Frank turned and knelt beside Jack, helping him to sit up. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the blood on Jack’s neck, holding it to help stanch the flow of blood. “Jesus, are you OK?”
Jack nodded in reflex without thought of his condition. He finally looked up at Frank, looked into his friend’s eyes, his voice hoarse, his throat raw. “I remember.”
Frank stared at him. “What?”
“There was someone else there with me last night.”
“Can you remember what they look like, a name, maybe?”
“No.” Jack shook his head. “But whoever it is… he scares me.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got an even bigger problem. You sure this is the guy who drove you off the bridge, who kidnapped Mia?”
Jack nodded.
Frank held up the man’s billfold, letting it drop open to reveal a badge and an ID that made Jack’s blood run cold.
Steven Gallagher was FBI.
CHAPTER 20
Cristos entered the room and laid a new silver tray of food and tea on the table before Mia, picked up the tray of tea and the now-empty plate, and handed it to a man at the door, who quickly departed. They were once again sealed in.
“How dare you!” Mia raged as she shook the picture of her children. “My children have nothing to do with this.”
“I see we found our voice.” Cristos’s tone was calm and proper, like a nanny speaking to a child. “Your children are fine. I have not touched them, nor will I. Provided you help me.”
“You killed my husband,” Mia finally said, her eyes filled with anger. She was not going to give this man the satisfaction of crying, letting him see her pain, seeing her weak. “They’re going to find me. The whole world of law enforcement is going to come down on your head.”
“Actually,” Cristos said in feigned sympathy, “the only place they are looking for you is at the bottom of a river.” He picked up a newspaper from the silver tray and placed it before Mia, the headline screaming out the deaths of her and her husband.
Mia sat there in shock. What was stopping them from killing her now?
“I have a very simple question,” Cristos said. “Where is the evidence case?”
Mia stared at Cristos.
“I know that you removed it from the FBI and hid it in the evidence room of the Tombs.”
“How would someone like you know that?” Mia said, channeling her pain into anger.
Cristos stood and walked around the small room. He rubbed his fingers together as he stared off in thought before finally looking back at Mia. “I want you to look at me,” he began as he took a seat next to Mia. “Where in the evidence room of the Tombs is the case?”
Mia stared at him, defiant and silent.
“Where is the case?” Cristos’s voice was barely above a whisper as his dark eyes began to bore into her.
Mia continued staring, her silence taunting him.
He leaned forward into her face; she could smell the odor of cigarettes and wine on his breath. Their eyes were inches apart as he mouthed the words, “Where is the case?”
Mia stared back, but instead of answering, she did the one thing that she did when confronting an adversary, be it her father, her husband, or a suspect.
She simply gave a false, vindictive smile.
Cristos exploded, all refinement melting away, the veins and tendons in his neck distended and throbbing. “ Where is the case?”
Mia had gotten to him. Without a single word, she had unearthed the madman beneath the silk and wool facade.
Suddenly, his hand shot out, grabbing her around the throat, while his other hand grabbed her by her hair. His trembling rage radiated down his arms, through his hands, and into her.
He slowly began to squeeze just enough to send a message that he could snap her neck with his bare hand. Her face began to redden, and although she tried not to react, fear rose into her eyes.
“Tell me where the case is, or this is what I will do to your children.”
There was a knock on the door. The lock was released, and it opened. A dark-haired man no more than thirty, dressed in a suit, popped his head in. “You need to come here, right now. You’re not going to believe this.”
CHAPTER 21
As Jack exited the subway tunnel onto the street, the bright sun temporarily blinding him, he became aware of something he hadn’t realized earlier. His senses had grown acute. His vision seemed more focused, colors more vibrant, he was cognizant of all of the sounds around him, not just the white noise of the city but also the subtle characteristics that made it city noise: car horns, a bus’s pneumatic hoses exhausting air as its doors opened, the chatter of pedestrians as they walked the street, hailed cabs, and sang off-key tunes with their iPod ear buds in. He could smell the Hudson just a few blocks away, the smell of exhaust, of street-cart souvlaki and warming pretzels. He could see the expressions in people’s faces, their happiness and pain, their lust and greed, as if their intentions were written on their skin. It was as if his body had just come out of a major tune-up that accentuated his very being.
Jack knew at once what was happening. While the accident had jarred his head, affecting his memory, these symptoms were unrelated to that. They were exactly what Dr. McCourt had said might occur and that when they did, he needed to get to the hospital right away.
But that was the last place he planned on going.
As they walked out through the subway tunnel, Frank demanded that Jack stay away from the Tombs to avoid risking anyone else seeing him. He took the north-side exit and headed off to grab the car, saying he would be back within ten minutes to pick him up.
On top of that, Frank had said it was time to get some real help. While it appeared that Mia’s kidnapping might be some inside job involving rogue members of the FBI, that didn’t mean that he and Frank didn’t have their own people they could trust. Jack wasn’t sure, though; beyond Frank and Joy, he trusted no one and wasn’t about to put Mia’s life in any further danger.
As Jack continued down the street, he flipped up his collar, tucked his head, stooped his shoulders forward, and disappeared inside the Friday crowd. He was glad he was in the city, where the true New Yorkers kept to themselves and paid little attention to their city brethren. Jack loved the urban jungle cliche. To an outsider, it was mysterious, alluring, and frightening, with unfamiliar creatures lying in wait to pounce on unsuspecting prey that strayed from the light. But to those familiar with its confines, it was wondrous and friendly, filled with magic and life.
Maintaining heightened caution, with his senses on overdrive, he soon realized that someone else was already watching him. Jack moved across the street, using the plate-glass windows of a Barnes amp; Noble to catch sight of the man’s reflection. He saw the large man fall into lockstep a block back.
Without a thought, Jack quickly ducked into a deli and took a seat in the back. There was no one there except two men behind the counter. He turned to watch the door. The wound in his shoulder suddenly felt as if it was on fire. The pain had been on and off throughout the morning but seemed to grow as the day went on.
“Hello, Jack.”
He was shocked to see the man who had been nearly a block behind him standing there; he was heavy-set, with a receding hairline. Jack didn’t know whether to run or strike, as he was trying to comprehend how the man was so quickly upon him.
“I’m not a threat, Jack. Please relax. I just need to talk to you.”
The man put his right hand up in supplication as he took a seat across from Jack.
“That wasn’t a smart thing, chasing that guy down.” The man’s voice was sympathetic as he admonished Jack like a longtime friend.
Jack continued to assess the man before him as friend or foe, thinking that either way, he might be able to help him move one step closer to Mia. “Who are you?”