“I don’t know. What’re we going to do, Ivan?”
“We keep going.”
“But we need Rytter.”
“We carry it and we keep going. Unger’s good with explosives.”
“What about Sparks?”
“What about him?”
“He’s a good explosives man. We’ve got time to bring him in.”
Felk considered it, but the Sparks option came with challenges.
“He’s been having a hard time,” Felk said. “That’s why we didn’t want him operational. He’s unstable. Besides, he’s already given us support, gone as far as he can go.”
“But we need help. You could have him here in a matter of hours. We could get him up to speed. Sparks could do this with his eyes closed.”
It was true.
When Sparks could function, he was outstanding. Having lost Rytter, they were now facing an extraordinary situation. Felk went to his laptop, opened a hidden file that contained phone numbers, then picked up his untraceable cell phone and made a call.
He got a recording:
“His number doesn’t work. Hang on.”
Felk called again to be sure he hadn’t misdialed, and got the same message.
“Maybe he changed it?” Dillon said. “Call his building.”
Felk went back to his laptop for the name and address of the building then went online for the super’s number and called it. He expected a recorded message, but after three rings, the line was answered.
“Oceanic Towers, Shelly Konradisky.”
“Hello, I’m trying to reach the tenant in 1021, Harlee Shaw. His number may have changed—”
“I’m very sorry, are you a friend?”
“Uh, yes. Would you have his new number?”
She cleared her throat. “You must not know what happened.”
“No, what do you mean?”
“I am so sorry to be the one to tell you but…um…Harlee died.”
“He died?” Felk shot a look to Dillon, whose eyes widened.
“Yes, I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I’m afraid he took his own life.”
“How?”
“With his gun.”
“Jesus.” A long moment passed before Felk said, “I knew he was having trouble from his time in the war.”
“Yes, it’s just terrible what our boys go through over there.”
“When was this?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Who found him?”
“I did. Well, me and a reporter.”
“Reporter?”
“Yes, he wanted to talk to Harlee.”
“What reporter? Why?”
“I’m not too sure, some kind of story about war vets, maybe?”
“What’s the reporter’s name?”
“I have his card right here. Jack Gannon. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you his contact information. He’s from the World Press Alliance.”
Felk took it down.
“Did Gannon say anything about why he wanted to talk to Harlee?”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name?”
“Wayne McCormick.”
“And how did you know Harlee?”
“We went through basic together. Thanks for helping me.”
“I am so sorry about your friend, Wayne. It must’ve been terrible what he went though overseas.”
“It was.”
Felk hung up and turned to Dillon.
“I got your end of that,” Dillon said. “What’s the reporter part?”
Felk shook his head in deeply troubled thought.
“Find Northcutt and Unger and meet me in the park at that spot in front of the port building in thirty minutes. We have to assess.”
Dillon left. Felk returned to the window and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
No other option existed but to advance the operation.
They were at battle, taking losses, but they would adjust. They had time to evaluate resources and adapt the mission. The clock was ticking down on them. He replayed the older video from militants of the Revolutionary Movement showing his men unshaven, gaunt, cadaverous, eyes enlarged to dark pools of fear. He braced as a hooded captor raised a sword above his brother’s head.
Staring down at the Federal Reserve, Felk counted the days before the bank would process the ten-million- dollar order to be transported by armored car to Oakland International Airport.
They had time to prepare.
Still, he was assailed by the unknowns, questions that loomed large, eclipsing everything, gnawing at him.
How did they link Rytter to the Ramapo hit? They had to know something.
Why was that name familiar?
Felk went to his laptop and looked at news reports he’d saved.
Christ.
Gannon wrote the Nebraska story. But there was another reason his name rang a bell with Felk. He went to the first news reports on the Ramapo heist.
There it was.
Jack Gannon with the World Press Alliance. He was the first to report that the FBI had an eyewitness.
Eyewitness.
It all came back to her.
That bitch from Queens.
