Carnal Curiosity (26 page)

“Hey, baby,” Dugan said, sounding nervous. “This is Kristie. We’re doing a little business.”

“Oh, is that what you call it these days?” Crane stalked out of the living room and went to the bedroom, where she got out her suitcase and started packing.

Ten minutes later, Dugan came into the room. “What are you so hot about?” he demanded.

Crane said nothing, just continued throwing things at her suitcase.

“Kristie is my contact at the Creighton Arms. I couldn’t pull this off without her help.”

“You don’t seem to need any help pulling things off,” Crane said.

Dugan went to the chest of drawers and came back with an envelope and handed it to her. “This is a ticket from Atlanta to Mexico City, and the name of our hotel there. After the job I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh, you’ve already decided to run?”

“Just think of it as a vacation,” Dugan said. “When the dust settles and we’ve banked our new funds, we’ll be back.”

“And how am I supposed to explain a trip to Mexico to Mike Freeman?”

“Tell him you have a sick aunt.”

“Or something else as lame? When I’ve finished my business in Atlanta, I’m coming back here. It will be Friday afternoon. Be gone, if you like, and don’t come back, if you like.”

Dugan threw up his hands. “I can’t talk to you anymore.”

“Please don’t,” she said. She went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat down on the toilet lid, and cried a little. When she came out, he was gone.

58

D
ugan didn’t come back to her house that night. Crane fumed for a while and finally fell asleep. She woke up Tuesday morning to a ringing telephone, and she grabbed it. “Don?”

“Hello, Ms. Hart, this is Mac, your Strategic Services driver. I’ll be picking you up in half an hour for the trip to the airport.”

“Right, Mac, see you then.” She hung up, took a quick shower, and put on some makeup. Looking in the mirror, she saw her hand trembling as it held the lipstick.

She had allowed Don to suck her into this, and now she was terrified. He was talking about walking away from everything in New York, and everything she had was in New York—house, job, friends, everything. He had said it might come to this, but she hadn’t believed him until now, and she was beginning to panic. She dressed, closed her suitcase, and sat down on the bed, trying to gain control of herself.

The doorbell buzzed, making her jump. The car was waiting.
She picked up the phone and called a number she still remembered.

—

S
tone was in bed, reading the papers and watching Ann towel herself off, when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Crane.”

Stone put his hand over the phone. “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he said to Ann. “What is it, Crane?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and then I’ll tell you everything. It would be good if you get Dino over there, too.” She hung up.

“Something wrong?” Ann asked, slipping into her dress. “You look funny.”

“I’m sorry, an old client insists on coming over here immediately. I’d better get dressed.”

She allowed him to zip her up, then got into her shoes and kissed him. “I’m off. See you tonight?”

“You certainly will. Don’t let them work you too late.”

Ann left, and Stone got dressed. He was in his office when Crane arrived. Joan wasn’t downstairs yet—too early—so he let Crane in the street door and took her into his office.

“Did you call Dino?” she asked.

“Not until I know what this is about.”

She sat down on the sofa and took a deep breath. “Don is pulling off some kind of robbery.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow or Thursday—tomorrow, I think. I don’t know all the details.”

Stone picked up the phone and dialed Dino’s cell phone.

“Bacchetti.”

“Where are you?”

“Park Avenue and Fifty-second Street, headed to the office.”

“Come here instead.”

“What’s up?”

“I’ll save it for when you get here,” Stone said, then hung up.

Joan came into the office, then stopped when she saw Crane. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

“Dino’s on the way over. Let him in, will you?”

“Of course. Coffee?”

“Crane?”

“Yes, please.”

“For three.”

Joan went out the back door toward the kitchen and came back with a thermos carafe. She poured two cups and set one on the coffee table and the other on Stone’s desk. The front doorbell rang, and Joan went to answer it. She came back with Dino and poured him a cup of coffee, then left.

“Hi, Crane,” Dino said. “What’s up, Stone?”

“Start again,” Stone said to Crane.

“Dino, Don Dugan is going to pull off a big robbery.”

“When and where?”

“At the new Creighton Arms hotel. It was supposed to be Thursday, but I think it’s been moved up.”

“Up to when?”

“Probably tomorrow. I did the security planning for the event, and I brought the plans and the file home to work on a couple of weeks ago. I think Don got into it when I was asleep.”

“Does Mike Freeman know about Don’s interest in the event?”

“He may,” she replied. “He’s sending me to Atlanta today. I think he moved up the jewelry show a day to throw Don off, but Don has a contact at the hotel who must have tipped him off.”

“So you know some of this, but not all of it?” Dino asked.

Crane tossed off the rest of her coffee and set the cup down. “I guess you want to know everything.”

“Yes, I do,” Dino said.

“I’m going to need immunity.”

“Immunity from what?”

“From any crime Don may have committed.”

“With your help?”

“I’m going to need immunity before I can answer any more questions. Stone, you can represent me in this.”

“I’ll advise you, but I won’t represent you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a difference, trust me.”

“All right, advise me.”

“I advise you to get immunity, then tell Dino everything you know.”

Dino said, “Excuse me for a minute, I have to make a call.” He left Stone’s office and walked down the hall to where Joan sat, then pulled out his cell phone.

Stone looked at Crane, who was a nervous wreck. “Don’t tell me anything you don’t tell Dino,” he said. “I won’t be held to attorney-client privilege on this.”

“I understand,” she said.

Dino came back and sat down. “I asked Joan to call Mike Freeman and get him over here,” he said. “Crane, I’ve spoken to the DA, and you’ve got immunity on any crimes of Don’s that you may have known about or taken part in. But I have to know
absolutely everything you know, and if you lie to me once, the deal is off. Do you understand me?”

Crane nodded.

“Say, ‘Yes, I understand you.’”

“Yes, I understand you.”

“Stone, you’re my witness,” Dino said.

“I am.” Stone took a small recorder from his desk, pressed a button, and put it on the coffee table. “Go ahead,” he said to her.

Crane took a deep breath and began to talk.

Stone listened as she confirmed everything he had suspected Dugan of, and with a lot of detail he hadn’t imagined. As she was wrapping up her story, Mike Freeman arrived.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Crane, why aren’t you on the way to Atlanta?”

“I don’t think I’ll be going to Atlanta,” she said.

“Somebody tell me what’s going on,” Mike said.

Stone picked up the recorder and pressed the
PLAYBACK
button, and Mike listened. His face betrayed nothing.

After the playback finished, Stone turned off the recorder and gave the memory cartridge to Dino, who slipped it into a pocket.

“Stone,” Dino said, “I have a lot of calls to make, and I don’t have time to go down to my office to make them.”

“Take the office next to Joan’s,” Stone said. “Call anybody you like.”

Stone looked at Mike and Crane. “Shall I leave you alone?”

“Please don’t,” Mike said.

59

B
ill Murphy and Anita Mays were having a late breakfast when the call came. Murphy opened the cell phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s now,” Jerry Kowalski said, then hung up.

“We’ve got an hour,” Murphy said to Anita, checking his watch. “Pack some things.” He opened the phone again.

She put her hand on his. “Don’t call them,” she said. “Let’s play it by ear.”

“Get packed,” Murphy said, and punched in Detective Connor’s number.

“This is Connor.”

“It’s Bill Murphy. I just got the call.”

“Where’s the pickup?”

“Washington Square Arch, one hour. A black van.”

“We’re on it. Go.”

Murphy closed the phone and went to get packed.

Anita was angrily stuffing underwear into a duffel.

“Don’t start,” Murphy said. “Don’t ever bring it up again. I’m not going to prison for you or anybody else.”

She didn’t say a word, just kept packing.

—

J
im Connor and Aaron Cohn sat in a battered Honda supplied by the police compound a block from Washington Square Arch and watched, occasionally through binoculars.

“Why am I nervous?” Cohn said.

“You shouldn’t be, we’ve got this taped.”

“Listen, Jimmy, anything could happen here. The Hart woman could be doing this to throw us off.”

“You and I weren’t there to hear her story, but Bacchetti bought it. It’s going down a day early,” Connor said, “and there won’t be any helicopters involved. Dugan booked rooms on the floor below the jewelry show, and they’ll come up the stairs. Bacchetti believes it.”

“I hope to God he’s right. Did Bacchetti cancel our choppers over the scene?”

“All but one—he’s being cautious.”

Cohn pointed. “Look, there are the kids.”

Murphy and Anita got out of a cab at the Arch; they were five minutes early. Murphy looked around for a cop car and couldn’t find one. There was nobody on a motorcycle, either. “We’re good,” he said.

Anita still wasn’t talking.

“Did you leave your cell phone at home?”

She nodded.

“Good. They’ll search us anyway.”

“This guy Dugan…” she started to say.

“Don’t ever mention that name again. We’re not supposed to know it. We’ll call him the big guy.”

She nodded again.

Murphy saw the black van coming down Fifth Avenue a block away. “Here we go,” he said. The van made a right turn and stopped. Murphy and Anita trotted across the street and got into the open sliding door, which closed automatically.

“You leave your guns and your phones at home?” Jerry asked.

“Yes, we’re clean,” Anita said. “I can’t see any cops, either.”

“Neither can I.” Murphy turned toward Sixth Avenue.

Jerry handed Murphy two plastic cards. “The keys to your room,” he said, “which is 3625,” then he handed them two pairs of latex gloves. “Put these on now, and don’t take them off again until we’re done tomorrow. Not even in the shower.” He handed them hairnets. “These, too. We’re not leaving any traces. If you smoke, take your butts with you in your pocket when you leave the hotel.”

Down the block, Connor spoke into a handheld radio. “The van is on time. It turned right toward Sixth. Somebody pick it up.” He drove off slowly, so as not to crowd his quarry.

The black van turned right on Sixth Avenue and started uptown. Connor kept well back and two lanes over. “This car is a piece of shit,” he said absently.

“I hope we’ll never see it again after today,” Cohn replied.

They were up to Rockefeller Center when Connor saw an identical black van pull away from the curb and fall in behind the van he had been following. “You see that?” Connor asked.

“I sure do. Which one are we going to follow?”

“The first one, if we can, but I have a feeling they’re going to the same place.”

A block farther north, yet another black van joined the little convoy.

“Jesus, how many people are on this job?” Cohn asked.

Connor spoke into his radio. “We have a total of three identical black vans now. They appear to be sticking together.”

The three vans turned right on West Fifty-seventh Street and proceeded east. “Anybody in the garage?” Connor asked.

“It’s staked,” somebody replied.

“Coming your way.”

A block short of the hotel, Dino sat in his black SUV and listened to the radio channel. “This is looking good,” he said.

The three vans passed his car and he watched as they turned into the hotel garage.

Connor spotted Dino’s car and stopped. “You take the wheel and wait here,” he said to his partner.

“Right.”

Connor got out of the car, trotted over to Dino’s SUV, and tapped on a black window. The window slid down a couple of inches. “Get in,” Dino said. Connor got into the car and closed the door. “Let’s just listen.”

The radio crackled. “The three vans are unloading half a dozen big canvas suitcases on wheels. They’ve waved off the bellhops and are headed for the garage elevator. They’re getting into the elevator—six people and the bags. Doors closing, headed up. I’ll watch for where they get off.”

“Thirty-sixth floor,” Dino predicted. “Dugan came in the front door of the hotel half an hour ago and headed upstairs. Our guy spotted his contact at the front desk. We’ve got a detective on her.”

The radio came to life again. “They got out on thirty-six. The car is on the way down again.”

Dino picked up the microphone. “Okay, everybody’s aboard the ship. Maintain your stations, in case anybody tries to leave. If anyone does, follow him.”

—

M
urphy and Anita got off the elevator with the others and, towing their luggage, walked down the hall until they came to 3625. He slipped the card into the slot, opened the door, and walked in, holding the door for Anita.

She looked around. “Hey, not bad,” she said. “Big room.”

Murphy picked up his bag, laid it on the bed, and unzipped it. “Holy shit,” he said, holding up a black nylon jacket with the NYPD badge embroidered on the chest and the letters
SWAT
on the back. “It’s like Halloween. We’ve got the whole costume—flak jacket, cap, boots.” He checked the sizes.