18: And the Jaws Snap Shut

The problem with my generation
is that we all think we’re fucking geniuses.
Making something isn’t enough for us;
and neither is selling something,
or teaching something, or even just doing something,
we have to be something.

Nick Hornby

Doug’s voice crackled in Em’s ear. “Is everyone in position?”

“I’m set by the Dubliner, on Stone Street,” Juárez said.

“I’ve got Pearl Street covered, and my partner is ready on William,” Peters announced.

Philip chimed in, “I’m positioned on the twelfth floor of One New York Plaza, overlooking Stone. I’ve got an excellent overview.”

Em coughed, holding her sunglasses steady against her ear. “I’m sitting at a table on Coenties, but it’s hard to appear inconspicuous with all you yakking.”

“Understood, Em, but since I’m monitoring the situation from the electronics van on Beaver Street, three blocks away, I need to maintain contact to understand what’s happening.”

“Be cautious, they’re on the lookout for police.”

“This has got to be the worst place for a transfer. There are people all over, heading in every possible direction.”

Em continued holding her glasses as she studied a menu, watching those passing by. “Phillips, that’s their design. I’m guessing they’re familiar with the location, working nearby.”

“The traffic should ease as soon as people return to work.”

“It’ll lessen, but this region is always busy. It’s a popular tourist spot, with Frances tavern and other restaurants close by.”

“The coffee and bagels aren’t bad, either,” Juárez teased.

“All right, enough pointless chatter.” Doug surveyed the video feeds from the surrounding surveillance cameras. None of them were well situated since this was a low crime area. “The decoy is ready to fly.”

“It isn’t time for the meet yet. Let’s not rush things.” Em scanned the area again. She noticed one young man with curly hair, a sparse goatee and wearing a dark coat, a wool cap covering his head. She’d seen him several times. He seemed to be studying the scene instead of heading anywhere in particular.

“Still, it’ll take him a while to walk there. I think it would be best if we sent him now so he’ll be ready when his contact shows up. I can track him with security cameras along Pearl Street. We’re also sending a plainclothes to trail him.”

Watching the man wander away, glancing over his shoulder, Em stood. “Em here. I’ve got a funny feeling. I’m going to check something before he arrives.”

“You’re leaving?” Phillips asked. “You’re leading this project.”

“Doug’s got eyes on everything and knows what he’s doing. I’ll be keeping tabs, but I want to check something. Em out,” she said as she turned on South Williams.

“It appears our lead detective just checked out.”

“Can it, Phillips. Everyone look alive. I don’t want anything going south.”

“Do we know who the decoy’s meeting?”

Doug sighed. “No. The person who arranged the meet was different than his previous contact. So it could be anyone. All we know is they’re male, probably white. We’re waiting for the transfer of funds. As soon as it takes place, we move in.”

“A Caucasian guy? You described ninety-five percent of the people here.”

“No one’s paying attention,” Juárez observed. “So far everything’s clear.”

“I can’t see anyone who seems anxious.”

“It’s still several minutes ‘till the meeting time,” Doug reminded them.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to show up late if they’re transferring so much money.”

“Don’t forget where we are. If they work on Wall Street, delayed arrivals might be how they do business. It’s a classic power play.”

“OK, our man is nearing Coenties.”

“There’s someone tracking him near Beckett’s Bar.”

“Alright, prepare to act. There’s no telling whether this is an honest pay off or another attempt to off a witness.”

“So far, they haven’t tried to murder anyone who hasn’t been caught,” Juárez said.

“You mean, aside from the murders which started the whole investigation,” Phillip cracked.

Doug switched between displays, trying to find one which showed what was happening. “That’s true, but in this case, there’s no telling how they’ll respond to a cop on the inside. They might think there’s too much temptation to turn on them.”

“Suspect is reaching in his pocket!”

“It’s too early for a payoff. Don’t panic, yet. Wait until you see a weapon.” A truck stopped on the south end of Pearl, blocking Doug’s view. He chewed his pencil eraser, waiting an agonizing several seconds before a response came back.

“False alarm. They were checking their phone.”

“OK, everyone back off. We don’t want to cluster around the decoy. Alright, he’s turning on Coenties Alley. Without Em there, we’re short a man.”

“Don’t worry, I shifted down so I can cover Coenties and Stone Street,” Juárez said.

“Pay attention to anyone approaching from Stone,” Doug cautioned, switching between the various monitors. “If I realized Em was gonna bail, I’d have picked a techie to handle communications,” he mumbled.

“Your partner doesn’t like playing by the rules. She takes too many shortcuts.”

“She’s the only reason we’ve gotten this far, but still, I’d feel better if she were participating.”

Doug waited another several minutes for Milton Moore to reach the mutually agreed upon meeting area. When he arrived, he turned, glancing around, Doug spoke into his earpiece. “Let’s not appear anxious. If they’re not there, take a seat and wait.”

“Except there’re no available seats,” Milton protested.

“Hey, talking to yourself will alert anyone observing. Maintain radio silence. Do like everyone else and wait for a seat to empty. If nothing else, window shop and appear unconcerned. They know what you look like and what you’re wearing, so you don’t have to be the one to establish contact.”

“Except you keep reminding me that I might get popped,” Milton reminded him. “I’ll be looking at the pretty girls in the shop windows. That’s more relaxing than glancing over my shoulder.”

“Do that, just keep quiet.”

The radio chatter halted for several minutes, people continued to pass back and forth. The views were frequently obstructed, making monitoring the situation difficult.

“Possible bogey approaching,” Phillip warned.

Doug stared at the central monitor. “I see them. I’m trying to get a decent picture to run a facial scan on. Don’t turn around yet, but if you can, see if you can move them into the sunlight so I can get a better image.”

“Officer Milton?” The audio from his body mic was muffled by his clothing. To compensate, Doug had cranked the volume up, but it just added to the random background noise.

“Contact established. Settle your positions and be prepared to respond,” Doug advised.

Milton turned, sizing the stranger up. “Yeah, that’s me. Am I allowed to ask who I’m speaking to?”

“Call me John,” a rich baritone answered. Unfortunately, his back was to the sun, so his face was covered in shadows. Doug could see a pale, receding hairline with thick graying hair and some facial hair, but not many details beyond that.

“Well, John. I completed the task, at tremendous personal risk. I had to dance to avoid the normal security arrangements.”

“Let’s move away from the storefront. I’d rather no one overhears if you’re discussing security,” John suggested.

Milton tried to maneuver to his other side, but John kept shifting. Not wanting to be obvious, Milton gave up the attempt.

Stopping in the midst of people wandering past, but moving too fast to overhear much, John began again.

“You’ll be pleased to know we’ve taken care of your wife. Whatever medical expenses she requires, she’ll receive. One of my charity organizations ‘heard’ of her plight and has kindly offered to take responsibility for her.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been worried sick about her. I’m not concerned with what happens to me, as long as she’s covered.”

John frowned, or at least attempted to. Instead, the edge of his mouth twitched up, revealing a smirk. “That’s perfect. It’s what we assumed. Since you’re a cop and are likely to develop a conscience once your wife gets better, we didn’t want to take a chance. Between your police pension and life insurance, your spouse should be set. She won’t live high on the hog, but she’ll get by without you.”

“What are you saying?”

As John reached into his jacket, Doug noticed a glitch in his monitor. He wiped the screen before realizing the bad pixel was part of the image.

John pulled out and opened a folding mirror, holding it for Milton to see. Emblazoned on his forehead was the red dot of a laser. Shaken, Milton shifted to the side, but John moved with him, keeping the mirror focused. The laser target tracked Milton’s movements exactly. He glanced up, but couldn’t trace the source with the sun shining in his eyes.

“If you move, you’ll die. Since I don’t want to be implicated in the murder of a policeman, I’ll depart. If you or anyone else attempts to stop me, you’ll be killed. What’s more, if you survive, your wife will receive nothing.

“You said you’d trade anything to save her life. Well, we granted your wish. You’ve traded your life for hers.” John patted his arm, moving away in another direction. “It was a pleasure working with you. We’ll let your wife know it’s because of you she’s receiving her life saving treatments.”

“What’s happening, chief?” Phillip asked, unsure whether to intercede or not.

“I don’t know!” Doug mumbled, clutching his head. “If we arrest him, Milton dies! If we don’t, the guy gets away and he still dies. This is why I never wanted to be in charge!”

Em followed the source of her curiosity as he turned right on South William Street. She turned the corner just in time to observe him ducking into the parking garage, stopping to furtively glance around. She allowed him a second before following.

He entered the staircase. When she followed, she could hear him jogging up the stairs. Moving quietly, she took two steps at a time, trying to guestimate which floor he was nearing. When the metal door slammed, she was sure he exited on the roof. Reaching it, she hesitated to give him some distance, and followed.

The elevated parking garage expanded before her, the tightly packed cars obstructing the view. By shifting between them, she could make out her target, easily ducking behind a vehicle if he glanced back. He was moving towards the far outer edge, overlooking Coenties Alley where the exchange was taking place.

Following the long way around, running with a light foot, she lost sight of him. Reaching the end row, she saw him crouching beside a car, fiddling with something. She began to edge around the cars when he rose to his knees. He lay a rifle with a scope on the hood of a car, taking aim at someone below. She drew her Glock and stepped into the aisle when she heard him mumbling.

“Target acquired. You’re good to make contact.”

Realizing they needed evidence linking Milton and his contact, she edged forward. If she shouted a warning, the sniper would broadcast it over his wireless headphone, allowing his partner to escape. His concentration was intense. He never glanced up, making minute adjustments.

Her earphone cackled with the announcement that contact was established, but she couldn’t hear the exchange. The stairway door they’d arrived from opened and the assassin tensed. Em shifted against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t glance back. When it shut again and no one exited, he relaxed.

“Target engaged,” the man stated. She continued edging forward, not wanting to alert him and his radio contact, before she could stop him. Apparently the statement was a signal between the two men, as the sniper remained focused.

Without his wool cap, Em noted the headphone and microphone arching around his face. It looked like professional equipment. The man had curly hair and the muscular build of a veteran.

“Target acknowledges laser.”

Em was aware she was playing with fire. The sensible thing would be to stop the sniper before he killed someone. But if she did, the entire plan would unfold, with the main party escaping. She also realized she couldn’t count on the sniper testifying if his legal fees were paid by the person he’d testify against. Figuring her career was finished anyway, she bit her lip and continued. The sniper tensed. Thinking she’d been heard, she hesitated, raising her pistol. Her silent earpiece erupted in excited exclamations.

“What’s happening, chief?”

“I don’t know,” Doug answered, sounding shaky and hesitant. Ignoring the interruption, Em made the last few steps and pressed the cold muzzle of her pistol against the back of the sniper’s skull. He instantly tensed, freezing in place, not daring to move.

Em reached down with her other hand, yanking the headphone from his ears before speaking. “Release the trigger and drop the rifle.” The sniper hesitated, so Em pressed her Glock against his skull, pressing his eye into the scope. If she continued, he’d lose the eye. He released the rifle, which fell with a thud against the hood.

Em took two steps back, switching the pistol between hands and tapping her ear. “Sniper captured. Take appropriate action.”

There was a cacophony of chatter on the microphone, but Em couldn’t concentrate on what was being said. The assassin rolled off the hood, rotating as he fell, reaching for something. The rifle slid off the hood, producing a high-pitched whine as it scraped metal until it crashed to the ground. Not sure whether she could hit a moving target with her left hand in a dark space, she lunged, kicking him in the chest. There was a cracking sound as a rib broke. The man collapsed against the surface with a gasp, followed by an agonized groan. Em stepped forward, pressing her boot against his injured chest, holding him down. The pistol he’d tried to pull bounced under the car with a clatter. She was glad she wasn’t wearing fashionable Miu Mius.

The man groaned, his skull cracking against the asphalt floor. He gasped, his breath coming in a whistle. Em couldn’t tell if the sound came from a punctured rib or a bloody nose. In either case, he wasn’t in any hurry to move. Switching hands, she knelt, pressing her Glock against his forehead. “Think of pulling a weapon on me again, and I’ll back the car over your head to hide the stain your brains left.”

When he didn’t move, she used her free hand to switch ears on her earpiece.

“Doug, what the hell’s happening? I have no eyes on the scene.”

“Juárez has John, the contact. The others are moving in. The presence of guns spooked the crowd so I can’t see what’s occurring.”

“I’ve got John under arrest. He’s not resisting. Peters is controlling the pedestrians while we move him away.”

The wail of siren’s sounded as nearby police cars closed in. The man who’s veins throbbed under Em’s muzzle moaned.

“Face it, it’s over. Your career working for amateurs with money is over. Keep your hands clear and get up. If you flinch, there’s absolutely nothing preventing me from splattering your brains against the side of this car.”

The man did as instructed. Once he stood, Em slammed him against the car and cuffed him. Once she had him secured, she knelt and checked under the car. The scope on the rifle was shattered and bent, while the pistol was lodged behind the wheel. Moving him to the concrete railing, Em yelled, waving her hand, holding her sniper where they could see him.