walked into. Another car screeched to a stop outside.
'Politics,' Lucas said. 'Somebody's got their tit in a wringer and the top guys are going to have to sort it out later. But these guys will shoot you if they have a chance. They already shot one cop…'
'Bullshit, motherfucker,' said one of the cuffed cops.
'… So stay cool. Their weapons are on the floor, but I haven't checked them for backup pieces, which they've probably got.'
'I don't know…'
Two more uniforms squeezed in, their pistols in their hands.
'Look, half the goddamn department will be here in five minutes,' Lucas said. 'If we're fucked up, we can always apologize to each other later. For now, just freeze the place.'
'What about you guys…?' the uniform asked.
'We're going upstairs. You stay here, don't let anybody or anything in or out. Just freeze the scene and be careful. Bekker might be down below, for all we know, and he's armed.'
'This is Bekker?'
'This is Bekker,' Lucas confirmed. To Fell, he said, 'Come on. Let's get him.'
CHAPTER
28
Lily called the patrol lieutenant at the Fifth Precinct and ordered backup squads to Lacey's building: 'It's Bekker,' she said. 'Get them there now. '
She dropped the phone back on its cradle and sat down, heavily, in O'Dell's visitor's chair, sorting it out.
They were in the car…
O'Dell peered at her across his expansive desk. 'What was that all about?' he asked. 'The call from Davenport? I believe I was mentioned.' His voice was ugly, peremptory. Cold.
Lily shook her head.
'I want to know what he said, Lieutenant,' O'Dell barked.
'Shut up, I'm thinking,' she said.
O'Dell's eyes narrowed and he sat back. He'd been a politician for five decades, and he instinctively reacted to the warning tone in her voice. Balances had changed somewhere, and he didn't know exactly where. He tried a probe.
'I won't be maneuvered, Lieutenant,' he said, emphasizing the rank. 'Perhaps a precinct-level job would be more your style after all.'
Lily had been peering at the wall above his head, her lips moving slightly. Now she dropped her eyes to his face: 'You should have wiped out the ticket requisition for Red Reed before you sent him to South Carolina, John. I've got the ticket vouchers with your signature, I've got the reports on his alleged statements, I've even got the Columbia University transcripts showing that he took classes you lectured at. I also know you fixed at least one drug arrest for him. So don't give me any shit about precinct-level jobs, okay?'
O'Dell nodded and settled in his chair. This could be handled. Everything can be handled by he who waits. He sat silently as she stared at the wall above his head. Finally, a tear trickled down her cheek and she said, 'I need your help with the computer.'
'What about the Red Reed stuff?' O'Dell asked.
'I'm not going to use it, for Christ's sakes. I mean, I can't conceive of any circumstances that I'd use it. It was just something… I found out.'
O'Dell grinned in spite of himself. This could be handled, all right. The question now was, who would do the handling? 'Davenport,' he said. 'You told me not to underestimate him. But he looks like a fuckin' brawler with that scar on his face, and what he did to Bekker…'
'Two Robin Hoods just showed up at Bekker's hideout. Lucas is going to take them.'
'What?' Now O'Dell was confused.
'The computer?'
'Tell me what's going on…'
'I want you to run Copland against Kennett.'
O'Dell stared, his thick lips going in and out as he did the calculations, a nursing motion, wet and unpleasant. 'Oh, no,' he said. He turned, pulled himself across to the computer terminal, flicked a switch, waited until the computer booted up, entered a user name and password, and began the process.
The matching run took ten minutes. A double column of dates and times marched down the screen.
'All so many years ago,' O'Dell said tonelessly, reading down the list. 'They must've been like father and son. Copland broke him in on the beat. Copland was a tough old bird. He busted more than a few heads in his day.'
'Kennett planted him on you. How long ago?'
O'Dell shrugged. 'Five years now. He's been driving me for five years. He must have a microphone arrangement in the car, or a bug-or maybe he just pulled out some sound insulation, so he could hear us talk. Every damn thing we said.' He looked at Lily. 'How?'
'Lucas looked at everything, figured that Robin Hood was either you or Kennett… He trusted my judgment that it wasn't Kennett. At least, he said he trusted my judgment. And he likes Kennett.'
'I'm mildly flattered that he thought I could do it,' O'Dell said. 'So you and Davenport set me up?'
'He suggested that I cover your phones, then plant some information with you and see what happened. Watch where it went. We hadn't agreed on exactly what to do, we were going to talk about it tonight. Then this came up. When he called us with the Bekker thing, he wasn't at Citibank. He was already watching Bekker's place. He expected you to call somebody and maybe send somebody down, some Robin Hoods. And some showed up. But I've been with you…'
O'Dell said, 'Now what?'
The tears had started down her face again, but she seemed unaware of them. 'What do you mean?'
He made a questioning gesture with his hands, palms up. At the same time, an oddly satisfied expression had settled on his face. 'You seem to be running things for the time being. So what do we do?'
She looked at him for a moment, then said, 'Call Carter, with Kennett's group.'
'Yeah?'
'Tell him what's happening with Bekker, but tell him to cut Kennett out of the loop.'
'What about you?'
'Don't ask,' she said. She stood and wobbled toward the door of her own office. 'Don't fuckin' ask, 'cause I don't know.'
CHAPTER
29
Bekker crouched over Bridget Land, his scalpel in hand, frozen, humming…
When the front door came down, he snapped back, looked down at himself, as though to make sure he was still there, and then at the woman on the table, the scalpel, the monitoring equipment. He heard the footsteps, then the shouts.
Too soon, they'd come too soon, when he was so close.
A tear ran down his cheek. His life had been like this, misunderstood, tormented, unappreciated. Bridget Land, still alive, but hurt, strained away from him, silently…
To do one more would only take minutes, he thought. If he could hold himself together, if they didn't come
