‘Media got your name, Leo. We tried to keep it quiet, but the Capske thing is fucking major. I mean, everyone wants to know. So now your name’s out there. They’ve got your home address, Leo. And now they’ve found your mom’s address.’
‘What the hell does this have to do with her?’
‘The press don’t give a flying fuck for you or your mom.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘They’ll be hounding her, raking through her trash, searching records, speaking to neighbors, work colleagues, phoning, knocking, hour after hour. She’ll be a prisoner too, Leo. All on her own, I understand.’
Leo rose; the handcuffs clinked taut. ‘Let me go.’
‘Give me the name, Leo.’
‘No.’
‘Be a fucking man, you coward. Be a fucking man, for once. Look after your family, right? Your mom. Look after her, not some lowlife who set you up.’
‘What do you mean, set me up?’
Harper tried his trump card. ‘I think this scumbag set you up. How the hell do you think we got to that alleyway? He set you off, then called us. He probably wants you to go down for the Capske murder.’
‘He fucking called you?’
‘He killed David Capske but he wants you to burn for it. He chose the barbed wire because you bought it.’
Leo bent over and hit his head on the table. ‘I need to go see my mom.’
‘Leo, be smart. You let this asshole put this Capske killing on you and you’re the number one hate figure. Even if the evidence doesn’t stack up, by then, your mom’s life will be fucked to pieces. Her life is hell. They’re going to hunt her in packs until she tells them something. Then they’re going to hunt down your ex-girl friends, friends, brothers, sisters, until they’re painting ugly pictures of you all over. Fair trial? Not a chance. Unless you act smart and speak, you’re going down for stuff you didn’t even do, Leo. And in prison, they’re going to smash up a poor white racist like you.’
Leo stared at Harper. He was breathing heavily. ‘You’ll let me go?’
‘I’ll do my absolute best. We’ll try to spring you and you can walk free, go see your mom. You’ve got to trust me, Leo. I don’t want you locked up in here, but you bought that barbed wire and that barbed wire killed David Capske.’
‘I give you a name, I walk?’
‘You give us what we need to nail Capske’s killer, and we make sure you’ve got a way out.’
Leo paused. ‘I didn’t kill no one. We were building fences. That’s what the barbed wire was for.’
‘What fences?’
‘Upstate. At the compound.’
‘What compound?’
‘He bought five acres.’
‘Who bought it, Leo? They’re going to come in here in ten minutes, bag you up, shove you in a truck and send you off to the state penitentiary. They want someone for this, Leo. They don’t care who it is, they just want someone.’
‘We were fencing off our land.’
‘What land?’
‘We just want a place we can call our own. A white homeland.’
‘I want that name.’
Leo Lukanov looked up. His eyes wide and open. ‘I get off? That’s for real?’
‘You get off the Capske murder. You walk.’
Leo Lukanov stared at Harper. ‘What about protection?’
‘From whom?’
‘I just need to know. If he finds out, I need to know.’
‘Who, Leo? Give me his name and we’ll look after you.’
Leo Lukanov twisted his hands into a hard knot. The fear was visible in his eyes. ‘Heming,’ said Leo. ‘Martin Heming.’
Chapter Forty-Four
Harper sent out word to the team. They were hunting a man who went by the name of Martin Heming. He called Jack Carney with the same information. An hour later, Jack Carney turned up at North Manhattan Homicide carrying a box.
‘Jack,’ said Harper. ‘I didn’t expect a personal call.’
‘I needed to come, there’s so much shit on Heming.’
‘What have we got? Is he someone?’
‘We’ve got a pretty substantial file on him,’ said Carney. He dumped the box on Harper’s desk. ‘He’s a long- time agitator. A neo-Nazi. He’s got his own set-up — website, blog, pamphlets and publications. He even self- published a book called
‘What’s it about?’
‘Evolution, social science, politics, history. But in a nutshell, it’s about how bad the Jews are and why it’s true that they really are trying to destroy America.’
‘I get so angry at this stuff, Jack. This is hateful shit. How do you stand it?’
‘Same as you. We hate it, so we try to clean it up.’
Harper nodded. ‘Associates?’
‘He’s clever, Heming. He seems to be in charge of operations but there’s no direct link. He’s been arrested a couple of times, but for low-level offenses.’
‘Addresses and haunts?’
‘Yeah, a couple of places he goes to, and the apartment in Crown Heights.’
‘Thanks for this, Jack, I appreciate it.’
‘Listen, Harper, it’s not all altruistic. I want to jump into bed with you on this one.’
‘Your knowledge is going to be useful. What are you after?’
‘You’re going to be getting to the heart of some of these neo-Nazi groups. This could crack open a lot of our cases. And we might be useful to you. I can put the Hate Crime team at your disposal.’
Harper shook Carney’s hand. ‘Let’s find this sick bastard,’ he said.
The teams went out searching for the leader of Section 88, Martin Heming. They tried all the known haunts and addresses. Everyone came up blanks. There was no question about it, Heming knew and had gone into hiding.
Harper returned to his desk and received a report from Forest Park. They’d found blood on the bushes. Abby’s blood. Harper put the report down.
His plan was simple, but dangerous. He walked to Lafayette’s office, thinking it through. The Captain beckoned him in.
‘Any news?’ said Lafayette.
‘Denise has gone across to see Dr Goldenberg. We found Abby’s blood on the bushes.’
‘What about this Heming guy?’
‘The thing is,’ said Harper, ‘we’ve got this guy on the run. He knows we’re chasing him. We’ve got his place under surveillance and all known haunts, but he’s gone. He’s going to be difficult to find.’
‘You think he might have gone out of state?’
‘Denise and I think that he’s still here, and that Abby is somewhere close. I think he needs this. He killed Marisa after we arrested four of Section 88.’
