‘We only got two pieces of it. On the right hand side it just says SS and 88. The word
Harper said, ‘Thanks. Not sure what it means. The SS, the 88 and the motto… Hold on, Garcia.’
‘What?’
‘The other cards. Did they have the 88 on them?’
‘Not that we found.’
‘Neither did the card we found in Lukanov’s place with Denise’s name on it. Keep that card, Garcia, I want to see it. It might be the killer’s card, which means he might be out tonight, with a new target. Oh, and one more thing…’
‘What’s that?’
‘We need the name on that card. They could be in danger. Get the sewers checked out. The card might be somewhere.’
‘You’re kidding? You want me to search the sewage?’
‘It’s someone’s life, Garcia, and I never kid.’
Harper called the investigation center and got through to Swanson, who had returned earlier.
‘What you got, boss?’
‘We’ve got the potential of a hit tonight,’ Harper said.
‘What’s the lead?’
‘Black card with the moniker 88 and the letters SS.’
‘No name, I guess.’
‘No name. We just got the half with the SS and 88.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Swanson asked.
‘I want to see if we can get as many patrol cars on the streets of Manhattan as possible.’
‘Yeah, right — double overtime. I’ll ask, Harper.’
‘Put me through to Lafayette, can you?’
‘Sure, but he’s gonna say the same thing.’
Harper waited. The SS. The Nazis’ elite force. The previous card didn’t have the SS written on it. Perhaps there were different cards for different things. Some with names, others not.
Lafayette picked up. ‘Yes, Harper.’
There was silence on the line. Harper was thinking again.
‘Jesus!’ shouted Harper. ‘We got to go!’
‘Harper, what is it?’ demanded Lafayette.
‘I got to go,’ Harper repeated. He disconnected and slid across the hood of the car. ‘Get in,’ he ordered Denise.
The car was moving in an instant, eating up gravel and screeching out of the gates.
‘What is it?’
‘They found a black card with the letters SS.’
‘So what? We know Sturbe was a member of the SS. Our killer likes to use these monikers and symbols.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought too. If I’d seen it, I’d have known immediately, but I didn’t. I just heard over the radio.’
‘What would you have known?’
‘The SS doesn’t stand for the
‘Becky Glass,’ said Denise. ‘Was that Becky’s card?’
‘Not Becky Glass,’ said Harper. ‘Becky Glass is dead.’
‘Then what?’
‘There’s only one possibility. Her kids — Jerry and Ruth Glass.’
Chapter Seventy
Jerry and Ruth Glass were being held in a well-used temporary safe house in the city on 14th Street. It was a two-story building with an anonymous-looking facade, a used Chevy out front and a yard scattered with kids’ toys like any normal family home.
Inside, a female cop was sitting reading, as the social worker assigned to the children sat beside her watching television. Upstairs, the two kids lay fast asleep in the same room, where they felt safest.
There were usually two cops on duty, but at the moment there was only one. The rota only changed one cop at a time to ensure continuity, but that meant that often, the cop at the end of his or her shift would leave dead on time, while the relief cop often turned up late — so at shift changeover, the house was at its most vulnerable.
Unknown to anyone in the safe house, a car was heading towards them, the driver looking down at his watch. His slot was narrowing. A few minutes had gone already. He had to be quick.
On the other side of town, speeding towards the house, were Denise and Tom. Harper reached his hand out of the open window and put a siren on his car. He drove like a bullet through the greasy streets. It was coming together in his head.
‘How do you read it?’ she asked.
‘Someone made the connection. We put out the information about what the child said. We didn’t mention the children, but the killer must’ve worked it out. The papers were full of it. And they reported the fact that Becky had two children. He spotted the link.’
‘Who called it?’
‘They’re protecting the organization, I guess. Heming might be on it himself, or even Sturbe.’
‘You think they’re different people?’
‘I don’t have time to think. I know we’ve got two names, that’s all.’
They shot through dark streets, their fear palpable. Harper called through to the house, but the line was dead. They called the police radio. It was switched off. A major violation. Harper hit the steering wheel.
He then called the precinct. ‘Swanson, I’ve got someone after the kids in the safe house. I need a number. Find out the name of the officer on duty or the social worker, and get me a cell-phone number.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Swanson.
The killer turned into the street. He felt his neck tensing and twisted his head around. He was gripping the wheel too damn tight as well. He parked on the opposite side of the street and got out of his car. He breathed deeply. He was a little late. The world seemed silent for a second. He moved around to the trunk and opened it. He took out two body bags, a thick rope and a climbing grapple. Then he walked across the street, checked his gun and looked up. He saw the lights go out in a downstairs bathroom. They were not expecting any trouble.
He walked around the back of the house. He needed to silence the children. It was as simple as that, but it didn’t feel good. It wasn’t part of what he wanted to do. He felt angry about it, angry and disappointed that he’d left a clue. He looked up at a large oak. It wasn’t close enough to the window, but that didn’t matter. He climbed up the tree, eased himself out on a branch, and then tied the grappling hook to the rope and swung it in a large circle. He released it. It skittered on the tiles and slid down, missing the chimney stack. He tried again, leaning out more. The throw went further. The hook slapped on to the higher tiles and went over the peak. He tugged slowly until the hook bit, and then dropped the rope. It hung down the guttering and right in front of the bedroom window.
He climbed down the tree, sweating from the exertion. When he reached up and tested the rope, it was fixed nice and firm.
He put one hand as far up as he could and jumped, reaching up higher with his second hand. His upper body was strong and he slowly pulled himself up the rope. One hand over the other, slowly advancing towards the
