He looked up. 'Schofield, my man, what are you trying to sell me?'
'These gentlemen would like a word with you.' He turned to them. 'Dr Bryant graduated top of his class from Harvard Medical School. We're lucky to have him. Do bear that in mind, won't you?'
'Oh, Clarence,' Bryant said. 'Stop stroking me. Now what is this?'
So Parker introduced himself and Blake, got rid of Schofield, and told him. Parker said to Bryant, 'You know something about this, I know you do.'
'Okay, I'm thinking about it.'
Blake said, 'I'll get you some coffee.'
'Tea, man, tea. I spent three years at Guy's Hospital in London, got a taste for it. English Breakfast.'
Blake got the tea, and returned to find Bryant crumpling an empty cigarette pack. Blake took out his Marlboros. 'I thought you doctors were against tobacco?'
'Are you denying me my rights?'
'So let's get to those really lousy early morning shifts and someone called Jean Wiley coming in off the street. What was that problem?'
'Her face had been cut, not too badly, but by a knife unmistakably.'
'Did you ask for details?' Parker said.
'Of course. She said she'd slipped and cut her face in the kitchen.'
'Balls, would you say?' Blake asked.
'No, bollocks they would say in London. Her face had been cut by a knife. I did some excellent embroidery work, she gave us her insurance information and left.'
'Okay,' Parker said. 'If she gave her insurance details, they'll have it on the computer. We can get her blood group that way.'
'No need for that,' Bryant said. 'I remember it.' They looked at him, and he seemed to blush slightly. 'I've seen her around a few times, in the same coffee shop for lunch. Nick's Place around the corner. She's... well, she's attractive.' He shrugged and grinned. 'Anyway, she's a B.'
Parker checked his watch. 'Lunch just coming up.'
Bryant hesitated, and repeated what Schofield had said earlier. 'Hey, there's such a thing as the doctor-patient relationship here.'
'There's also such a thing as a double killing up the street just before she came in here. This is important, doc. The NYPD doesn't put police captains out on shit cases, and neither does the FBI.'
'She's not much more than a kid. You're not saying she killed anybody?'
'No, I'm not,' Blake said. 'But to use a fine old police phrase, in pursuance of our inquiries, we need to cross her off the list.'
'Okay,' Bryant said wearily. 'I'll show you who she is. But take it easy on her, huh?'
'This is the new police department,' Parker told him. 'We're trained for sensitivity. Now let's get going.'
Nick's Place was small, tucked away in a side street, three guys behind the counter rattling away at each other in Greek as they handled short orders and one of them made fresh sandwiches. It was warm and muggy, and because of the rain, the windows were partially steamed up. Bryant peered inside.
'I can't see any sight of her.'
'Okay, so let's stand over here and wait,' Parker said.
'I've got patients,' Bryant said, as they stepped into a shop doorway, and then he stiffened. 'Hey, there she is, crossing the road. The small, dark girl in the blue raincoat. Black umbrella.'
Jean Wiley put the umbrella down and went into Nick's Place. 'Nice legs,' Bryant observed.
'Yes, well, remember your concern over the doctor—patient relationship,' Parker told him. 'Thank you very much, Dr Bryant, you can go now.'
'If you need me, you know where to find me.' Bryant walked away, pulling up his collar.
Blake and Parker moved to the window of Nick's Place and peered in. The girl had taken coffee and a sandwich on a tray and moved to the back of the room to a booth. It was still early and there were few customers.
'How do we play this?' Harry Parker asked.
'Good guy/bad guy shouldn't really be necessary. Let's say you're a nice big avuncular cop doing your duty with deep
regret, and I'm Mr Nice Guy Fed. But remember one thing, old buddy,' Blake said, 'I'm in charge. I'm the one who decides what happens to her.'
'The more I find out about this business, the more I'm happy to know it isn't my responsibility,' Parker said. 'In we go.'
Jean Wiley was eating a chicken sandwich with salad, and reading a paperback novel at the same time. Blake noticed it was Jane Austen's Emma. She glanced up, a slight frown on her face.
'May we join you?' Parker said.
'I'd have thought there was plenty of room elsewhere.'
'I think you'd better say yes,' Blake told her gently.
Parker flashed his gold badge. 'N YPD, Captain Harry Parker. My friend here, Mr Johnson, is with the FBI.'
'We think you might be able to help us,' Blake said. 'It relates to a double shooting last week.'
Her face said it all. It seemed to crumple, went very pale. 'Oh, my God.' She aged right there in front of them. 'I need the bathroom.'
'Sure you do,' Harry Parker said. 'Only don't go trying the back door. I know who you are, so I'd have to send a squad car, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't like that.'
She gave a dry sob as she got up, knocking over her coffee cup. She ran to the back of the coffee shop and one of the men came from behind the counter, a cloth in his hand, all belligerence.
'Hey, what gives? She's a nice kid. You can't come in and interfere with my customers.'
'I can close you down if I want.' Harry's gold badge appeared again. 'Police business.'
'The young lady witnessed a crime,' Blake said. 'We just need a few questions answered.'
The man's attitude changed completely. 'Hey, I'm Nick, this is my place. You want some coffee?'
'Great,' Parker told him. 'That's what I like - cooperation.'
The girl returned in a few minutes, still pale, but composed. There was a hint of steel there. This was no bimbo, Blake was certain of it. She sat down, and sipped some of the coffee Nick had brought.
'Right, what do you want?'
'A few details. Jean Wiley, am I right?' Parker said. 'Twenty-four?'
'So?'
'That's a neat scar on your left cheek. It'll fade with time, but it could make you look interestingly different.'
She was angry, her eyes dark. Blake said, 'What do you do?'
'I'm an associate at Weingarten, Moore just round the comer. I got my law degree from Columbia two years ago, so I know my rights, gentlemen.'
'Hey, why are we being nice here?' Parker appealed to Blake and turned to the girl. 'You want to tell us how your blood got on to the shirt of a murdered man?'
That really jolted her. She turned to Blake, startled, inquiring, and he said, 'Look, why fool around? Last week, two lowlifes were shot dead in an alley a few blocks from here, sometime after midnight.'
'The thing is, one guy was blood group A and the other O,' said Parker.
'Except there were traces of blood group B on his shirt,' Blake said.
'Which obviously got there when he cut your cheek,' Parker told her. 'Probably as he held you and you struggled. I'm right, aren't I? Those two grabbed you as you walked past.'
Her face was wild now, her voice low. 'Bastards. Dirty rotten bastards.' She took a deep breath and sipped some coffee, her hand shaking. 'It's a nice story, Captain, but I know my rights and I'm saying nothing.'
'Hell, a DNA check would say everything.'
Blake saw it all now, saw it as it must have been. It all came together. Dillon at Wapping in the Thames staring up at Tim Pat Ryan and certain death, and saved by the woman, the unknown executioner who had taken out the Sons of Erin one by one.
'They intended to rape you, perhaps murder you,' Blake said softly. 'You struggled, you were threatened with a knife, your face was cut, and then a woman walked out of all that darkness and rain and shot them dead.'
Parker turned to him, frowning. 'What is this?'
But it was the girl who was most affected, total shock on her face. 'How did you know that?'
There was total stillness between them. Blake said, 'Sometimes these things are like a jigsaw. You keep getting nowhere and then all the pieces fall into place and there it is, the complete picture.'
Even Parker was gentle now. 'Tell us about her, honey.'
'I can't,' she said. 'I'd rather die than see anything happen to that woman.'
She was shaking. Blake turned and called to Nick. 'Can we have a brandy here? You carry that? Good. And fresh coffee, some of that black Turkish stuff?'
She got her purse open, fumbled out a pack of cigarettes and dropped them. 'Damn!' she said. 'I'm supposed to have stopped.'
'You, me and everyone else I know.' Blake got out his Marl-boros, lit one and passed it to her.
'Just like Now Voyager.' She laughed nervously.
'Yeah, he's really a very romantic guy.' Parker took the brandy from Nick and passed it to her. 'Get that down.' She did as she was told, coughed once then reached for the coffee. 'Best fix in the world,' Parker added. 'And it's legal.'
'And here's something else that's legal,' Blake told her. 'Some-
thing they probably only whispered about in your law courses.' He passed her the presidential warrant.
She read it quickly and looked up at him in awe. 'My God.'
'Which means that you could tell Captain Parker here that you killed those two guys and he couldn't do a thing about it.'
She glanced at Parker. 'He's right, honey,' he said.
She nodded and it was as if she was looking back into the past. 'You've no idea what it's like, you men, when you're a woman in a really bad situation. It's the worst thing in the world.' She shuddered. 'So dirty, so foul. It's like the end of everything.'
'And then a guardian angel descends?' Blake suggested. 'Tell us about it.'
'I was on a date that went wrong, a guy who lied, didn't tell me he was married. We were having supper at this Italian place a few blocks away, late supper after a show. He got drunk, let slip the fact that he had a little woman at home and a couple of kids. I ended up walking out.'
'And you couldn't find a cab?' Parker said.
'It was after midnight, but more than that, it was raining like hell, and when can you get a cab in Manhattan when it's raining?'
'So you started walking?' Blake said.
'In all my finery. I had a small umbrella, but I still got soaked. I was so angry, just storming along in a kind of rage, and then I passed this alley and there were voices shouting and then I was grabbed, hustled inside. One guy held me, the other cut my cheek with one of those spring blade knives.' She shuddered deeply. 'They kept saying what they were going to do. The language was foul.'
'And then she appeared?' Blake asked.
It was as if they weren't there, as if she was talking to herself. 'It was unbelievable. Her voice was so gentle. She told them to let me go. I could see her standing there in the entrance to the alley. One of them was holding me from behind and the other
shouted at her, all threats, I can't recall the exact words, and he made a move, I think, and her hand came up with a hat on it and she shot him through the hat.'
'A big explosion?' Parker asked.
'No, sort of a muted sound.'
'A silencer.' He nodded. 'And the other?'
'He tried to use me as a shield, he had a knife, but she shot him in the head over my shoulder.'
Parker turned to Blake. 'I'll tell you one thing, she must be good to risk a shot like that. And then there's the silencer. You were right, Blake. A pro in a way I hadn't realized.'
Blake said, 'Tell me about her.'
'That was the strange thing. She was a real lady. Could have been late sixties. She wore a rain hat, a trenchcoat, carried an umbrella. Her hair, what I could see of it, was white.'
'Her face?'
'Don't ask me to go through the photos. It would be a waste of time. I didn't see enough of her to make a positive identification, and I wouldn't.'
'That's okay,' Blake said. 'I wouldn't ask you to. There's a lot to this that you'll never know, matters of national security. This is not a case that ever comes to court. The two guys she shot are just two more on a list of New York street killings never solved.'
'So I won't be pulled in or anything?'
'Absolutely not.' He turned to Parker. 'Please confirm that.'
