'Out of town.'
'Good.' I would have asked him where Tom's girlfriend was, but she wasn't in any danger. Why not? Well, she's a barracuda, and Khalil would not harm her out of professional courtesy. Should I share this with Paresi? Maybe not.
Anyway, we seemed to have covered all the points, and I said, 'I'm off to the hospital.'
'Give my regards to Kate. We'll speak later before you go out.'
I hung up and, ignoring Paresi's advice, walked out to the balcony and looked at the buildings across the street. Indeed, there were thousands of windows that all had a good view of me and my balcony, and also the front doors of this building, plus there were dozens of rooftops, many of them higher than my balcony. A very easy way to kill John Corey was to have a sniper on a roof or in any of those apartments or offices-and he didn't even have to be a particularly good shot. But if that was going to happen, it would have already happened.
From here, I could see Central Park at the end of 72nd Street, over eight hundred acres of open fields, woods, ponds and lakes, park structures, and lots of dark spaces at night. It was a good place for this game-but maybe too obvious.
Like the lion for whom he was named, Asad Khalil could smell danger, but a hungry lion will take a risk for a meal, and by now, The Lion must be very hungry.
CHAPTER FORTY
Alfred was on duty, and I wished him good morning and confessed, 'I can't find the freight elevator key.'
'Oh…'
'I'll keep looking, but in the meantime…' I pushed five twenties across the counter. 'If you need to have one made…'
'Yes, sir. I do have a spare, but if you can't find it, I'll see a locksmith.'
'I'm sure I'll find it, but you keep that for your trouble.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Don't mention it.' And I mean don't mention it.
I saw there was a new surveillance person in my lobby, a female this time, sitting in an armchair reading the Times, with a Bloomies bag beside her.
I didn't know her, and I went over and introduced myself. She introduced herself as 'Kiera Liantonio, Special Operations.'
She was an attractive, well-dressed woman in her mid-twenties, maybe older, but I can't tell anymore. In any case, she was too young to be an NYPD detective, so I asked her, 'FBI?'
'Does it show?'
'I'm afraid it does.' Where do they get these kids? Well, right out of law school and Quantico. Like Lisa Sims. I suppose this kind of assignment was good on-the-job training for a rookie FBI agent. Why assign a pro to guard my life?
I said to Special Agent Liantonio, 'I'll probably be out for two or three hours. You can take a break if you want.'
She nodded.
FYI, it's never a good idea to ask a female cop or agent if they're wearing a vest-it's like asking them if they're pregnant, and they might take it the wrong way. But I'm slick, and I said to her, 'Why aren't you wearing a vest?'
She replied, 'I am.'
'Oh… good.' See?
Anyway, she seemed very self-assured, the way most of these new agents are when they get out of Quantico-the way I was when I got out of the Academy. I mean, you're in great physical shape, you listened in class, and you have a gun that you know how to use and a badge or shield that carries authority. The only thing you don't have is a clue.
I said to Ms. Liantonio, 'My wife is with the Bureau.'
'I know.'
'Do you know where she is, and why she's there?'
'I've heard something.'
'Good. She doesn't need or want a roommate.' I added, 'Stay alert. This is a very bad guy.'
She didn't reply, but she nodded.
I left the building and stood under the canopy with my shotgun rider-Ed Regan again-while the Highway Unit SUV pulled up closer.
I got in the vehicle and off we went. The driver was someone new, and his name was Ahmed something. I mean, there's like fifty Mideastern cops on the whole thirty-five-thousand-person force, and I get one of them.
We all chatted as we made our way down to Bellevue, and Ahmed was a good guy, and he made some good jokes, like, 'I'm kidnapping you.' Well, if you're a Muslim on the NYPD, post-9/11, you really need a sense of humor.
Ed Regan demonstrated his interest in Ahmed's culture by asking him, 'What's the definition of a moderate Arab?'
Ahmed replied, 'Someone who ran out of ammunition.'
I knew a couple of good ones, but I didn't want to be perceived as culturally insensitive. Well, okay, just one. I asked, 'How do you blind an Arab?'
Ahmed replied, 'Put a windshield in front of his face.'
Anyway, Ahmed drove a lot better than a Pakistani taxi driver, except now and then he did some weird things, but I knew he was trying to see if we had a tail.
Also, I knew we had a trail car somewhere, as we'd had for every trip to Bellevue. Bottom line on this, if the bad guys were watching and if they saw I was making regular trips to Bellevue Hospital, they might conclude that (a) I was getting much-needed psychiatric counseling, or (b) I was visiting a patient. And we didn't want them thinking about that.
Anyway, with all due respect to the driving abilities of certain foreign-born people, most of those gentlemen couldn't follow a car even if they were tied to the bumper.
We got to Bellevue without mishap and without company, and I got out and said, 'I'll call you.'
Kate's physical appearance was better, but she told me she was going a little stir crazy and wanted out.
I could have reminded her that being in the hospital was better than being dead, but I wanted to be sensitive to her state of mind, so I said, 'Think of this as a tough assignment that you can handle.'
'Get me the hell out of here.'
'You should talk to your jailer.'
Anyway, Kate had gotten a loaner laptop from 26 Fed, and she told me, 'I'm writing my incident report.'
'Good. Write mine, too.' I reminded her, 'We shared the same incident.'
She moved on to another subject and informed me, 'Mom and Dad want us to come visit as soon as I'm able to travel.'
'I don't really want to go to Montana.'
'Minnesota, John. Where we got married.'
'Right. Whatever.'
She changed the subject and asked me, 'What did you do last night?'
'Last night…? What did I do? I looked through our wedding album.'
She moved on to the next question. 'What are you doing tonight?'
'Sailing paper planes off the balcony.'
'Has Tom asked you to… go out and see if Khalil follows you?'
Good question, and I needed a nuanced reply. I said, 'Well, we've discussed that with Paresi. But only as a
