Uzi came around the edge of the car to get a look at the shattered windshield then craned his neck toward the buildings. “Gotta be in front of us, two o’clock.”
DeSantos was taking his time, scanning the rooftops. In the background, Vail heard men yelling, calling out orders.
“Not likely the municipal building or city hall — security’s too tight and I’m sure they’ve been checking rooftops. Not saying a sniper can’t get in, but if we’re looking at most likely scenarios …”
“I don’t see anyone,” Uzi said. “One shot. He had his shot, took it, and missed. He’s gone.”
DeSantos straightened up tentatively, eyeing the vicinity. “I agree.”
The calls of “all clear” were heard as the law enforcement officers of multiple agencies moved back into the streets, some heading for the neighboring buildings to close off the exits and execute a thorough search.
Good luck with that. The municipal building alone is a block long and forty stories tall.
The three of them continued to scan the rooftops as they talked.
“Is it a stretch to think I was the target again?” Uzi said.
DeSantos holstered his handgun. “I was thinking the same thing. If we’re right, it’s safe to say they were serious about the threat they pinned to that woman’s chest.”
Vail leaned back against the nearby car. “Can’t say for sure the bullet had your name on it, but it’s the most obvious. Especially after what happened in Times Square.”
Uzi pulled a toothpick from his jacket pocket and ripped it from its cellophane wrap. “Let’s get out of here, go visit my father. See if we can get some answers.”
As they headed back to Uzi’s Tahoe, he could not shake the thought that, once again, only one person knew for sure that he was en route to the crime scene. Well, two: Knox and Mahmoud El-Fahad. Could Fahad have tipped both snipers that Uzi was going to be onsite?
As he mulled this disturbing thought, he pulled out his key fob and hit the unlock button.
The SUV exploded skyward, blowing glass and metal and rubber in all directions.
The three of them hit the pavement nearly simultaneously, instinctively covering their heads with their hands in an almost useless gesture.
Car alarms blared in all directions as men and women came running toward them.
“They’re seriously pissed at you, Boychick.”
“Ya think?” Uzi pushed himself up and yawned twice, trying to restore his hearing.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Vail said, pulling on her ears, “but maybe you should go back to DC, lock yourself in your house and not come out till we catch these bastards.”
Uzi dusted off his leather coat. “Not gonna happen.” He looked around. “But we are going to need a new ride.”
30
They arrived at the home of Roey Uziel just after 4:00 PM. They had borrowed a Chevy Suburban from the New York field office motor pool then headed toward Roey’s residence.
Despite their repeated questions about what had caused Uzi’s relationship with his father to deteriorate, Uzi refused to discuss it — nor did he want to call ahead to see if his dad was at home. Vail knew the two things were related — but she did not need her detective skills to reach that conclusion.
As they pulled in front of Roey’s apartment house in Greenwich Village, Uzi shoved the gear lever into park and sat back in the seat. “After Dena and Maya were killed, I withdrew from everyone and everything. It was a really tough time. You know that. But I didn’t even talk to my father. I should have, but I didn’t. I couldn’t talk to anyone.”
He turned away and stared out the driver’s window. “Anyway, I never returned any of his phone calls. He came to my house once and I was home but didn’t let him in. I’m pretty sure he knew I was there. Time passed and I never contacted him. He tried once or twice a year later, but by the time I was able to talk about it, I was embarrassed that I hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. I can’t explain it.” He glanced at Vail. “I’m sure you can. If I’d had the chance, I probably would’ve eventually discussed it with Dr. Rudnick.” Uzi popped open the door.
“We all make mistakes,” Vail said. “But he’s your father. He’ll forgive you. You two just need to talk it out.”
Uzi seemed to think about that as they walked toward the apartment building entrance.
They climbed five slate steps to a weathered wood door that had been repainted dozens of times during the past several decades.
Uzi led them to a narrow hallway with two doors at the end, where a small window stood above a radiator that piped out warm air. Vail held her fingers over the heat and felt the blood return. I need to put gloves in my go bag.
Uzi faced the door to the left and balled his hand into a fist, as if ready to strike its surface. But he just stood there.
“This the place?” DeSantos finally asked.
“Yeah.”
DeSantos glanced at Vail, then reached out and knocked firmly.
“I was gonna get around to it.”
“We don’t have all day, Boychick.” There was a sharp, loud bark, but otherwise no suggestion of movement inside the apartment.
“Your dad have a dog?” Vail asked.
Uzi shrugged. “Don’t know.”
A few seconds later, Uzi rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Dad,” he said, dipping his chin, as if out of embarrassment, “open up. It’s Aaron.”
The door opposite swung open, revealing a woman in her late sixties, some sagging of the face but an otherwise bright complexion and a friendly smile. She was wearing a spandex running suit.
“Roey’s not home.”
Uzi turned. “You know my dad?”
She stepped into the hall. “You must be Aaron.”
“My dad’s mentioned me?”
“No. I heard you yell your name.” She must have noticed Uzi’s shoulders slump slightly — Vail did — because she said, “Just kidding. Of course he’s talked about you. He’s very proud of you.”
Uzi just stood there, staring at her.
“Nice to hear,” Vail said, filling the void.
“But you really should come around more. Or call. He hasn’t heard from you in years.”
Clearly this woman is a good friend of Roey’s. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” Realizing that it might be odd that she was asking the question rather than Uzi, Vail extended her hand. “Karen Vail. Uzi — Aaron’s friend.”
“Helen Goldschmidt.” She pulled her door closed and sorted out the wires of her iPod. “Roey works lunchtimes at the food bank a few blocks away then goes over to Washington Square Park to play chess with Sal.” She turned to Uzi and frowned. “If you were in touch with him instead of ignoring him, you’d know that, Aaron. He needs you.”
With that, Helen stuck the headphones in her ears and strode off down the hall.
“Well,” Vail said, “that was pleasant.”
DeSantos gently slapped Uzi in the chest. “I assume we’re going to Washington Square Park.”
Uzi was looking down the now-vacant hallway. “Huh? Yeah. Okay.”
“We can handle this,” Vail said, “if you’d rather not see him.”
“No, no. I’m good.”
Yeah, I can tell.
They walked two blocks to the park, which was best known for the imposing marble arch that served as a gateway to the nearly ten acre parcel.
“Looks like the Arc de Triomphe,” DeSantos said.
Vail laughed. “That’s because it was designed to look like it.”
They walked beneath the structure, a sculpture of George Washington adorning both piers.