Henry Wood Perception (31 page)

Mike put the piece of paper back in his pocket, not at all sure what the hell Henry was talking about. Secret lair?

Josh quickly returned with the photographer, a man in his 60’s who had been with the force for around 1000 years. He didn’t believe in walking briskly unless he was lining up for a buffet.

Mike gave a nod to the photographer and said to Josh, “Make sure you two get every angle of the office and especially the bug you found. I'm leaving you in charge.”

The photographer had no idea why this detective was treating the patrolman like he was, but he didn’t care either. He put in a new bulb and popped a shot of the outer office.

“When you get done here, I want you to write up a full report and seal off the office.”

“What about the cat?”

“His bowl is in the corner; give him some more food and check his water.”

Buttons said, “Meow,” and went and stood by the bowl.

Josh’s shoulders drooped. He felt like a rookie again.

The photographer laughed, and Mike closed the door on his way out. He walked down the hall until he got to Bobby’s door. A quick look behind him, and he slipped inside. He had never seen the jungle that was Bobby’s office and had no idea what to make of it all. Fortunately, he was tall enough to see over the pile of Life magazines and notice the phone near the door to the back office. He picked up the receiver and dialed Henry’s number. It rang once.

“Hello,” Henry said cautiously.

“What is this about a secret lair?”

“Hey, Mike, I’m glad you called. I’ll explain it all later; right now I need to get off the phone. We think we know where the shooter, Jack, went afterward. The guy who saw Pytor shoot the lumber baron, John Fleming, is coming in, and he may know where Jack went.”

“What?!” Mike almost shouted, “You know who murdered John Fleming?” His tone was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry Mike. I should have told you. He came to me a couple of days ago, but he was out of his mind. I went to meet him, and he wasn’t there. I wasn’t sure he was credible. I’m still not, but he says he saw Jack leave after the shots, and he followed him. Mike, Celine is missing and I’m afraid he is going to use her to come after me. We need to find Jack.”

The near panic in Henry’s voice was all Mike needed to get on board. He knew his friend wouldn’t keep something so important from him unless it was necessary. “Okay, what do you need from me?”

Henry gave him the address of the phone booth. Mike agreed to check it out and call him when he got there. Henry hoped that William would be able to give them something more concrete to go on.

Henry hung up and waited for the next call, which he hoped would be Jack making his next move.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Pytor asked, “Why are we bothering with Richard and Charles?”

Jack sneered, “It is above your pay grade.”

Pytor had just dined with Nikita Khrushchev and Alexander Shelepin.
Who does he think he is?
Pytor fumed to himself. The mission had been clear when they set out. The two deep undercover agents were to be in charge. Oleg and he were there to make the operation run smoothly. Pytor didn’t imagine he would be so young. He expected a more experienced agent or, at the very least, one whose entire experience didn’t consist of working for the CIA.

“So you want me to drive to Richard’s place now?”

“I thought you were supposed to be one of our best agents? Do they teach ‘stupid’ questions at the KGB? It’s a good thing they are bringing me home; it seems there needs to be a serious evaluation of personnel and policy.”

Pytor suppressed his anger.
We will see who is evaluating whom,
he thought. Pytor drove along without saying another word but replaying the events of the evening in his mind. He was building quite a list of ill-advised moves by his young comrade.

Jack kept playing his date with Celine over and over in his mind. He had been incredibly charming. She had looked beautiful. The conversation had been sharp, and, by the end of the meal, he was quite looking forward to the night that lay ahead. They had gone dancing and afterward he suggested, none too subtly, a little romance. She had flatly refused, saying something about wanting to get to know him. For thirty minutes he pressed, and she resisted. Eventually, he saw her to her building door and was rewarded with a spectacular kiss. Then she went inside alone. He was furious. When Gilbert found out and then proceeded to mock him, it made him insane with rage.

Now, as Pytor drove towards Richard’s penthouse apartment, Jack was deciding if he should torture him just to feel better. He looked briefly at Pytor, knowing he would say something about torture not being necessary for the mission. He hated him for it. It was his call after all, and he doubted Pytor would ever say a thing against him. He smiled to himself.

CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE

The strange man with the gun had untied Celine’s hands after setting the omelet, bacon, and juice on the table. She said thank you but wasn’t sure if he heard her. He acted like he didn’t. She stared at the food for a minute, afraid it might be poisoned but reasoned he was the sort of man to look one in the eye. She was hungry and sobbed as she ate.

Celine had last cried when she was eight. Her neighbor, Mr. Jackson, was a nice black man in his 80’s. He told stories and let her help him with his garden and plants. Every day during the summer she helped him water the outside plants, then they would take care of the indoor ones. After that they ate cookies. She really loved the indoor ones; they were called bonsai. He had kept some of them for over 50 years. One day, she knocked his favorite one over, and it fell to the ground. The fall broke off one of the big limbs, and dirt was everywhere. She felt so awful and tried to put the tree back together. Mr. Jackson came in from the kitchen and saw the tears streaming down her face. “It’ll be alright, little one; never you pay it no mind. This tree is a strong one, just like you. It’ll be fine.”

She stopped crying when he asked her to but still didn’t feel any better. Celine went home and told her mother what she had done and the tears started up again. Despite her best efforts, her mother couldn’t make Celine stop. She was proud of her daughter for admitting what she had done. Eventually, she took Celine back to Mr. Jackson’s house, and they brought him a new plant. Celine tried to explain that it wasn’t the same thing, but Mr. Jackson said he loved it. Mr. Jackson sat Celine down and they talked but not like they usually did. He looked her in the eyes, like he did with the grownups. He had told her how it was okay to be sad but to save her tears for the really important things.

Celine’s feet were still tied to the bed, but he hadn’t come back to retie her hands. She lay there, sobbing, with the pillow over her face. Celine worried about dying, then she thought about Buttons and cried more. He was probably wondering where she was and why she hadn’t gotten his dinner. Somehow, letting down Buttons seemed worse than dying.

In the other room, Oleg wondered about the woman. He had seen trained agents beg for their lives when they knew the end was upon them. All men fold when staring eternity in the face. He wondered why she was trying so hard to hide it.
Such a strange thing, this American woman
, he thought as he cleaned his other gun. It didn’t matter.

CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

Henry became more and more agitated as the minutes rolled past, and the phone said nothing. He paced and worried. Finally, it rang. “Hello.”

“Henry, I've been calling you all night. You're still at work? Trying to solve the case of the blonde bombshell?!”

“Hello, Luna, it isn't a good time.”

“It doesn't seem like you have much time for me anymore.”

“Listen, Luna, I'm expecting a call. I really need to get off the phone.”

“It's the middle of the night! Who's calling now?” Luna’s voice was getting louder with each question.

“Luna, it's Celine. She’s missing.” Henry said, not trying to hide his worry.

There was a brief silence. “Oh, Henry, I'm such a fool. I didn't know. What happened?”

“I think it's a new guy she's seeing. He's a bad guy, and I think he's trying to get back at me.”

“For what?" she asked, her voice lowered.”

“It's a long story and I really have to go.”

“Call me as soon as you hear anything.”

Henry was annoyed with Luna but mostly with his helplessness.

The heavy door opened. “We found him.” Bobby said cheerfully, carrying a bag with sandwiches. William strode past Bobby and Lawrence and surveyed the room.

“What is this place?” William asked as he stared up at the domed ceiling.

Henry looked at the disheveled man who stood before him. He looked like a bum. “You can have the tour after you tell me what you saw.”

"I haven't eaten in a while." William looked at Bobby who handed him a sandwich. William tore opened the paper and bit into the ham on rye, his eyes closing with joyful satisfaction. After horsing down another bite, he said, “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What happened from the moment you saw Jack leave my building?”

In between bites, William described how he had found himself outside Henry's building for most of the day, trying to get up the nerve to go in. Finally, it got late, and he didn't have anywhere to go, so he just stood there smoking. He saw the man greet the other two, watched them cross the street and enter, and saw the flashes. Only one man came out. William gave a somewhat edited account of how he had ended up following the man, leaving out the part where he got frightened and walked the other way only to accidentally see him again.

“What happened after he went into the building?”

“He was in there for a while. I was going to leave and call you, but I was afraid he might leave again. I decided to watch for a while to see.”

“How long has he been in there?”

“Oh, he's not there now.”

Henry wanted to strangle him. “So you saw him leave?”

“Yes, a while before I called you.”

“How long?”

“They broke my watch the first night.” William looked at his wrist and gave a sigh.

“What?”

“I slept in a spot I thought was safe, but two guys robbed me. My watch broke in the fight. I guess that is why they didn’t keep it.”

Henry had seen broken men before, but William was worse than most. On another day he would have pitied him, but this wasn't another day. “It's important you focus, William. The man who shot those two agents is a bad guy. We need to find him and then you can go back to your old life.”

His old life seemed a long ways away, but the thought hit home. “Yes, sorry. I'll try. Go ahead; ask me what you want to know.” He set the sandwich down and looked straight at Henry.

“Did you see anybody else in there with him?”

“Not really, but I saw the curtains move after he left. I couldn't see who it was, but someone looked out.”

“That's good, William. Now give me your best guess, how long has it been since he left?”

“A couple of hours, three tops.”

The phone startled everyone. Was this the call Henry had been waiting for all night?

CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

“Hello, Mr. Wood. I'm surprised to find you at your office at such an hour. I expected you would be home or possibly arrested.”

Henry held his hand up, and everyone knew who was on the other end. The room was deafeningly silent. The man on the other end had been clever enough to infiltrate the CIA; he wasn’t to be taken lightly. Henry decided to play it straight. “Arrested? I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.”

“Don’t be coy with me, Mr. Wood. Your building is crawling with cops after the little incident earlier. I saw you in the window watching us cross the street.”

Playing it straight hadn’t worked. But did he know Henry suspected he had Celine? He gave a shrug, “Yes, I know it was you who killed the other two agents. What I don’t understand is why. Care to clue me in?”

There was a pause. Perhaps Jack had given this detective too much credit, then he decided he hadn’t. “There is no need to play dumb with me, Mr. Wood. You figured out more than the entire New York Police department could about Daniel Kupton’s death. You are a clever man…for an American.” The hatred and disgust for America had been building up his whole life and now he would finally get to tell someone what he had thought all these years.

Henry could tell that Jack was living out a moment he had rehearsed in his head over and over for a long time. “Okay, so I got it right. His death wasn’t a suicide. Was it you who pushed him?”

Jack was trained to not give away intelligence, but, in this case, it didn’t matter. The man listening wouldn’t be around to tell anyone, so those rules didn’t apply. “Yes, I threw the bastard out of the window. He thought he could threaten me and get away with it. He was mistaken. Daniel found out who the real client was, and he guessed I was the inside man. We had planned to get rid of him anyway, so I tossed him out of the window and watched him fall screaming like a little girl. He was such a coward.”