I gave him a quizzical look. Then I handed over my iPhone.
Keller unlocked the touch screen and went into the settings. I watched as he scrolled down, then tapped into my “Password Lock” and entered a four-digit code.
“There,” he said, giving it back. “Good as new.”
Huh? “What was it before?” I asked.
Keller didn’t answer me. He didn’t need to. That’s how he had found me at my sister’s house. The FBI had turned my phone into a tracking device. But how? When? Who had done that?
“Yeah, you were pretty wrapped up in your newspaper that morning,” he said, playing off my expression. I flashed back to the Sunrise Diner and the first time Keller had approached me. “Is this your phone?” he’d asked.
“So, let me guess,” I said. “Because you saved my life, in return I never go public… I never write this story?”
“That’s the basic plan,” he said bluntly. “Especially given one other little thing I ought to mention.”
“What’s that?”
“The story’s not over, Nick.”
Chapter 90
I FELT LIKE a cat must after using up eight lives. In other words, no more messing around. Right smack in the middle of the Pelham Parkway I cut my own deal with Agent Douglas Keller. Keep me alive and the story I could write dies. If I die, the story lives. I would see to that – pronto, I promised him.
“Here’s where I keep my former editor’s number.” I pointed to the number two on my phone. “She’s on speed dial. She’s a better writer, and reporter, than I am. Hard to imagine, I know.”
Keller pinched his lips while nodding slowly. Weird, but I could tell there was a part of him that liked my playing hard-ball. He could relate.
“Okay,” he said. “Deal.” He handled it from there. And faster than I would have thought possible.
By the time he met me at the emergency room of the closest hospital – Jacobi Medical Center – he’d already informed the NYPD that the FBI would be taking over my protection. Two cops had already been murdered trying to protect me. Enough said, enough damage done.
“After you get stitched up here, another agent and I will take you back to your apartment. You’ll have a few minutes to pack a suitcase,” said Keller.
We were in a curtained-off area of the ER, waiting for one of the doctors to show up. Were it not for about a dozen butterfly bandages holding me together, I might have already bled out.
“Once I pack, where do I go?” I asked. “Sorry if I don’t entirely trust protective custody schemes.”
“We’re going to a real safe place outside the city. Trust me on this one, Nick.”
“Where’s that? The real safe place?”
“Now, if I told you, how safe would it be for the next guy?” said Keller.
“What about David Sorren?” I asked next.
“What about him?”
“Does he know you’re taking me to the Batcave? He won’t appreciate that. Sorren can play tough, too.”
Keller cracked a slight smile. It was good to know he had one. “Sorren will find out soon enough,” he said. “If there’s anybody who might be even more concerned about your health than us, it’s the Manhattan DA. Mr. David Sorren needs you alive to prosecute D’zorio.”
“If the devil doesn’t get him first,” came a voice on the other side of the curtain.
Sorren.
He took one look at me as he yanked back the curtain and immediately shook his head. “Man, when this is all over, you’re going to have a hell of a story to write.”
“I guess so. If this is ever over, and if I’m in any condition to write it. Not to mention, if I’m actually allowed to write about any of this.”
I shot a quick, uncomfortable glance at Keller.
Sorren promptly introduced himself to Keller. Then he asked how and why the FBI was involved, the unspoken subtext being How and why is the FBI involved without my knowledge?
Keller didn’t skip a beat. “Bruno Torenzi,” he said.
“Who’s Torenzi?” asked Sorren. “I don’t know that name.”
“Your scalpel-wielding psychotic contract killer. He took out Vincent Marcozza, Derrick Phalen, and two cops.”
“Make that three cops,” I said. “Torenzi showed up at my building to help out Zambratta. He’s the one who shot Officer Brison.”
“This Torenzi… I’m guessing he isn’t from around here,” said Sorren.
“Originally from Sicily. But he’s worked in the States before. We were wondering where he would surface next. Now we know.”
“Do you think he’s got one more assignment?” I asked.
Sorren rubbed his chin. He knew what I was asking. Is Torenzi coming after me?
“That might depend on what’s going on upstairs,” he answered. “D’zorio’s in surgery. He has massive internal bleeding. It’s a coin flip whether he makes it.”
“Which is why we don’t want to take any chances here with Nick,” said Keller, peering around the curtain at the rest of the ER. He sighed impatiently. “Where the hell is that doctor?”
I was getting impatient myself.
Then suddenly my phone rang.
I GLANCED AT the caller ID expecting it to be Courtney. Or maybe my sister. Or anyone else, for that matter. I didn’t expect it to be my niece, Elizabeth.
Especially because she was calling from her Braille cell phone, which she rarely used. “Mom said I’m only supposed to use it in case of an emergency,” she had once told me.
I could hear her saying those exact words as I answered.
“ Elizabeth? Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” she said.
That’s all it took. One word from my niece, the fourteen-year-old girl with the freckles who I’d first held in my arms when she was a mere two days old.
One word.
Something was wrong. Elizabeth has never been at a loss for words. The girl was a total motormouth.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No.”
“What’s wrong, honey? Is it your mom? What happened?”
“Can I come into the city to see you?”
I could tell, or at least sense, that she was fighting back tears. Her voice was cracking. Quivering, actually.
“ Elizabeth, what happened?” I repeated.
I pressed the phone hard against my ear as I exchanged looks with Sorren and Keller. They’d been talking, not paying any attention to what I was saying. Until now. Now both of them were staring at me. Who? Sorren mimed.
“I got into a bad fight with Mom and I’m really upset,” said Elizabeth. “I need to talk to you. You’re the only one I can talk to.”
A fight with her mother? It was certainly within the realm of possibility, I guessed. Elizabeth was a teenager and her mother was… well, her mother. Normally they were the best of friends, but even best friends fight.
So why wasn’t I buying any of this? Probably because Elizabeth wasn’t sounding like… Elizabeth.
“Where are you now?” I asked.
“I had to get out of the house, I was so mad,” she answered. “So can I please come into the city to see you? Please, Uncle Nick.”
“Here’s the deal, honey,” I said. “Any other time I’d probably say yes, but right now is really bad for me. I can’t get into the details, but you may hear about it on the news later.” I paused to put a little extra emphasis on my next sentence. “In fact, maybe you’ve already heard about what happened to me today. Is that true?”
Elizabeth was silent for a few seconds. “No, I haven’t heard anything,” she said.
But it was what she didn’t say – she didn’t ask me what had happened.
“This is what I think you should do,” I said. “You need to go home and try to patch things up with your mom. Whatever it was you were fighting about, I’m sure you both can work it out. It’s going to be okay.”