Fifth Ave 02 - Running of the Bulls (36 page)

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Deep in shadow and halfway down the street, where he was concealed behind the back of a Mercedes SUV, Spocatti watched the front door of Peter Schwartz's building open slowly before Spellman rushed out the building with Maggie Cain close behind him.
 
He could see their guns in their hands.
 
He knew they would shoot if provoked.

They came down the steps crouched low.
 
When they hit the street, they intentionally slammed their backs against one of the cars parked curbside.
 
The alarm went off, Spocatti looked up to see people coming to their windows or closing their curtains, and when he looked back, Spellman and Cain already were in flight and near the end of the block.

He watched them flag a cab, saw them snag one on their second try and then they were gone, fast into the night.

Spocatti wasted no time.

He ran across the street, entered Schwartz's building, took the staircase to the second floor.
 
He called out Carmen's name and came face-to-face with her when he entered the room he'd left her in.
 
When he saw her, she was standing with her back to the window, her gun raised and pointed at his face.

"Why did you leave me?"

He came toward her, knowing that time was running out and that they needed to leave.
 
"I had no choice.
 
She shot me.
 
She ran after me shooting.
 
I had to run or I would have been killed.
 
You would have done the same thing."

She looked at his arm, saw what must have been a flesh wound given the absence of significant blood, but nevertheless kept her gun as steady as she could on him.

"What did she do to you?" he asked.

"She threw a bronze bookend at me.
 
It hit me in the kidney and I went down."

He kept moving in her direction.
 
"Why is there blood on your forehead?"

"I fell, Vincent.
 
Guess what hit the floor first?"

"Put down the gun," he said.

"I'd rather blow your fucking head off."

"Just put down the gun."

"I should take you out now for leaving me here."

"I didn't leave you.
 
I came back for you.
 
I can't do this alone."

"Bullshit."

Maybe
, he thought.
 
But what he heard in her voice now wasn't so much anger as it was ego, and that was enough for him.
 
He kept moving toward her just as, in the distance, the faint wail of police sirens started to sound.
 

"We need to get out of here," he said.
 
“Those sirens are for us.”
 
He reached out a hand and lowered the gun.
 
"We have to trust each other.
 
If we don't have that, both of us will be dead."
 
He cupped the side of her face with his hand.
 
"I didn't have to come back.
 
You saw what happened.
 
I don't know where she learned to shoot like that, but she's no amateur.
 
We can't forget that."

And with that, Carmen holstered her gun.
 
"There are others on our list tonight," she said.
 
"We'll chalk this up as a botched job and move forward."
 
She moved quickly past him.
 
“Unless you want to get caught, I suggest we get out of here.
 
I need to clean your arm and bandage it before we start again."

They hurried out of the room, down the staircase and left the building.
 
Outside, well down the street, a police car was speeding forward, its sirens mixing with the sound of the car alarm.
 
Together, they moved to the end of the block, turned it and kept going at a steady pace.

"Who's next?" she asked.

He told her.

"Good," she said.
 
"I need a little theater."

CHAPTER THIRTY

9:14 p.m.

In the cab, Marty told the driver to take them to the Tarot Cafe on Prince.
 
Then, he leaned back against the seat and was quiet while the driver shot down Fifth.
 

He needed to call four people, beginning with either Katie or Beth, but his phone was busted.
 
He asked Maggie if he could use her cell, she gave it to him, he dialed and listened to the phone ring.
 
Maggie looked out at the city, her gun in her lap, the side of her head against the window.
 
He put his hand over hers and motioned for her to conceal the gun, which she did.

Beth answered on the third ring, music blasting in the background.

"Hello?"

"It's Dad.
 
Turn down the radio."

"Radio?
 
God, you’re old.
 
It's my iPod."

"Whatever.
 
Just turn it down.
 
I need to talk to you."
 

She turned off the music.

"Is your mother home yet?"

"She won't be home until midnight.
 
She said ten, but she always says ten.
 
It'll be midnight.
 
And then they'll be moaning and groaning all night long, as usual, which already wants to make me barf.
 
Katie said something about a dog.
 
Are we getting one?"

"Not tonight," he said.
 
"There was a mix-up, but that will be cleared up soon.
 
I need you to listen to me."

"You need me to listen to you after you deliver that shitty news?"

"Beth," he said.
 
"This is important.
 
It's as important as anything I've ever said to you and I need you to do as I say and do it quickly."

Maybe she sensed the urgency in his voice or maybe she was just playing nice so they'd get a dog, but there was a pause before she spoke again, and when she did, her tone was serious.
 
"I'm listening."

"Are the Moores home?"

"Of course, they're home.
 
They never go anywhere.
 
I finished watching a movie with Andrea about an hour ago.
 
Why?"

"I need you to take Katie and go down and stay with them.
 
I need you to call your mother and say one word to her--blue.
 
You don't need to know what it means, but she will and that's what matters.
 
Call her now, get Katie, lock the apartment and go down to the Moores immediately.
 
Say the same word to them.
 
They'll also know what it means and then I need you to listen to them and do as they say."

"Are we in some sort of trouble?"

"Not if you do as I say."

"Then, we are in trouble.
 
Why are you scaring me?
 
Why are you acting weird?"
 

"I'm not trying to scare you."

“Then what’s wrong?”

He couldn't answer that without alarming her more than he had.
 
And if he lied to her now, what good was he to her?
 
“It’s complicated,” he said.
 

“It has to do with us,” Beth said.
 
“That’s obvious.
 
I think we have a right to know.”

She resembled her mother and also had inherited her mother’s tenacity.
 
He closed his eyes and tried to keep his voice calm.
 
"I really need you to cooperate with me right now, okay?
 
Can you just do that for me?
 
I need you out of the apartment in five minutes."

There was a long hesitation before she agreed.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too, Dad."

"And I'm sorry if I’ve scared you."

"That dog better be cute."

She severed the connection and Marty stared at the phone.
 
There was fear in his gut, but long ago, he and Gloria had devised a plan to keep the family safe in situations such as this.
 
Gloria and the girls lived in a large building.
 
If Beth did as she was told, they'd be safe.

This time it was Maggie who reached over.
 
She clicked the phone shut and put her hand on his.
 
"Are you all right?"

He moved his hand away.
 
"You and I will talk when we get to the cafe."
 
He opened the cell and dialed Jennifer Barnes.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"It says it's Maggie Cain."

"I'm borrowing her phone.
 
Are you at Carra Wolfhagen's?"

"I've been here since eight, when we agreed to meet.
 
Why aren't you here?"

"I'll tell you everything later, but I can give you an exclusive now.
 
Peter Schwartz is dead.
 
His throat was sliced and now his body is home to a whole host of things you don’t want to see.
 
If you want the scoop, I'd run with it now for the 11 o'clock newscast before someone else does.
 
You’ll find him at his house.
 
He's been dead for awhile, so be prepared.
 
Wait for the police to arrive before you go anywhere near his house.”

"I'm on it."

"Did you hear me?"

"I won't go near the house.
 
I'll wait for the police."

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

"One last thing.
 
Are the Wolfhagens home?"

"Carra left about an hour ago.
 
A limousine arrived and she left the building with a young, really built guy.
 
A few minutes ago, I saw Wolfhagen pacing in front of one of the upstairs windows."

"I need you to get out of there now," Marty said.
 

"You don't need to tell me twice."

"What was Carra wearing?"

"That's a bizarre question."

"Things are getting bizarre.
 
Wait until you have a look at Schwartz."

"She was wearing a black cocktail dress."

"Nothing else?"

"It's still in the 80s and humid as hell, Marty."

"What about her escort?"

"A black suit."