I reached down, grabbed the guy’s collar and dragged him into the alley. He was still pretty groggy so I took a moment to call up the main menu on my phone. I picked the option to create a new contact, typed Lesley (personal cell) and entered 917 followed by seven random digits. Then I put the phone away, sat the guy upright, propped him against the wall, and retrieved my piece of wooden banister.
“Evening,” I said, when he looked as if he could focus again. “How are you feeling?”
He grunted and wriggled forward, reaching for his gun and trying to stand up at the same time. I pushed him back down with my foot.
“Move again, and I’ll hit you in the head with this,” I said, showing him the banister. “Understand?”
He grunted again, but stayed still.
“Good,” I said. “Now. What’s your name?”
He didn’t answer.
“OK,” I said. “No problem. To be honest, I don’t really care what your name is. What I really want to know is, why did Lesley send you after me?”
He didn’t speak, but a flicker of recognition showed in his eyes.
“Actually, don’t worry about that, either,” I said. “I already know why she sent you. I double-crossed her, killed one of her guys, and now she wants to pay me back.”
“Right,” the guy said, at last.
“She wants to give me her special treatment. Just like Cyril.”
“Right again.”
“I thought as much. So, here’s my real question. What were you supposed to do once you caught me?”
“Like I’m going to tell you. Go ahead. Hit me with that thing. No way am I talking.”
“Oh, I don’t know. An adult human has 206 bones. I doubt I’d have to break more than five percent of yours before you were singing like a canary. But hey. It’s late, and I’m tired. Let’s cut out the middleman. Why don’t we just call Lesley and ask her?”
I took out my phone.
“You’re shitting me, now,” he said. “No one knows her number.”
I showed him the contact entry I’d just created.
“I used to be her partner, remember?” I said. “Of course I know her number. Now before I call, here’s one last question. Her special treatment? Remind me. Does she save it for people who betray her? Or do people who fail her get it, too?”
He didn’t answer.
“OK,” I said. “I’m calling her now. And I’ll be sure to mention that you’re right here, helping me.”
“Please,” he said. “Don’t.”
“So, what were you supposed to do when you caught me?”
“I wasn’t supposed to catch you. Only tail you. In case you didn’t go back to your hotel.”
“People are waiting there?”
“Yes. Two in the lobby. Two in your room.”
“How did they know where I was staying?”
“Lesley’s contacts. In the feds. And the police. Someone told her.”
“What about Fong’s? No feds or police knew I was eating there.”
“You don’t get it. She owns people, everywhere. Cab drivers. Limos. Bars. Hotels. Restaurants. And she’s generous. Someone’ll be buying a new car off calling you in to her, minimum.”
“And the guys at my hotel. What are they supposed to do with me?”
“Take you someplace.”
“Where?”
“An old building. In the basement, there. A couple of blocks away. Lesley owns it.”
“You know the address?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“Beep her. So she can come down and do the you-know-what. Turn you from David to Davina.”
“Tonight?”
“As soon as we could lay hands on you.”
“Good,” I said. “Now shut up.”
I dialed Varley’s number.
There was no answer.
I tried Lavine’s.
It was switched off.
Weston’s.
No answer.
I tried Tanya’s, to get the details for Rosser and Breuer.
Her line was busy.
I knew I couldn’t trust anyone else in the bureau or the NYPD, so that left me with three choices. Hang around the alley hoping someone would answer their phone before a cop car came by. Handle Lesley myself. Or walk away.
“Who knows Lesley’s beeper number?” I said to the guy on the ground. “Just the guys at the hotel?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve got it, too.”
“Good,” I said, handing him the phone. “Now. Call your buddies. Tell them tonight is a trap. Lesley is going to dish out some special treatment, all right, but not just for me. To all four of them, as well. Tell them to run for their lives. And then take me to this old house.”
Lesley’s guy took me to a side street tucked away off Canal Street, three blocks to the east. It had no visible name. He paused for a moment then led me right to the far end, moving slowly as both the remaining streetlights had been broken. We stopped in front of an old tenement building-the last structure standing on the right-hand side. It was a complete ruin. The steps up to the entrance were chipped and pitted. The doors were boarded up. All the windows were smashed. Every inch of the walls was daubed with graffiti and a tide of empty cardboard cartons and plastic bags had drifted several feet deep along the frontage.
The guy tugged my sleeve and set off down a narrow flight of steps to the left of the main set. They led to a recessed door. It was made of steel. I guessed it was new because it hadn’t been vandalized yet. I waited while the guy fished for one of his sets of keys and used them to work the lock. He pushed the door and it swung back, silently. I followed him inside. He hit the lights and I saw we were in a long, rectangular room. It was easily forty feet by twenty-five. The floor and walls were covered in shiny white tiles, and the ceiling was divided into a series of sloping red-brick vaults.
I moved farther into the room, toward a rusty industrial-sized boiler that sat in the far corner. It clearly wasn’t working-the place was freezing-but a maze of pipes still led out from the top and meandered their way through a series of holes in the walls and ceiling. Four piles of clothes were neatly folded on the floor in front of it. They were all men’s. Next to those lay the remains of a bed mattress-just the springs and frame, no material or stuffing. The only other thing I could see was attached to the wall on the other side of the boiler. It was a metal ring, four inches in diameter, eight feet from the ground. Two lengths of chain were hanging from it. And there was a shackle at the end of each one.
“Hospitable kind of place,” I said.
The guy didn’t answer.
“Let’s not waste any more time,” I said. “Lesley’s pager number. What is it?”
He told me, and I made the call.
“OK,” I said. “I’ve whistled. Let’s see if she comes running. How long should she be?”
“Don’t know,” the guy said. “I don’t know where she’s coming from.”
“Better get ready then, in case she’s around the corner. You get in the boiler, where the coal would go, and keep your head down. I’ll stay out here.”
“You’re not going to…?”
“I’m not going to do anything. To you, anyway. Unless you come out before Lesley gets here. Then I’ll shoot you in the head. If you come out after Lesley gets here, or make any kind of noise, you know what she’ll do. But if
