“Yeah,” said Fisher, changing direction.
“Where we going?”
“Get some smokes. And a map of the train line.”
“There’s a train on Staten Island?”
The Staten Island train line ran down the eastern side of the island, from St. George to Tottenville. It ran far less often than the subways did, however. It connected to the ferry stop, and Fisher saw that it was unlikely their man had taken the train: With one exception, he made his phone calls before the train arrived at the terminal.
The bus system, on the other hand, was extensive; the possibilities led almost literally all over the island. So Fisher returned by necessity to his first theory: that the courier had made the call after walking from the area on foot.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” said Macklin after they walked around a bit more.
Fisher did what he always did when he couldn’t figure something out: He lit a cigarette.
Actually, he did that when he could figure something out too.
“It’s okay, Andy. You can’t break every case, and you can’t always be right. Staten Island ’s just a red herring,” said Macklin.
Fisher took a long draw and wondered if Camel had altered its blend, or if cigarettes just tasted different on Staten Island.
“Even the best gumshoe comes up dry sometimes,” added Macklin. “Let’s head back.”
Fisher, starting to feel cold, agreed. They were waiting for the ferry when Macklin’s cell phone rang.
“Going to take us a while to get there,” Fisher heard Macklin say after he answered.
Then he added, “Oh.”
“What’s the deal?” asked Fisher.
“It was Kowalski. They tracked one of the calls to a warehouse and they want to put a team together to raid it.”
“Where is it?”
“Three blocks from the pizza parlor.”
Chapter 12
“The granite counter is a dead giveaway,” said Alice, swinging her hand across the room. “When you see it in an ad, it means the place is going for over three thousand a month. But it also tells you you’ll get other amenities, like the whirlpool, which isn’t always mentioned.”
“Like a code, huh?” asked Howe, following her as she walked through the large kitchen into a much larger dining room. She led him back out into the hallway, showing off the unit’s third bathroom. A chandelier strung with crystal beads hung down in the center at about eye level in front of the mirror. It was so bright that Howe had to look away when Alice turned the light on.
“They’d have to fix that,” she said.
“Make it less bright?”
“No, raise it. It’s down to make it easier for cleaning.”
“A lot of places have chandeliers in the bathroom?”
“It’s a half-bath,” she said, as if that were an explanation.
Howe gave a mumbled “Mmmph.”
“Five-five a month,” she said, leading him back to the living room.
“As in five thousand five hundred?” he asked.
She nodded. “They might come down a little.”
Howe and the real estate agent had spent the past three hours working their way up the price chain. While he had some rough ideas now of what things cost, in truth he was no closer to knowing what sort of place he wanted to live in.
Except that this wasn’t it.
“I don’t know about this place,” he said.
“Well, is the price range okay?”
It seemed outrageously high, but everything did. Using the base salary figures that Blitz and the others were throwing around, though, he could easily afford it. But did he want a place with a crystal chandelier in the bathroom?
“It’s not so much the price as—”
“It’s too ostentatious,” she said, finishing his sentence.
“Yeah. I’m not that formal. I’ve spent most of my time in the military, and, uh, not that I don’t appreciate nice houses or anything…” he said, flustered again. “What kind of place would you live in? This?”
“Here?” She laughed. “I couldn’t afford this.”
“Let’s say you could. Where would you live?”
“Tell you what, I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s get something to eat and we’ll think about it some more.”
“Great,” said Howe.
They were just getting out of her car when Howe’s cell phone rang. He fumbled getting it out of his pocket, then thought maybe he shouldn’t answer; this wouldn’t be a good place to get into a discussion with a senator or one of the other influential people he’d called to sound out about the post. But habit and duty conspired to make him snap it open.
“Colonel, stand by for Dr. Blitz,” said Blitz’s assistant.
“I have to take this,” Howe told Alice.
“I’ll wait.”
“It’s kind of—”
“Your girlfriend?”
“No, I’m not — It’s business.”
She had a smirk on her face; Howe thought she hadn’t believed what he’d said about it not being a girlfriend. “I’ll be inside,” she told him. Howe watched her walk away as Blitz came on the line.
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you, Colonel. What’s up?”
“I’ve been talking to people about those UAVs I saw in Korea,” said Howe. “I think they’re significant.”
“UAVs? What, at the base?”
“In the hangar there. I mentioned them. And they should be in the reports. I was talking to Mark Dalton over at NADT, and to Howard McIntyre.”
“How is Mac?”
“I think he’s fine.”
“He’s a good man. We have to get him back to work.”
“I’d like to talk to the CIA about what I saw,” said Howe. “According to Dalton, the aircraft would be pretty potent. And we don’t seem to know about it.”
“Tell you what, Colonel. There’s an evaluation group at the Pentagon working with some of my staff and coordinating with the intelligence community. Why don’t you talk directly to them. My assistant will make the arrangements. Have you spoken to Senator Elwell yet?”
“About this?”
“No, about NADT. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Listen, I’m going to see Elwell tonight. I’ll make sure he calls you tomorrow. Thanks.”
Blitz snapped off the line.
Chapter 13
