Silent Night (Sam Archer 4) (28 page)

‘This stays here. Understand?’

‘Of course.’

‘At the end of October, Shepherd was asleep in bed with his wife, middle of the night. Something woke him up. He heard a noise from downstairs. He was burgled at the beginning of the year so he thought they’d come back for another slice. He pulled his nine and crept out. None of the lights were on in the house. He went downstairs and saw a figure dressed in black, holding a gun. Shepherd shot him twice in the chest. Killed him on the spot.’

Josh looked down.

‘Turned out the guy was his son.’

Archer’s mouth opened
. ‘What?’

‘He’d snuck out to go see his girl. The gun in his hand was one of his brother’s toys that the kid had left on the rug. He’d picked it up off the floor to put it away and then Shepherd had appeared and put two in his chest. He was only eighteen.’

‘Jesus Christ. Shepherd killed his own son?’

‘That’s why he took the time off. That’s why he hasn’t been the same since he got back.’

Archer’s mouth was open in shock. He couldn’t believe it.

‘How’s his wife?’

‘She hasn’t spoken to him for weeks. She kicked him out of the house. He’s been staying with Hendricks.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah,’ Josh said. ‘Hell of a thing. Man tries to defend his home, ends up killing his own boy.’

With that the conversation ceased, Archer still shocked at the revelation. Both men sat there in silence.

Then Josh shot his cuff and checked his watch. ‘We should get back downtown.’

‘OK. I’ll be a few minutes behind.’

‘Where you going?’

‘We need a lead. Something more than the campsite.’

‘So where else are you gonna find one?’

‘We never checked out Flood Microbiology, did we?’

Josh thought for a moment. ‘No. We didn’t.’

‘I want to take another look around the lab. See if there’s anything we missed.’

Josh nodded and drained his coffee. ‘Want me to give you a lift?’

Archer shook his head.

‘I’ll walk. Need to clear my head anyway.’

‘Hey! Look who it is!’

Peterson grinned as he walked onto the industrial estate, a taxi behind him pulling away and speeding off into the night. A bonfire was going in the centre of the area, thrash metal coming out of some speakers, bottles of liquor and cans of beer being passed around. Three of the guys walked towards him, shaking his hand one by one. The man in the middle was one of his two companions from the bar in
Hoboken
.

‘You crazy son of a bitch,’ he said. ‘How the hell did you get them to let you out?’

‘My girl posted bail,’ Peterson said, with a grin. ‘Arraignment is in a month.’

The trio laughed, two of them patting him on the back.

‘C’mon, dumbass. Let’s get you a beer.’

Peterson walked off with the trio towards the main campsite. Behind the bonfire, the doors to one of the meth caravans opened. A big bearded guy stepped out; he pulled down his mask, then grabbed a can of Bud and took a swig.

‘Idiots,’ the man beside Peterson said. ‘Cooking product next to our campfire.
Hey!
’

The big guy looked over at him.

‘You want to take that shit somewhere else?’

The cooker gave him the finger and drank some more beer.

During this exchange, Peterson glanced over his shoulder.

But all he saw were old abandoned buildings and dark forestry beyond.

‘You hearing this, OK, Sergeant?
’ came Faison’s voice quietly over the radio.

Sixty yards from the main campsite, hidden in the shadows of the hedge-growth with the members of his team, Hendricks scooped up his radio and answered.

‘Copy that,’ he said quietly. ‘Loud and clear.’

Peterson was wearing a small, imperceptible sticky mic tucked away under his collar. From now on they could hear every word he was saying down there. One of Shepherd’s people had just contacted them to report that the British lawyer had been shot dead at the nightclub before the trade took place. Someone took him out with a rifle. They’d arrested Finn Sway who’d been found near the scene but his alibi had checked out and they’d released him. Shep had wanted to keep him in custody regardless but given that this was an ATF operation, Faison ultimately called the shots. He’d requested that they let Sway go. And so he had.

Hendricks had agreed with that decision. He knew people like Sway. Even if he didn’t kill Jacobs himself, he would have been implicated. And he was involved with this last vial of the virus somehow. Hendricks had heard the briefing and it all made sense.

Looking down at the camp, his eyes narrowed in anticipation. Now, Sway would be twitched knowing the NYPD was up his ass.

All they had to do now was sit back and wait for him and his crew to make a mistake.

It was too cold for Archer to walk all the way up to the lab on 66
th
. Besides, he couldn’t take too long or Shepherd would be pissed. He managed about four blocks, then threw in the towel and hailed a cab.

The journey took a couple of minutes. As the taxi pulled up outside the lab building on
Amsterdam
, Archer saw a lone figure sitting outside on a bench, wrapped up in a dark coat.

Maddy Flood.

She was sitting not ten feet from where her father had died. The point of impact on the sidewalk in front of her had been cleaned up and the team who were here earlier were long gone, all traces of the suicide removed. Archer paid the fare, then stepped out of the cab and shut the door, and the vehicle headed off uptown.

He walked slowly towards her, well aware of the hostility she’d been directing his way all day. He stopped six feet away from her, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat.

‘I thought you were meant to have a detective with you?’ he said.

‘He went to get us some food and I left. I wanted to be alone.’

‘Are you OK?’

She looked at him, then sniffed.
‘What happened to your nose?’

‘Jacobs is dead.’

‘What? How?’

‘The meet at the club was a set-up. They killed him with a rifle.’

She thought about what he said, then looked back at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to take a look around upstairs.’

He watched her closely.

Her anger seemed to have softened a touch. He took a chance.

‘Feel like showing me around?’

Across the street, a man watched the pair walk into the building. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘I checked out the lab. It’s clear. The bitch arrived a moment after I got out. She just went inside.’

‘Alone?’

‘Some asshole is with her. He just showed up. They’re going up together. Young guy.’

‘
Is it rigged up?’

‘It’s been prepared. I used the bug and keypad like you showed me. When they go in the main lab, they’ll die.’

‘Good. Using what’s left and what we don’t need to get rid of her. I like it. Well done.’

‘What about Kruger?’

‘Wicks couldn’t get to him. There were detectives in the corridor outside his apartment.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘No. Won’t be an issue. Get back across the water. I’ll see you at
Kearny
.’

‘Are you OK.’

‘I’m fine. The pigs arrested me but my alibi checked out.’
Pause.
‘Nice work brother.’

*

Flood Microbiology
occupied the 17
th
and 18
th
floors in the building. Once the lift arrived on 17, Archer and Maddy stepped out and walked towards the entrance to the lab complex. Downstairs, the building security had changed to the night shift, but the guy behind the main desk had barely looked up from his newspaper as they walked in.

Up on the 17
th
floor, there was another reception desk but no one was manning it. Straight ahead was the entrance to the lab. The door and the walls were all made of transparent glass, which meant Archer could see inside. It was dark, lit only by faint green and red glows from equipment around the complex, but even in the poor light Archer could see that everything was clean, polished and sterilised. Maddy pulled a key card and swiped them in, pushing the door back.

‘Let’s go to Dad’s office,’ Maddy said, as Archer followed.

She led him all the way down the main corridor, then turned right.
Dr P Flood
was
printed on a gold-coloured tag pinned to the door of a private room. It was already unlocked and she pushed it open. The office was of average size, containing a desk with a comfortable-looking chair behind it. Filing cabinets were standing against the wall to the right beside a series of clothing hooks for lab-coats. Books were stacked neatly on shelves on the wall to the left, medical journals and such, nothing Archer recognised. He moved to the right and pulled open the top drawer of one of the filing cabinets. Everything inside was labelled alphabetically.

‘Did he have a file on the virus?’

‘He did. But he destroyed it.’

‘Paper shredder?’

‘No. Burned. That’s why he was up on the roof in the first place.’

He turned.

‘When we arrived this morning, we saw that all but one of the vials were missing,’ she explained. ‘Then we got a call from one of your people saying that a man had been gassed and killed in
Central Park
. When they described how he died, Dad immediately put the two together and knew it had to be his virus.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He went into a frenzy and started destroying everything. Then I found him up on the roof, torching all his papers in a trash can. I turned my back for a moment and when I looked back he was standing on the edge of the building. Then you and your partner showed up.’

Archer nodded and slid the drawer of the cabinet shut. He moved around Peter Flood’s desk and sat down in the swivel chair. The padded leather gave a slight wheeze as it took his weight, the air decompressing. It was comfy. The desktop was sparse, save for a computer screen and a picture frame to the right. It was a shot of Peter with Maddy on what had to be her graduation day. Dressed in a black gown, a mortar-board on her head, she was holding a scroll. Her father had his arm around her and they were both smiling proudly at the camera.

‘Yale,’ she said. ‘Five years ago.’

Archer’s mind flashed back to the expression on Peter’s face up on the roof. The fear. The red-rimmed, tired eyes behind those thick glasses.

Thousands of people are going to die
.

He looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry about what happened. I mean it.’

‘I know.’

Turning his attention to the computer, Archer grabbed the mouse and gave it a light swivel. The screen flicked into life. No password required. He clicked on Firefox, then went to
Browsing History
.

It was empty.

‘Did he have an email account?’

She nodded and moved around the desk. ‘He used the company one. He wasn’t particularly good with computers.’

Leaning over him, she hit a few keys and the company logo came up beside a username and password box. She tapped the keys again and after hitting
Enter
the screen changed to Flood’s inbox. As she concentrated on the screen, her hair tumbled forward and Archer caught her perfume. He focused on the screen.

Empty.

‘Shit,’ Archer said. ‘He deleted everything.’

‘No. There is something. I realised it this morning. Everyone kind of hurried past it.’

‘What is it?’

‘In his hurry, Dad went to destroy everything. Old files, emails, notes, messages on his phone. He took all the information in his head with him. But in his hurry, he forgot the most important thing of all.’

She looked down at him.

‘Do you want to see it?’

‘See what?’

‘The virus.’

Archer looked at her for a moment, then rose and nodded. They walked around the desk and headed back outside into the corridor.

‘He forgot to destroy the last vial?’

‘He wasn’t thinking clearly. And it was locked away in the freezer. It must have slipped his mind.’

She led them down the corridor, then arrived at a keypad facing what had to be the main lab. The first door led into a small cubicle. There was an ultraviolet glow inside. Maddy saw him looking up at the lighting.

‘Helps show any traces of bacteria on our suits,’ Maddy said. ‘The shower and air-system take care of most of it, but we need to be sure.’