We'll wait here, Mr. Harrigan.” Sonnenberg sat back
against the pulpit's rim.
against the pulpit's rim.
Connor raised his weapon higher and gestured again.
“Be nice, Sonnenberg,” Harrigan said evenly. ”I won't
kill you, but you could lose some skin.”
kill you, but you could lose some skin.”
Sonnenberg smiled. A patient smile. “Please throw that
thing away, Mr. Harrigan. There's a trash receptacle on your
left.”
thing away, Mr. Harrigan. There's a trash receptacle on your
left.”
Harrigan took a step toward the pulpit. The hell with it.
He'd drag him off.
He'd drag him off.
“And while you're looking for the trash can, Mr. Harri
gan, I suggest you consider Mr. Hershey's argument for
doing as I ask.”
gan, I suggest you consider Mr. Hershey's argument for
doing as I ask.”
Harrigan turned his head slowly. Roger had shifted his
position and the rifle was no longer on his lap. The cross hairs of its scope were now squarely upon Connor Harrigan's chest. Harrigan looked up at Sonnenberg.
position and the rifle was no longer on his lap. The cross hairs of its scope were now squarely upon Connor Harrigan's chest. Harrigan looked up at Sonnenberg.
“Roger's had a change of heart? A little while ago he took
himself out of the game.”
himself out of the game.”
“Out of Domenic Tortora's game,” Sonnenberg corrected.
'Tm afraid Roger has had doubts about Domenic's stability.
The gun please, Mr. Harrigan.”
'Tm afraid Roger has had doubts about Domenic's stability.
The gun please, Mr. Harrigan.”
“Please, Jared.” Melanie turned her hand and opened her fin
gers so that the small automatic rested harmlessly across her
palm. “He's your friend. Please don't leave without talking
to him.”
gers so that the small automatic rested harmlessly across her
palm. “He's your friend. Please don't leave without talking
to him.”
Baker shut his eyes wearily at her use of the word.
”I know, Jared.” Melanie's voice was gentle. “Friends
don't kidnap little girls. But he had no choice, Jared. I swear
he didn't.”
don't kidnap little girls. But he had no choice, Jared. I swear
he didn't.”
“Right.” Baker adjusted his grip on Tina's body, then di
rected Tanner toward the door with his head. “The devil
made him do it. Tortora, right? Don't waste your time,
Melanie.”
rected Tanner toward the door with his head. “The devil
made him do it. Tortora, right? Don't waste your time,
Melanie.”
“Jared.” She raised her voice, a note of desperation at its
edges. “It's not Tortora. It's true Marcus has a problem with
that sometimes, but he always controls it. Just like you with
Abel and Charley. Please talk to him, Jared. He took Tina for
her own good.”
edges. “It's not Tortora. It's true Marcus has a problem with
that sometimes, but he always controls it. Just like you with
Abel and Charley. Please talk to him, Jared. He took Tina for
her own good.”
“baker”
It was Charley's voice. Baker ignored it. One of
Tina's eyes popped open.
It was Charley's voice. Baker ignored it. One of
Tina's eyes popped open.
“Jared, wait.” Tanner placed a hand against his shoulder.
“What about Tina's own good?” she asked Melanie Laver.
“What about Tina's own good?” she asked Melanie Laver.
“Duncan Peck would have taken her,” Melanie answered
a bit too quickly, then looked away.
a bit too quickly, then looked away.
“baker.”
Tina's other eye opened wide.
“As a hostage?” Tanner asked. “There's more, isn't
there?”
there?”
”I... I don't know.” Melanie looked down again.
“Let's go.” Baker swung Tina's body toward the door.
“Damn you, Jared.” Melanie's voice stopped him. “We're
going way out on a limb for you,” she said, angry now.
“Peck is using everything he's got to round us up. None of
us are safe until we get into our new lives far away from
here. Roger Hershey is out there close to a breakdown be
cause he killed three men today who would have killed you,
and he's too sweet a man to do that anymore. A fourth who was guarding Marcus's boat almost killed him because he
hesitated. Marcus and Stanley Levy both kept Tina safe
when Tortora might, just might, have harmed her. You can
mock that if you want, but then I'll ask you how obedient
Abel's been, starting with the day Sarah was killed. We're your friends, Jared. Marcus is your friend. He couldn't go
without seeing if he was right about. . ” Melanie chewed
her lip. Her eyes dropped to Tina, who was staring intently
at nothing. One of Tina's hands had clawed at the wool of
her father's sweater and was stretching and twisting it.
going way out on a limb for you,” she said, angry now.
“Peck is using everything he's got to round us up. None of
us are safe until we get into our new lives far away from
here. Roger Hershey is out there close to a breakdown be
cause he killed three men today who would have killed you,
and he's too sweet a man to do that anymore. A fourth who was guarding Marcus's boat almost killed him because he
hesitated. Marcus and Stanley Levy both kept Tina safe
when Tortora might, just might, have harmed her. You can
mock that if you want, but then I'll ask you how obedient
Abel's been, starting with the day Sarah was killed. We're your friends, Jared. Marcus is your friend. He couldn't go
without seeing if he was right about. . ” Melanie chewed
her lip. Her eyes dropped to Tina, who was staring intently
at nothing. One of Tina's hands had clawed at the wool of
her father's sweater and was stretching and twisting it.
Baker felt a stiffening of Tina's body and looked down at
the fist. The blood was draining from his face when he
looked up again. “Finish your thought, Melanie,” he said, his
voice a bare whisper.
the fist. The blood was draining from his face when he
looked up again. “Finish your thought, Melanie,” he said, his
voice a bare whisper.
Melanie hesitated, working her mouth soundlessly. Then her chest heaved once and her body sagged. The hand with
the pistol dropped to her side.
the pistol dropped to her side.
“BAYYKKERRR!”
“Something went wrong, Jared. It's Tina.”
“It's Sonnenberg all right,” Michael Biaggi whispered into
his transceiver. He crouched low in the dew-dampened
shrubs that lined the glass wall of the American Wing. The
figure on the pulpit had just shed his hat and overcoat and
was leaning over its edge toward Connor Harrigan. He'd al
most missed Roger Hershey, who lounged listlessly some
fifty feet away. “If Baker's here, I don't see him.”
his transceiver. He crouched low in the dew-dampened
shrubs that lined the glass wall of the American Wing. The
figure on the pulpit had just shed his hat and overcoat and
was leaning over its edge toward Connor Harrigan. He'd al
most missed Roger Hershey, who lounged listlessly some
fifty feet away. “If Baker's here, I don't see him.”
In an apartment over the Castelli Galleries on Seventy-seventh Street near Fifth Avenue, Ed Burleson straightened
at the sound of the doorbell and handed the transceiver to
D
oug Peterson, who stayed by the open window. A third
man, in his fifties, sat slumped against an art-filled wall.
He'd fainted. Fingers on both his hands were broken and
bleeding. At his feet were the torn remnants of the canvas
and frame of an oil painting. Burleson reached the apartment
door and tapped it once from the inside, opening it only at
the sound of Duncan Peck's voice.
at the sound of the doorbell and handed the transceiver to
D
oug Peterson, who stayed by the open window. A third
man, in his fifties, sat slumped against an art-filled wall.
He'd fainted. Fingers on both his hands were broken and
bleeding. At his feet were the torn remnants of the canvas
and frame of an oil painting. Burleson reached the apartment
door and tapped it once from the inside, opening it only at
the sound of Duncan Peck's voice.
“Sonnenberg's there, sir.” Ed Burleson gestured in the general direction of the museum. “Just like Poindexter said he'd be.”
Peck glanced disinterestedly at the broken man curled
near the wall. “Philip Poindexter.” He nodded. “This man
was Luther Dowling before his reincarnation as assistant cu
rator of the Metropolitan?”
near the wall. “Philip Poindexter.” He nodded. “This man
was Luther Dowling before his reincarnation as assistant cu
rator of the Metropolitan?”
“Yes sir. We're unable to confirm that through the identi
fication bureau, but he acknowledged as much under inter
rogation. Luther Dowling, Junior. In fact, he was once the owner of Sonnenberg's house.”
fication bureau, but he acknowledged as much under inter
rogation. Luther Dowling, Junior. In fact, he was once the owner of Sonnenberg's house.”
“Hmmm,” Peck reflected. “Rather sloppy of Sonnenberg
to tell us the name Dowling instead of Poindexter. It shows
the folly of allowing oneself to be diverted by a compulsion
to taunt.”
to tell us the name Dowling instead of Poindexter. It shows
the folly of allowing oneself to be diverted by a compulsion
to taunt.”
“With respect, sir,” Burleson replied, “we were still
lucky. He says Sonnenberg reached him at the museum and
told him to make sure the place was unguarded and unwired tonight and then bail out immediately without returning to this apartment. He disregarded that last instruction in order
to pick up some paintings he especially valued. Poindexter
was in the act of packing when our people made their
sweep.”
lucky. He says Sonnenberg reached him at the museum and
told him to make sure the place was unguarded and unwired tonight and then bail out immediately without returning to this apartment. He disregarded that last instruction in order
to pick up some paintings he especially valued. Poindexter
was in the act of packing when our people made their
sweep.”
“Some sweep.” Duncan sniffed. “It's yielded one small
fish unless we count the cadaver of Howard Twilley. It will
serve little if it fails to result in the taking of bigger fish.
Whom do you have observing the museum?”
fish unless we count the cadaver of Howard Twilley. It will
serve little if it fails to result in the taking of bigger fish.
Whom do you have observing the museum?”
“Biaggi, sir. He's on the north end, and one of my men is
covering the door to the museum offices through which they forced entry. Biaggi just confirmed seeing Connor Harrigan
with Sonnenberg. As a bonus, Roger Hershey is in the same
room.”
covering the door to the museum offices through which they forced entry. Biaggi just confirmed seeing Connor Harrigan
with Sonnenberg. As a bonus, Roger Hershey is in the same
room.”
“No sign of Baker?”
“I'm afraid not, sir.”
“More's the pity,” Peck muttered. “Have we an idea, by
the way, why Sonnenberg would set up a rendezvous with
Connor Harrigan in so exotic a location? Or why he wouldn't
choose a meeting place both more conventional and more
simply arranged? Or why Connor Harrigan is suddenly not in
the company of Jared Baker and the Burke woman?”
the way, why Sonnenberg would set up a rendezvous with
Connor Harrigan in so exotic a location? Or why he wouldn't
choose a meeting place both more conventional and more
simply arranged? Or why Connor Harrigan is suddenly not in
the company of Jared Baker and the Burke woman?”
“We have no information on either point, sir.”
Peck refrained from rolling his eyes at this sluglike re
sponse to his presumption that Burleson possessed an imag
ination. Marcus, Ivor, whoever, had made a valid point, he
thought, about Edward and his ilk. Ah, Marcus! If only
you'd been a reasonable man. And ah to you too, Connor.
One must give the devil his due. How terribly I shall miss
you. How desperately I shall wish that I might have had one of you rather than ten of these. If it were you and not Ed
ward, for example, you would ask why there was a need to
force entry into the museum. You would answer that the per
son who entered in that fashion, doubtless yourself, was an
unwelcome guest.
sponse to his presumption that Burleson possessed an imag
ination. Marcus, Ivor, whoever, had made a valid point, he
thought, about Edward and his ilk. Ah, Marcus! If only
you'd been a reasonable man. And ah to you too, Connor.
One must give the devil his due. How terribly I shall miss
you. How desperately I shall wish that I might have had one of you rather than ten of these. If it were you and not Ed
ward, for example, you would ask why there was a need to
force entry into the museum. You would answer that the per
son who entered in that fashion, doubtless yourself, was an
unwelcome guest.
“Mr. Peck,” Doug Peterson called from the window, his
transceiver at his ear. “Biaggi says that Roger Hershey has a rifle pointed at Connor Harrigan and is disarming him.”
transceiver at his ear. “Biaggi says that Roger Hershey has a rifle pointed at Connor Harrigan and is disarming him.”
Voilà!
thought Peck. Who, therefore, is the welcome
guest? Jared Baker? The rest of Sonnenberg's assorted
clones? If so, Sonnenberg will soon notice that Philip
Poindexter is not among them and begin to sniff the wind. And what of Baker's kidnapped daughter? An event of
doubtless major significance and doubtlessly arranged by Sonnenberg, since I know, alas, that I was too late to that
table. There, now. There is reason for a confrontation and a broken door. If so, Baker would hardly assign Connor Har
rigan as his daughter's rescuer. Baker's there. He's there or
he's coming.
thought Peck. Who, therefore, is the welcome
guest? Jared Baker? The rest of Sonnenberg's assorted
clones? If so, Sonnenberg will soon notice that Philip
Poindexter is not among them and begin to sniff the wind. And what of Baker's kidnapped daughter? An event of
doubtless major significance and doubtlessly arranged by Sonnenberg, since I know, alas, that I was too late to that
table. There, now. There is reason for a confrontation and a broken door. If so, Baker would hardly assign Connor Har
rigan as his daughter's rescuer. Baker's there. He's there or
he's coming.
“Tell Mr. Biaggi,” Peck ordered Doug Peterson, “that in
five minutes we'll be at his side. He is to take no action.”
Peck turned to Burleson, satisfaction on his face. “When thieves fall out, Edward.” He smiled.
five minutes we'll be at his side. He is to take no action.”
Peck turned to Burleson, satisfaction on his face. “When thieves fall out, Edward.” He smiled.
“Sir?”
“Never mind, Edward. Have you considered a plan of attack?”
“Cover the probable exits and observe, sir. When they
start to come out, we can redeploy and take them.”
start to come out, we can redeploy and take them.”
“That was your plan at the Plaza, Edward. This time we'll
go in.” Peck noticed the torn and shattered painting at
Poindexter's feet. “What is that, by the way?”
go in.” Peck noticed the torn and shattered painting at
Poindexter's feet. “What is that, by the way?”
“It's one of the pictures he returned to get, sir. I believe
he said it was a Bernard Buffet.”
he said it was a Bernard Buffet.”
“An original?”
“Yes sir. We tore it a strip at a time to encourage his co
operation. It brought faster results than physical coercion.”
operation. It brought faster results than physical coercion.”
Peck closed his eyes. “We'll go to the museum now,
gentlemen. Acquit yourselves well and perhaps you can
smash a Cellini cup or two.”
gentlemen. Acquit yourselves well and perhaps you can
smash a Cellini cup or two.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind, Edward.” Peck waved a hand toward what
was left of Luther Dowling. “Bring that with you. The van
is at the curb.”
was left of Luther Dowling. “Bring that with you. The van
is at the curb.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You're a very good man, Edward.”
“Holy shit!” Biaggi swore aloud, tossing his transceiver to
one side and crouching deeper into the bush. The doors of an
old-fashioned building had slammed open, kicked from the
inside, and there was Baker. Holding the kid. Screaming at
Sonnenberg. Biaggi couldn't hear. He could only see the
face and the teeth. And the actress, Tanner Burke, trying to
quiet him. And some other dame.
one side and crouching deeper into the bush. The doors of an
old-fashioned building had slammed open, kicked from the
inside, and there was Baker. Holding the kid. Screaming at
Sonnenberg. Biaggi couldn't hear. He could only see the
face and the teeth. And the actress, Tanner Burke, trying to
quiet him. And some other dame.
He was screaming about the kid, Biaggi knew, from the way he kept looking down at her. But the kid wasn't listen
ing. She was just looking around. Staring at walls. Staring now at him, Biaggi thought. He pulled back farther. Easy!
There's no way she could see. She's yelling something. She's
pointing. Jesus! Now they're all looking. Harrigan's running for a garbage can and Hershey's waving him off. And Son
nenberg is staring. Sneering, the son of a bitch! Take no ac
tion, huh. So the bastard can set me up again? Bullshit.
ing. She was just looking around. Staring at walls. Staring now at him, Biaggi thought. He pulled back farther. Easy!
There's no way she could see. She's yelling something. She's
pointing. Jesus! Now they're all looking. Harrigan's running for a garbage can and Hershey's waving him off. And Son
nenberg is staring. Sneering, the son of a bitch! Take no ac
tion, huh. So the bastard can set me up again? Bullshit.
Biaggi leaped to his feet, snapping the safety off his Uzi,
and smashed its butt housing against the safety glass of the
window wall. Nothing happened. He stepped back, in panic,
and fired a short burst that cleared a ragged eight-inch hole.
Out-of-focus figures scattered on the other side. A woman
near Baker crashed backward, her hands clutching at her ab
domen. Hershey whirled toward Biaggi as the woman cried
out. He snapped one shot that missed by inches, then backed away, finally turning and running toward Melanie Laver. Bi
aggi ignored the retreating back. He jammed the short Uzi
muzzle through the hole and sighted low and left on Son-nenberg's pulpit. He fired. Explosions of stone danced up
ward amid an echoing roar and sprayed showers of sparks and granite when they reached the railing below Sonnen
berg's chest. Sonnenberg, arms flailing, staggered backward
and slammed hard against the pulpit's inner wall. Biaggi
squeezed again as he hung there. Nothing. Empty. He fum
bled at the pocket of his gray raincoat for another clip. Baker
was running now, the other woman with him, the girl Baker
carried shielded by their bodies. Biaggi found the clip and
jammed it in place. Too late. Baker was inside a doorway to the right before Biaggi's front sight caught him. To Biaggi's left there was a blur of movement. A man. Running toward him. Running like a woman runs. His mouth moving sound
lessly, his eyes full of hate.
and smashed its butt housing against the safety glass of the
window wall. Nothing happened. He stepped back, in panic,
and fired a short burst that cleared a ragged eight-inch hole.
Out-of-focus figures scattered on the other side. A woman
near Baker crashed backward, her hands clutching at her ab
domen. Hershey whirled toward Biaggi as the woman cried
out. He snapped one shot that missed by inches, then backed away, finally turning and running toward Melanie Laver. Bi
aggi ignored the retreating back. He jammed the short Uzi
muzzle through the hole and sighted low and left on Son-nenberg's pulpit. He fired. Explosions of stone danced up
ward amid an echoing roar and sprayed showers of sparks and granite when they reached the railing below Sonnen
berg's chest. Sonnenberg, arms flailing, staggered backward
and slammed hard against the pulpit's inner wall. Biaggi
squeezed again as he hung there. Nothing. Empty. He fum
bled at the pocket of his gray raincoat for another clip. Baker
was running now, the other woman with him, the girl Baker
carried shielded by their bodies. Biaggi found the clip and
jammed it in place. Too late. Baker was inside a doorway to the right before Biaggi's front sight caught him. To Biaggi's left there was a blur of movement. A man. Running toward him. Running like a woman runs. His mouth moving sound
lessly, his eyes full of hate.
Other books
The Dog That Stole Home by Matt Christopher
A Dad for Billie by Susan Mallery
A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) by E.M. Tippetts
The Bull Slayers: Inspector Faro No 9 by Knight, Alanna
Shield of Lies by Jerry Autieri
A Mind to Murder by P. D. James
Lost and Found by Ginny L. Yttrup
The Agathon: Reign of Arturo by Colin Weldon
Feeling This by Blue, Casey
