Delaney nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I’ve thought of that. So what’s your answer?”
Fernandez took a sip of brandy, then looked up.
“Let me take him, Captain,” he said softly.
Delaney set his brandy glass on the desk blotter, poured himself another small portion of that ambrosia, then carried the bottle over to Fernandez and added to his snifter. He returned to his swivel chair, set the bottle down, began to drum gently on his desk top with one hand, watching the moving fingers,
“You?” he asked Fernandez. “You alone?”
“No. I got a friend. The two-”
“A friend?” Delaney said sharply, looking up. “In the Department?”
The lieutenant was astonished. “Of course in the Department. Who’s got any friends outside the Department?”
“All right,” Delaney nodded. “How would you handle it?”
“The usual,” Fernandez shrugged. “We go up to his apartment and roust him. He resists arrest and tries to escape, so we ice him. Clean and simple and neat.”
The Captain sighed, shook his head. “It doesn’t listen,” he said.
“Captain, it’s been done before.”
“Goddamn it, don’t try to tell me my business,” Delaney shouted furiously. “I know it’s been done before. But we do it your way, and we all get pooped.”
He jerked to his feet, unbuttoned his uniform jacket, jammed his hands in his hip pockets. He began to pace about the study, not glancing at Fernandez as he talked.
“Look, lieutenant,” he said patiently, “this guy is no alley cat with a snoot full of shit, that no one cares if he lives or dies. Bum a guy like that, and he’s just a number in a potter’s field. But Danny Boy is somebody. He’s rich, he lives in a luxury apartment house, drives an expensive car, works for a big corporation. He’s got friends, influential friends. Chill him, and people are going to ask questions. And we better have the answers. If it’s done at all, it’s got to be done right.”
Fernandez opened his mouth to speak, but Delaney held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Let me finish. Now let’s take your plan. You and your friend go up to brace him. How you going to get inside his apartment? I happen to know that guy’s got more locks on his door than you’ll find in a Tombs’ cellblock. You think you’ll knock, say, ‘Police officers,’ and he’ll open up and let you in? The hell he will; he’s too smart for that. He’ll look at you through the peephole and talk to you through the locked door.”
“Search warrant?” Fernandez suggested.
“Not a chance,” Delaney shook his head. “Forget it.”
“Then how about this: One of us goes up and waits outside his door, before he gets home from work. The other guy waits in the lobby until he comes in and rides up in the elevator with him. Then we got him in his hallway between us.”
“And then what?” the Captain demanded. “You weight him right there in the corridor, while he’s between you, and then claim he was trying to escape or resisting arrest? Who’d buy that?”
“Well…” Fernandez said doubtfully, “I guess you’re right. But there’s got to-”
“Shut up a minute and let me think,” Delaney said. “Maybe we can work this out.”
The lieutenant was silent then, sipping a little brandy, his bright eyes following the Captain as he lumbered about the room.
“Look,” Delaney said, “there’s a doorman over there. Guy named Charles Lipsky. He’s got access to duplicate keys to every apartment in the building. They hang on a board outside the assistant manager’s office. This Lipsky’s got a sheet. As a matter of fact, he’s on probation, so you can lean on him. Now…you hear on the radio that Danny Boy has left work and is heading home. You and your friend get the keys from Lipsky, go upstairs and get inside Blank’s apartment. Then you relock the door from the inside. So when he comes home, unlocks his door and marches in, you’re already in there.”
“I like it,” Fernandez grinned.
“When the time comes I’ll draw you a floor plan so you’ll know where to be when he comes in. Then you-”
“A floor plan?” the lieutenant interrupted. “But how-”
“Just don’t worry about it. Don’t even think about it. When the time comes, you’ll have a floor plan. But you give him time to get inside before you show yourselves. Maybe even give him time to relock his door so he can’t make a fast run for it. He’s sure to relock once he’s inside his apartment; that’s the kind of a guy he is. Then you show yourselves. Now here’s where it begins to get cute. Can you get hold of a piece that can’t be traced?”
“Oh sure. No trouble.”
“What is it?”
“A Saturday-night special.”
The Captain took a deep breath, blew it out in an audible sigh.
“Lieutenant,” he said gently, “Danny Boy makes fifty-five big ones a year, drives a Stingray, and wears silk underwear. Do you really think he’s the kind of guy who’d own a piece of crap like that? What else can you get?”
The “Invisible Man” thought a moment, his teeth clenched. “A nine-millimeter Luger,” he said finally. “Brand-new. Right off the docks. Never been used. Still in the oiled envelope.”
“What kind of grips.”
“Wood.”
“Yesss…” Delaney said thoughtfully. “He might own a gun like that. But the brand-new part is no good. It’ll have to have at least three magazines fired through with a complete breakdown and cleaning between firings. Can you manage that?”
“No sweat, Captain.”
“And it’s got to be banged up a little. Not a lot. A few nicks on the grips. A little scratch here and there. You understand?”
“Like he’s owned it for a long time?”
“Right. And took it on those mountain climbing trips of his to plink at tin cans or some such shit. Now here’s something else: keep the box or envelope it came in, get the right cleaning tools and some oil-soaked rags. You know, the usual crap. This stuff you turn over to me.”
“To you, Captain?”
“Yes, to me. All right, now you and your buddy are inside the apartment, and the door is locked. You’ve both got your service revolvers, and one of you has also got the used Luger. It’s loaded. Full magazine. As soon as Danny Boy is inside his apartment, and has locked the door, you show. And for God’s sake, have your sticks out. Don’t relax for a second. Keep this guy covered.”
“Don’ worry, he’ll be covered.”
“Don’t say a word to him, not a word. Just back him toward the bedroom door. You’ll see where it is on that floor plan I’ll draw for you. Now this is where you’ve got to work fast. As soon as he’s in the bedroom doorway, or near it, facing you, weight him. Make it fast, and-this is important-make certain you both ice him. I don’t know how good a friend this pal of yours is, but you’ve both got to do it. You understand?”
Fernandez smiled slyly. “You’re a smart man, Captain.”
“Yes. Now you’re working fast. He’s down, and for Christ’s sake make certain he’s gone.”
“He’ll have enough weight in him to sink him,” the lieutenant assured him. “He’ll be a clunk before he hits the floor.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Delaney grunted. “Now, the moment he’s down, one of you-I don’t care who it is-straddles his body, facing in the direction he was facing just before he bought it. And then-”
“And then we fire two or three shots from the Luger into the opposite wall,” Fernandez said rapidly. “Where the two of us was just standing.”
“Now you’re catching it,” the Captain said approvingly. “But it’s got to be done fast-so that if anyone hears the shots, it’s just a lot of shots, no pauses. No witness is going to remember how many shots were fired, when, or in what order. But just to play safe, the Luger should be fired into the opposite wall as soon as possible after you’ve iced him.”
“I’ve got it,” Fernandez smiled. “Two of three shots into the wall. Not too high. Like he really was firing at us.”
“Right. Splinter a couple of mirrors if you can. That opposite wall is full of mirrors. Then what do you do?”
“Easy,” Fernandez said. “Wipe the Luger clean. Put it in his hand and-”