cop got in the way.” I swallowed, remembering the way he had screamed when the laser had struck him. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Hecht? He’s being taken to Barnes right now … he’s a tough kid, he’ll make it.” Farrentino was still eyeballing the laser. “You just happened to figure out where this buck was shooting from and decided to take matters into your own hands, that it?”
I shrugged. “Something like that,” I replied. “I’m sorry about your man, but he didn’t have a clue. I tried to explain it to him, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen, and I didn’t have time to spell it out for his backup.” I pointed to the gun on the floor. “The gun belongs to our friend over there. He pulled it on me when I found him up here. Sorry I beat on him like that, but-”
“Yeah, right.” Farrentino stepped away from the laser. “I can see how shook up you are.”
“Call it self-preservation. Oh, and there’s a van parked out back. I think it belongs to him. You might want to look at it-”
“I know. We found it already, just before we came up here.” Farrentino stood idly rubbing at the tip of his nose, then he looked at Conklin and cocked his thumb toward his partner. “Okay, Bill, you can leave him alone. I’ll take care of Mr. Rosen here. You go assist Jerry … oh, and call downtown and get a forensics team sent out here, too.” He gestured toward the laser. “I want prints off this thing, plus anything else they can find. And try to keep the press out of here, okay? One reporter’s enough already.”
Conklin didn’t get the joke. He hesitated, looking uncertainly at me. “Are you sure about this, Lieutenant? I mean, we don’t know if this isn’t the guy who …”
Farrentino sighed. “Bill, you want to spell your first and last name correctly for Mr. Rosen here? He’s from the
Conklin shut up. He gave me a sour look, then handed Joker back to me and went over to help his partner. Simmons was crouched over the automatic on the floor; he had pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his belt and had inserted a pen through the gun’s barrel, delicately lifting it off the floor to deposit it in the bag. Conklin gave me one last backward glance, then shrugged out of his uniform jacket and laid it across the sniper’s chest.
Ambulance sirens were already warbling our way as Farrentino led me into a corner of the room away from the two officers. “I’d appreciate it if you switched off your PT,” he said softly. “I know you’ve got nothing to do with that lady’s murder, but I’d just as soon not see the rest of this in the paper, y’know what I mean?”
I had forgotten Joker’s audio-record mode was left on. I switched off the ’puter and shoved it back in my pocket.
Farrentino pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. “Jesus Christ,” he said, “you’re such a pain in the ass. I only met you last night, and so far you’ve been in my face three times already. If I didn’t know better, I’d have you cuffed and hauled downtown.”
“I’ve taken that trip already,” I replied, “but thanks anyway-”
“I don’t mean your business with ERA, Gerry.” He exhaled blue smoke, then jabbed the lit end of the cigarette at me. “This is police stuff now. It’s going to be hard for me to explain how I found a reporter whaling the shit out of a possible murder suspect with an iron bar as it is …”
“Chill out, Lieutenant.” I held up Joker. “I got it here on disk. That guy’s working for ERA, he told me so himself.”
“I know that already,” he said, quickly nodding his head. He pulled out his PT and flipped it open. “I caught that part of it just as we came through the door. Now I want the rest of it, from the beginning.”
I ran it down for him, telling him everything that had happened since I met Hinckley at the restaurant down the street. Although I excluded the details of Ruby Fulcrum, I was careful to mention the fact that I had discovered a cellular tracking device in the card Barris had given me the night before.
Farrentino remained quiet until I ended my story with the discovery of the gunner here in the building. “Okay,” he said as he made a few notes in his palmtop, “I’m going to believe you on this, but …”
His voice trailed off as he read something on his screen. His eyebrows raised slightly. There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairwell. Farrentino looked over his shoulder; a trio of paramedics trooped through the door, carrying a folded stretcher. They barely noticed us as they went straight for the man on the floor, but Farrentino seemed relieved. He let out his breath, then looked back at me.
“I just received an APB,” he said very quietly. “There’s a ten-ninety-four out for you.”
“What, I didn’t pay my parking tickets? I don’t even have a car-”
“Shut up.” Farrentino’s eyes were like black ice. He closed his PT and slipped it into his coat pocket. “No fucking around now,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder again. “It was issued by ERA, and it means that you’re wanted for immediate pickup … possibly as a militant, an armed suspect, a mental case, or all of the above.”
“What the-”
“Truth. The feds want your ass and they want it now.”
Now it was my turn to feel the cold chills. I shot a glance at the parameds and cops gathered around the gunner; none of them seemed to be paying attention to us, but that could change any second.
“When did this happen?” I whispered.
“Just now.” He cocked his head toward the two patrolmen. “You don’t have to worry about those guys … they’re going to be busy for a few minutes … but you’re wanted by the feds now. I don’t think I have to tell you why.”
No, he did not; I could make a pretty good guess on my own. The moment Hinckley had cut open the tracer and left it in the restaurant, whoever had been monitoring my signal had realized that I was wise to them. That’s when Barris told his killer, who had already tracked down Hinckley with my unwitting cooperation, to snuff me as well-and since the killer had failed, Barris now wanted to have me brought down to the Stadium Club for one last meeting.
This time, there wouldn’t be any easy release. If they got me, then they got Joker as well, and with it the interview Hinckley had given me just before she was killed. Even if I threw Joker into a garbage can and surrendered myself, there was little chance I would ever emerge from the stadium again. Not alive, at least.
I took a deep breath, trying to control my panic. The area outside the building was already crawling with cops; no doubt they would soon be joined by ERA troopers. “Okay, Mike,” I said, my voice suddenly raw in my throat, “it’s up to you …”
“Uh-uh.” Farrentino shook his head. “I’ve already done all I can do. I’ve questioned you in front of two other officers and determined that you’re not a suspect, so now you’re free to go. If Barris comes to me, my hands are clean. I’m just the dumb cop who let you slip. I’m sorry, but that’s it.”
“Aw c’mon, Mike …”
He jerked his head toward the door. “Get out of here,” he murmured. “Hit the street. Don’t go back to your apartment or your wife’s place, those are the first places they’re going to look for you. And stay the fuck off the net-”
“Mike,” I said, “how-”
“Go!” he whispered. “Move your ass!”
I started to argue some more, but he turned his back on me. Trailing cigarette smoke, he began to saunter across the room. Conklin looked up at him as he approached; for a moment, he stared past the homicide detective at me, then he looked away again.
A helicopter roared over the rooftop, breaking the spell. I took one last look around, then I eased out of the room and headed for the hallway. The window leading to the fire escape was still open. I stuck my head out, saw that no one was in the alley below, then climbed out the window and began to scurry down the cold iron stairs.
I was on the run, and I hadn’t the slightest clue where I was supposed to go.
PART FOUR
