Wake the Devil (21 page)

A
fter helping Beth to her feet, Jack ran to the railing and looked over, expecting to see a body floating below him. Water lapped against the rocks, but there was no sign of Thomas Courtney at all. Beth, Ray Price, and Todd Milner joined him. Price was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. They all stared over the edge in disbelief.

“Where the hell is he?” Milner asked. “I put at least four rounds in him.”

Jack shook his head slowly and said, “I saw him go over. Have everyone who can stand spread out and start looking. I want to see his body.”

Miraculously, apart from minor injuries, no one had been seriously hurt. The explosions were caused by a home-rigged bomb planted in a nearby trashcan and were mostly light and noise. Police and firefighters had already begun to arrive. Blue lights and sirens were closing in from all directions. New Yorkers, unfortunately, were all too familiar with the emergency scenario.

Along with the other agents, they scoured every inch of the shoreline. Milner seemed particularly upset. Courtney’s disappearance was surreal. At one point, a street cop, seeing the FBI letters on Price’s jacket, approached him and said their switchboard had lit up with calls about a terrorist attack.

“It’s not,” Price said. “You guys certainly got here fast enough.”

“Not really. The first call came in about five minutes ago.”

Frustrated, Jack slammed the safety rail with the flat of his hand. Courtney had planned his escape. What he couldn’t understand was
how he’d survived four bullets to the chest. If the cop was correct, the first call had preceded the explosions by at least two minutes. His intent was obviously to create chaos. That was consistent if nothing else.

*

Aided by the police, a boat and divers went into the water and continued their search. Milner took charge running from one point of the park to the other to check on their progress. A tan raincoat was recovered floating in the harbor near the park’s farthest point along with a bulletproof vest that showed multiple hits. A city-wide BOLO went out. Airports, bus terminals, and train stations were put on alert. Jack examined the bullets’ spread pattern on the vest for a moment and frowned. He hadn’t known the Bureau was using hollow-point bullets now. Hollow points were designed to maximize stopping power and tissue damage. He pushed the thought aside. It was more important to find the body, or how he’d escaped.

“No way that bastard’s getting out of the metro area,” Price said. “Everything’ll be sewn up tighter than a drum.”

Jack wasn’t so sure about that. The man had vanished before their eyes.

“It’s not possible,” Beth said.

Milner looked grim. Price shook his head, as confused as everyone else there.

“What about Rachel?” Beth asked.

“At the hotel with two agents and a city cop we drafted. We’re checking anyone who comes off the elevator. Detective Stafford’s watching over things.”

After two hours, the search was called off. The intention was to resume it in the morning, when the weather might be more cooperative. Todd Milner elected to stay downtown and join the cops when they started again. A chill rain continued to come down in the dark. They were all tired and soaked to the bone. Jack had lapsed into one of his silences. He separated from the others, walked to where the Coast Guard sailing ship
Eagle
was docked, and stared up at the masts. Beth watched him wondering what was going through his mind. She finally joined him and touched his shoulder to say they
were leaving. At first she thought he hadn’t heard her, but he came out of his trance and nodded.

On the ride back to the hotel, she asked him to explain why he was in New York.

“When we found the listening device at Dr. Lawrence’s office, or I should say the office next door, I realized whenever Rachel let them know where to reach her, she was also letting Courtney know. It was concealed in the ceiling tiles.”

“So why didn’t you call and tell me that instead of scaring me to death?”

“Because I couldn’t.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. There a reasonable chance Courtney’s tapped into our cellphones.”

“You need specialized equipment and the provider’s cooperation.”

“
Needed
. I was curious about what projects and weapons Sergei Borov was involved with, so I started checking. Eventually, that led me to the Department of Defense. Turns out Borov is in talks with them about licensing a new technology that makes accessing cellphone conversations quite easy if you have a computer, Wi-Fi, and the right software. Unfortunately, Borov’s also in talks with a number of other governments and people we don’t want to have this technology, like North Korea and ISIS. It explains why Donofrio and the White House have a full-court press on.”

Beth still didn’t look happy. “Jack, you could have found some way to get word to me. You managed to contact him,” she said, pointing to Ray Price.

“After the fact, and I used a pay phone. You know how hard it is to find a pay phone in New York these days?”

The look he received could have frozen water. She was right to be upset, but the circumstances hadn’t allowed him any latitude. Price chose to keep his attention on the road and stay silent.

She looked at the dark pea coat and watch cap he was wearing and asked, “That was you following me through the streets?”

“It was.”

“And you lurking around the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t call it lurking, but yes, that was me.”

“So why didn’t you take Courtney out when you had the chance?”

“Because of his partner. He or she is a wild card we need to account for. Either of them could be the doer. We know he used one in Spain and at least two in Atlanta—”

“What do you mean, at least two?”

“Think about it. The safehouse location wasn’t a matter of public record. I mean you can’t just look it up in the phone book. It’s unlikely the two men flying those models knew enough to supply that information. According the ATF interrogators, one’s a wino and the other’s a junkie. In other words, they’re shills, or at least part shills.”

“Which means someone in our department gave him the address . . . dammit.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m not opposed to transferring Rachel to federal custody. It might plug the leak. If Courtney’s still alive, and I have to assume he is, he’s not going away. Wind him up, point him in the right direction, and he just keeps coming.”

“You’ve stopped him three times now, Jack,” Price pointed out.

“I’ve stopped nothing,” Jack snapped. “At most, I’ve annoyed him.”

“Still, he’s got to be pretty pissed.”

“Which is what concerns me.”

Beth had gone quiet listening to the exchange. They were passing through Herald Square, which was teeming with people. Large red shopping bags were everywhere. Macy’s had already decorated their windows for the holidays. Each year it seemed to happen a little earlier. It was one of her favorite seasons and the first Thanksgiving she would spend with Jack as an engaged couple. She’d called her folks from the airport in Atlanta to give them the news. They were delighted and immediately invited them to visit and spend the holiday. The conversation with her mother brought a smile to her face. She sounded like a young girl yelling for Beth’s father to get on the line. Slowly the smile faded, replaced by another thought.

She said, “There’s something strange going on with Thomas Courtney.”

Jack twisted around in his seat to face her. Price made eye contact in the rearview mirror.

Beth continued, “This was the third time he could have killed me but didn’t. When I was coming toward him, he held up his hand for me to stop. A few yards more and I would have been inside the bomb’s blast zone.”

“Why do you think he hesitated?” Price asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe I do,” Jack said. “Courtney’s sister was named Elizabeth. She died in a fire at their home, possibly one Courtney himself set. I’m speculating of course, but it’s possible he’s experiencing some kind of transference where Beth is concerned.”

“Meaning he associates Detective Sturgis with his dead sister?”

“Perhaps not on a conscious level,” Jack said. “Transference is a mechanism that works below the surface in someone’s mind. If that’s the case, we should be grateful.”

Beth said, “I think he knew I could have taken a shot at him, but I held off.”

“Why?” Price asked.

“Green light or not, he wasn’t showing a gun. Only that cellphone. Who the hell was he talking to?”

“The unseen partner,” Jack suggested.

“Tell you what,” Price said. “If you find yourself in a life-or-death situation with him again, use his hesitation to your advantage and blow the bastard into next year.”

T
he water had been numbingly cold. It took Wesley almost thirty minutes to stop shaking. His chest was bruised and sore from where the bullets had hit him. Better sore than deceased. Thank God for body armor. He glanced at the dead officer staring up at him from the floor and continued to rub his arms and legs with a towel to restore some circulation to them.

Through the ship’s cabin window he watched as police swarmed the ferry, assuming he would use it to escape to Staten Island. That was the original plan he decided on during the flight up. But a chance berthing of the brigantine
Eagle
changed that. It was in town for the holiday flotilla. Unfortunately, the hospital had been too well defended, and his time was too short. On top of everything else, Kale the magician had shown up and was actually stalking him. Amazing. Wesley rubbed his arms some more and shivered.

It was Sunday and the ship’s complement was at a minimum. Thanks to the weather, everyone was below decks or away on shore leave. Only a skeleton crew remained.

A short distance from the
Eagle
were two more ferries. One went to the Statue of Liberty and one to Ellis Island. He decided on the latter. The museum was indoors and would give him a chance to think. This was the third time Kale had frustrated his efforts. It felt like the man was reading his mind. Too much to hope he’d take him out at Mary Quinn’s house. Still, it was worth the try. Time to do something about him.

He picked up a tie and decided against it. Officer or not, it was the weekend and casual dress was the order of the day. Just another visitor to the great hall millions of immigrants had passed through. It was a fine, grand country. Light of the modern world. Wesley looked out the cabin window at the four minaret towers wondering if anyone from his hometown had been through there. It was odd, every year the memories of where he had grown up seemed to fade just a little more. He tried to recall the name of the street where his best friend had lived and couldn’t. Only his visions of the orphanage remained clear. In his mind, his cellphone buzzed as he was putting on his white cap with the gold officer’s braid.

Well, boy-o, that was close, wasn’t it?

A little. It wasn’t possible to attack the hospital directly. There were too many of them.

I’m given to wondering, Thom, are you goin’ soft on me?

If you mean the girl, why complicate things? Killing for the sake of killing makes no sense.

Eliminate the competition, son. Eliminate the competition.

She’s not competition.

Might you have feelings for her?

That’s ridiculous, Father. We don’t know each other.

Just askin’, boy-o. Just askin’. To thine own self be true.

If she becomes an issue, I’ll deal with her.

I know you will, son. Where do we go from here?

Jack Kale, Father. Jack Kale.

Wesley disconnected, found a raincoat and an umbrella in the officer’s closet, pulled the cap low on his head, and left the cabin. On his way to the top deck, he actually had to return the salute of two cadets returning from shore leave. Their eyes focused on the gold lieutenant’s insignia on his shoulder. Amazing, really. His hand relaxed its grip on the K-Bar knife in his coat as he passed them. Once outside, he opened the umbrella and walked briskly to the boarding line for the Ellis Island Ferry.

P
rice dropped Jack and Beth at the Plaza and informed them of the additional security he had put in place. Three more agents had been brought in. All of them had been issued photographs of the Sandman. Another uniformed cop would come on duty at midnight and stay till nine
AM
.

Price looked around the lobby and shook his head. “Shame you have to stay in such poor accommodations. Don’t give any thought to me driving back to my lonely little apartment in Kew Gardens.”

“Sometimes you have to take one for the team,” Beth said.

“Don’t I know it. What time tomorrow will your plane be ready?”

“We’re supposed to call. I hope it’s late,” Beth said, taking Jack’s hand.

“Milner and I came in on the FBI’s jet,” Jack said. “We can just—” He broke off what he was about to say as Beth’s fingernails dug into his palm. “Uh . . . stay here and get a good night’s rest and start fresh in the morning.”

Price looked from one to the other. “You sure you’re not married yet?”

Beth smiled sweetly at him.

“Right. See you both around ten o’clock. Late enough?”

“Late enough,” Beth said.

As soon as Ray Price had taken his leave, the expression on Jack’s face changed. He took Beth by the elbow and said. “Come with me.” She was so shocked by the sudden shift that she allowed him to lead her to the grand ballroom on the next floor. It was empty. As soon as
they were inside, Jack shut the door and turned to her. “What you did earlier was not only reckless, it was dangerous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. This is the second time you went after Courtney alone.”

“Jack, there wasn’t time and I did call for backup.”

“After the fact! Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“What?”

“You heard me. It was a stupid rookie move. You simply cannot operate like a cowboy and go charging off after the bad guys. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing, I—”

Jack knocked an old centerpiece off the nearest table and sent it flying across the room. “I won’t have it! I’m halfway inclined to take you off the case.”

They’d had arguments before, but she’d never seen him like this. Nor could she ever recall him raising his voice to her. The rookie reference rubbed the wrong way.

“Rookie? You’re the one who’s acting like a cowboy. You could have found some way to call me. I just told you I didn’t have time—”

“Bullshit! I can’t do what I do, worrying myself sick you might be killed. He led us into another trap. Thank God he’s half nuts or he’d have blown you up when you got too close.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I sure as hell do. And you do, too. I want you to promise this won’t happen again.”

Beth took a breath to calm herself and looked around the ballroom. He had a point. She could have called for backup several times in the first few blocks to say she was in pursuit. But she was angry about what happened at Stone Mountain and still embarrassed by it. Nailing Courtney would have gone a long way to curing the problem. But she didn’t want to admit that right now. She’d gotten mad first and now he was angry at her.

Jack took her by the shoulders and turned her around. “Beth, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you won’t do that again.”

“Which one?”

It broke the tension. Jack was struggling to be stern and not really succeeding. She could always make him laugh.

“Promise me,” he repeated.

“I promise,” Beth said in a small voice. “I’ll try not to do it again. But you’re not getting the ring back.”

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “As long as I get you back.”

*

True to his word, Ray Price had security already in place in the hotel. Rachel’s room was just down the hall from Beth and Jack’s. Dwayne Stafford was directly across the hall from her. Even so, he agreed to check every four hours and make sure everyone was awake and on their toes. In addition to the FBI, two uniformed cops were on duty at each end of the corridor. All the officers were instructed not to discuss who was in the room and Rachel agreed not to tell her office or mention the location they were staying in on her cellphone. So far, so good.

Satisfied that everything was under control, they said goodnight and headed for their rooms.

When they entered theirs, Beth looked around, nodded her approval, then rang for the valet to have her clothes cleaned and pressed. She informed Jack she was taking a bath.

“You won’t have anything to wear . . . except that bathrobe,” Jack said, as Beth pulled two matching robes out of the closet. “I knew that. I was just testing you.”

Beth giggled, kissed him, and left her clothes in a pile on the floor.

Jack waited until the water was running before he picked up the phone and ordered room service: a hamburger and fries for himself and a Caesar salad with grilled chicken strips for Beth along with a side of edamame. He then called the concierge and asked him to find a flower shop who’d deliver a dozen red roses. In all the excitement, there hadn’t been time to celebrate their engagement. Figuring the Bureau accountant would go nuts if he put any of those charges on his expense account, he gave them his credit card.

After hanging up, he located a mini-bottle of scotch in the minifridge, found an Andrea Bocelli selection on the music channel, and sat down to relax. Outside large raindrops bounced off the windowpane turning Fifth Avenue and its never ending stream of lights into a moving impressionist rendition. Below him, people passed each other like anonymous ships in the night on an ocean of concrete.

Try as he might to think about other things—pleasant things, like Beth and the opulent room they were in with its lovely black marble fireplace—his mind returned to the Coast Guard yacht. Had the police searched it thoroughly? What about the adjacent ferries?

The Sandman wasn’t a sorcerer and hadn’t suspended the laws of physics, so disappearing into thin air was out. There were only so many places he could hide. The man’s vanishing act confounded him.

Slowly, he reviewed what he knew about ships, their soaring masts, myriad lines, and the shapes of the hulls. Without realizing it, his heart began to beat harder. A moment later, his vision blurred and his breath went short.

*

Beth found him on the floor trying to reach for the bottle of pills on the dresser. She’d seen his panic attacks several times, and they were frightening because they had the appearance of a heart attack. She ran to the dresser and opened the bottle, shaking out a single pill. Jack had a tendency to gulp down two or three at a time in an effort to relieve the crushing pressure in his chest, something he’d been battling against at his NA meetings. A small bottle of scotch lay on the floor, its contents drained out. Beth hurriedly filled a drinking glass with water and helped him sit up.

Two months earlier, without telling him, she’d gone to his doctor and asked how to handle the attacks. Without getting into the specifics of his illness, Morris Shottner explained the general mechanics to her. They both hoped after their battle with the serial killer earlier that year, the attacks would decrease and eventually disappear. Apparently their optimism was premature.

Beth was still holding him twenty minutes later wishing she knew how to fight the demons that tore at his mind. Slowly, the pill began to take effect.

Jack blew out a breath and shook his head. “Whew, that was a good one.” He seemed unable to meet her eyes.

Beth pushed his hair off his forehead. “All right now?”

“I think so,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Don’t you have any idea what causes them?”

That was always the question, and one he’d obviously never found an answer to. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about because the attacks were an embarrassment to him. Beth was waiting for an explanation. He took a breath and told her about the painting in Connie Belasco’s house and about his dream of being on the ship that appeared in it with her. He left out that, occasionally, Beth would take her place. He didn’t know what that meant.

“You think seeing that big ship at Battery Park had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know. The easiest answer is yes, but when I looked at the brig, I remembered Connie’s painting and had no reaction to it. Then this hits out of the blue. You sure you want to marry me?”

Beth shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She smiled and kissed him. He’d said “out of the blue,” but she’d seen him staring at the ship, transfixed. How could that brilliant mind of his miss something so obvious? Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of room service. The episode began to fade.

When they sat down to eat, Beth frowned at the hamburger and fries Jack had ordered for himself.

“We’re at the Plaza Hotel and you order a burger and fries?”

“I like them.”

Then her eyes happened to fall on the bill, saw it was seventy-three dollars, excluding the roses, and nearly had a panic attack of her own. She shook her head.

“You should really try eating healthy, honey.”

“This is healthy, a nice mixture of yellow and brown,” Jack said. “Very balanced.”

“Try this,” she said, passing him an edamame pod. “You might like it.”

He remembered someone saying the same thing about his first marriage. He chewed the pod without enthusiasm. It had no taste. Beth seemed encouraged.

“And you should try more salads. I want you to live a long time.”

“It’ll seem like a long time if I have to eat this stuff.”

Beth responded with a look. He raised his hands in surrender and promised to expand his food selections in the future.

“Good,” she said, taking a fry off his plate. “Do you really think Courtney associates me with his sister?”

“It’s probable. He didn’t hesitate to kill Ed Mundas or shoot Dwayne or anyone else for that matter. Obviously, there’s something special about you. I, of course, know that, but it’s good to keep it in mind. Like Ray Price said, that knowledge might save your life.”

Beth nodded thoughtfully, then asked if Jack had told his daughter they were engaged. Her ability to switch to a different subject on a dime never ceased to amuse him.

“Not yet,” he said, checking his watch. “She should be home now. How about if I give her a call?”

Morgan answered on the second ring and responded to the big news in typical teenager fashion, saying, “Oh, cool.” She then asked to speak with Beth who had a more animated and prolonged conversation with her. Part of which included an invitation to meet Beth’s family over the holidays.

Jack wasn’t certain when he lost control of the situation, or if he ever had control in the first place. His worries about how his daughter would take the news evaporated. Judging from Beth’s end of the conversation, she was clearly excited.

While they were talking, he walked to the window and looked out. They were high enough to see the South Street Seaport and Maiden Lane in the distance. Another sailing ship was tied up there, now functioning as a museum. He wondered if it might be the one in Connie’s painting. She’d died because he had let his guard down with Howard Pell. He shook his head. He should have been there to protect her. Images of her body mutilated almost beyond recognition forced their way up from the farthest corners of his mind. Images he could never forget.

The rain continued to beat against the window and trees in Central Park. In the street, he could see people hunched over, holding newspapers and briefcases above their heads as they walked. Rachel Lawrence had done nothing to merit the hand she’d been dealt. Despite the pain she was in, she had acquitted herself nobly in his opinion. He swore a silent oath: the Sandman would not have her.

Thus far, the contest between them had been deadly, and one that he was determined to end. There were enough two-legged monsters walking the earth. By increments, Jack was beginning to understand the engine that drove Thom Courtney. More important, he perceived in it a weakness he could exploit. They’d failed at the safehouse, or more accurately, he had failed. That wouldn’t happen again. He picked up the hotel telephone and placed a call to the FBI’s equipment and tech center. When that was done, he placed another call to their field office in Phoenix.

The conversation with his daughter ended with Beth sending a video of their room and her ring over her cellphone. When he asked what they had been talking about for so long, she replied, “Boys.”

“Oh, you mean that Josh kid she mentioned the other day?”

“He’s history.”

“How? They haven’t had time to make history.”

Beth shrugged. “Morgan’s excited about a new boy she met on their class trip, or maybe it was two boys. I forget because she was going so fast.”

“I see. How did her trip go?”

“Fine. Mostly she wanted to talk about your ex and her new boyfriend. The guy sounds like a jerk.”

“Really?”

“She asked again if we’d talked more about her moving back to Atlanta.”

“I’d be delighted, but how would you feel?”

Beth was quiet for a moment. “If that’s what she really wants and she’s thought it through, tell her as soon as the wedding’s over she can start packing.”

*

Later, when they were in bed, Beth folded herself around him, throwing one leg on top of his and one arm across Jack’s chest. Both were exhausted and sleep was coming quickly. So many thoughts were bouncing around in her head: getting married, starting a new family, keeping Rachel safe, and Jack’s outburst earlier. She conceded he had a point but something else was bothering her. Well, not bothering exactly. It was more like an unanswered question.

“Did you love her?”

Jack’s eyes opened. She was referring to Connie Belasco.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s all right if you did.”

“I know. But I didn’t. Connie was a sweet kid who I was supposed to show the ropes to. Instead, I let Howard Pell turn her into a freak. I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance.”

“You didn’t
let
him do anything. Pell acted on his own. He never asked for your permission, Jack.”