“That’s fine, Sydney. I just want us to get together and talk. When can we meet?”
“Tonight.”
“Okay. Let’s meet at-”
“At eleven thirty, Bayfront Park, in front of the central fountain.”
That wasn’t Jack and Andie’s plan, but Sydney hung up before Jack could respond. Jack put the cell phone away, looked at Andie, and said, “She’s following her own script.”
“She obviously doesn’t trust you,” said Andie.
“Or anyone else, I would imagine.”
Andie’s cell rang. It was her tech agent. The call lasted less than a minute, and then she shared the news with Jack.
“Sydney’s call to you was monitored,” she said.
“At least something went as expected,” he said, alluding to the curve Sydney had thrown them about the meeting place.
“The FBI can work with her ad-libbing,” said Andie. “But that doesn’t mean you have to, Jack.”
Jack thought about it. “If Merselus wanted me dead, I’d already be dead.”
“That’s one way to look at it. But this is not without risk. Merselus could figure out that you’re trying to set him up and retaliate. He could come around to the view that you’re the only thing standing between him and Sydney and decide it’s time to take you out. Any number of things could go wrong.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“I want you to go in with your eyes open.”
Jack weighed it another minute, his gaze drifting down the hallway and coming to rest on the door to the guest bedroom, where
Andie didn’t answer.
“And while I’m at it, maybe I should tell the Laramore family that I have to drop their case against BNN because it could be dangerous to find out who grabbed their daughter by the throat. And I can just keep using Theo’s cell for the next six months while the FBI monitors my private phone lines, I can send Max to go live permanently with the Kayal family, and I can just forget about ever taking another walk from my office to Theo’s bar unless I want to get choked by some psycho jumping out of the bushes.”
“It’s maddening, I know.”
“Way beyond maddening,” said Jack.
“So, it’s a go?”
Jack started toward the front door. “Yeah,” he said as he grabbed his car keys from the hook on the wall. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Fifty
Jack reached the park about ten minutes early, not quite eleven twenty.
As the name implies, Bayfront Park abuts Biscayne Bay in downtown Miami. Biscayne Boulevard, the city’s widest thoroughfare, borders on the west, separating thirty-two acres of greenery, walkways, and serenity from the sheer face of the towering Miami skyline. To the south is the high-rise hotel from which the big glowing orange drops every New Year’s Eve-which Jack and Andie had learned the hard way was the perfect place for folks who hate cold weather but love that Times Square feeling of ringing in the new year while drowning in a sea of loud, drunken strangers.
“I see you,” said Andie, her voice somewhat mechanical sounding in his earpiece. Jack did not reply; he had no microphone, as moving his lips could have tipped off Merselus that he was wired for communication.
“Walk a little slower if you can hear me,” said Andie. She was confirming his reception.
Jack slowed as he approached the Flagler Street entrance to the park’s main east-west axis. The central fountain was in sight and due east, halfway between him and the shoreline. The Miami Dade Courthouse was a short ride away on the elevated Metromover. Over the years, in many a trial, Jack had strolled past the park’s central fountain on his way to the beach chairs on the shoreline, where he would consult with passing dolphins and manatees on what verdict his jury might return.
“Okay, we’re good,” said Andie. “Keep moving.”
Jack resumed walking at his normal pace. Each step took him deeper into the canopy of tall trees and farther away from the urban glow of the office towers behind him. Soon he was entirely dependent on the moon and the streetlamps that lined the walkway to break the darkness. The amphitheater was up and over the embankment to his left, as was the Feng Shui Garden. Jack stayed on course, walking directly toward the fountain. It was quiet at this hour, essentially an oversize concrete bowl of motionless water on an enormous circle of coral-stone pavers in the dead center of the park.
“Stop,” said Andie.
He did. Jack was standing on the outermost ring of stone pavers that encircled the fountain. A string of park benches ran along the outer perimeter. Jack counted five homeless people asleep on the benches.
He wondered if one of them was Merselus.
Jack’s phone rang. The tech agents had rigged it so that Andie could hear.
“Answer it,” said Andie.
Jack took the call, expecting it to be Merselus. It wasn’t.
“Meet me on the platform at the Bayfront Station,” said Sydney.
Jack turned around. Miami’s Metromover was an elevated tram system that wound through downtown and the financial district. Jack could see the Bayfront Station from where he was standing, but this wasn’t part of the plan at all.
“What?” he said.
“You heard me.”
“Sydney, what are you doing?”
“Bayfront Station. Eleven forty-five.”
The call ended. Jack checked the time. He had fifteen minutes-enough time, but none to waste. He walked while waiting for Andie’s instructions.
Andie moved into reactive mode. She and her tech agent were inside an FBI special communications van, which was parked at ground level inside the garage at One Biscayne Tower, directly across the boulevard from the park. Two tech agents in the field were feeding her live-streaming video from surveillance cameras. She radioed position one on the rooftop.
“Novak, can you get Bayfront Station from your current location?”
“That’s affirmative,” he said.
She knew position two-one of the “homeless” on a park bench near the central fountain-would be useless in his current location. She radioed him with instructions: “Hernandez, relocate to the top of the embankment at the amphitheater. You will be eye level with the Bayfront Station platform.”
“Roger that.”
She checked the map on the computer screen. No changes to perimeter control were required-the same streets and alleys were implicated. The ground team, however, required adjustment. Andie started with the undercover agent who was dressed, wigged, and made up to resemble Sydney Bennett-the bait to draw out Merselus.
“Pederson to Bayfront Station. Eleven forty-five arrival.”
“Roger,” came the reply.
The rest of the ground team also needed adjustment if they were going to be in position to move in when Merselus showed his face. There were two more homeless guys, a touristy couple strolling in the park, a guitarist with a plate of coins sitting outside the entrance to the Metromover station.
“Position three, to south entrance of Bayfront Park; position four, to bus stop at Flagler; position five, to corner of Southeast Second Street; position six”-the guitarist-“stay exactly where you are.”
