"Lundin? He isn't nice."
The name was Fredrik Anders Lundin. Aged thirty-two. A history of juvenile crime followed by two sentences for armed robbery. Sandwiched between them was one for murder, but he had been released on appeal. There was information that since coming out after serving three years of the second rap for armed robbery, Lundin was offering his services as a contract killer. He was currently under police surveillance (the file claimed), presumably in prospect of putting him away for a long term, rather than some token sentence for the charge of intent.
"It says you have tabs on him."
Lieutenant Eastland said in his slow-speaking way, "You're one hundred percent certain this is the guy?"
"Absolutely."
"You saw him meet with Mrs. Tanaka and the kid in the airport parking lot?"
"Lieutenant, I was as close to him as I am to you right now."
"Okay, we'll pull him in."
"How?"
Eastland gave a shrug that said English detectives were dense. "That's what patrols are for."
"Look, this isn't a simple arrest," Diamond pointed out. "This man is a killer. He's abducted a child. Her safety is paramount. You send two patrolmen in and people could start shooting."
"What's your advice, then-a stakeout?"
"He's already under surveillance, according to this."
"Don't believe everything you reaa in records," Eastland cautioned. "Surveillance could mean we have a guy who watches him play pool a couple of nights a week."
Diamond couldn't be certain how much of this laid-back attitude was the New York detective's insulation against the dangers out there on the streets. He was in earnest, and he meant to leave nothing to chance. "Lieutenant, you asked for my advice. I'm suggesting some subtlety is necessary. I don't think you should attempt to arrest him in the room where he's holding Naomi. That's putting her in real danger.
"Mr. Diamond, I'm deeply obliged to you," said Easdand, affecting an English accent with about as much success as Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. "Let's take a jolly old spin out to Queens where the gentleman resides and be subtle. I assume you want to be on the team."
Diamond wasn't amused by the sarcasm, but he accepted an offer from Sergeant Stein to ride in his car. When they emerged from the Midtown Tunnel, the afternoon was drawing on. Some of the streetlights were switched on.
"Do you carry a piece?" Stein asked at some point on the journey.
"No."
"Is that light-mat English cops go unarmed?"
"Generally, yes."
"Didn't you ever need one?"
"Not up to now." He could have added that he was notoriously cack-handed, that in his possession a gun would go off when it was least expected, like now, from the jolting he was getting. The seat had no springs at all that he could discern.
Stein commented, "Me-I'd have been dead five times over without my automatic."
The area they were driving into was neither the best of Queens, nor the worst. The turn-of-the-century tenements had probably been smart addresses when they were built. The fire escapes that fronted them were still festooned with evidence of the warm afternoon that had just come to an end: canvas chairs, pot-plants, bedding, beer cans, take-out boxes.
A patrolman flagged them down on a street corner. "You can't drive past here. The suspect has a view of the street."
"Which side is his apartment?" Stein asked.
"The right."
"Anyone sighted him yet?"
"No. But there's a light."
"So we could get lucky."
They got out and joined Lieutenant Eastland and two more detectives, who had pulled up behind. A third car of uniformed officers had arrived from another direction. Eastland used his mobile radio to make contact with people already in position closer to the apartment. Then he issued orders. He wasn't messing now, and Diamond formed a better opinion.
"We're getting good cooperation from the people in the adjoining apartments," he told Diamond presendy.
"Have they seen the child?"
"Sorry, but no."
"Or heard her voice?"
"Nobody mentioned it yet."
"Maybe the walls are too solid."
"Could be."
"So what's the plan?"
"We can afford to wait awhile," said Eastland. "With luck, he may come out for food in the next hour, and then we grab him. You want to go closer?"
"Why not?"
Stein was told to accompany him. Like two local residents walking invisible dogs, they strolled along the sidewalk until they were level with number 224, where the lighted second-floor windows gave promise of Fredrik Lundin being at home. Any chance of a sighting was forestalled by Venetian blinds. Even so, it wasn't wise to linger. A finger's-width gap between the slats could give a clear view of the street.
They walked almost to the end of the block before stopping. Stein offered his pack of cigarettes.
Tempted, Diamond remembered that he was supposed to be a nonsmoker now.
Stein's personal radio crackled. Eastland's voice asked, "See anything?"
Stein reported back, "Light at the window. Blinds. First floor in darkness, apparently unoccupied. Front door looks easy. Want us to go in?"
"Not yet."
"The problem with this," Stein confided to Diamond when he'd switched off, "is that if Lundin gets suspicious, we could have a siege on our hands."
It was a risk Diamond was willing to take, in spite of the fact that darkness was setting in rapidly.
"Sieges can be heavy on manpower," Stein explained. "We don't let them happen."
Three cigarettes later, the radio broke the silence. "Okay, we can't wait all night for this jerk," Eastland announced. "You and Diamond can enter by the front and occupy the first-floor apartment Be ready to go upstairs as soon as the suspect is flushed and separated from the kid. Check?"
"Check, Lieutenant," said Stein.
Diamond had an impulse to wrench the radio from him and urge Eastland not to provoke a shootout, but cold reason told him it wouldn't alter anything. This was Easdand's operation, and with half his men looking on he wasn't going to take instructions from a limey detective. It was some reassurance that he'd expressed some intention of separating Lundin from Naomi.
He and Stein returned up the street towards 224. It was much darker by now and the front wasn't well lit. They could barely see their way up the stoop to the door. Stein put a hand in his jacket, evidently feeling for the grip of die gun he wouldn't be without He nodded to Diamond to try the door. It opened easily.
No sound came from upstairs. They were in a wide hallway with stairs facing them. Halfway along, on the right, was the door of the apartment where they were supposed to take up position. Diamond gripped the handle. Was it too much to hope that this door, also, would be unlocked? It was securely fastened. Probably a well-aimed kick would resolve the matter, but only at the risk of disturbing the entire house.
Fortunately Sergeant Stein had come prepared, with the strip of plastic known to housebreakers and policemen as the indispensable aid to easing latches aside. He used it confidently, the door opened inwards and they stepped inside. Warm air wafted over them, reeking of cheap perfume and body odor. Just like a knocking-shop, Diamond found himself thinking-a thought that lingered and lodged more firmly when he heard a female voice murmur sleepily but without alarm, "Hey, who is it? What time is it?"
A sofa creaked and something stirred. The woman who had been lying mere said, "Is there one of you, or two?" She got up and moved unsteadily towards a table lamp. "I'm not taking two-not together. Sorry, guys. One of you has to wait"
Her hand was on the lamp.
"Leave it," said Stein in a stage whisper.
She started to say, "What the fuck-" before Diamond moved fast towards her and clapped a hand over her mouth. She struggled, and he had to grab her round the back. She was wearing some kind of silk wrap that made her slippery to hold, because she was obviously naked under it His terse, "It's all right, we're police officers," was not a message calculated to reassure a lady of her calling, but it was the first thing to come to mind.