False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) (30 page)

The street was empty apart from one unmarked car with two men inside that was parked next to a children’s playground. He could not really make out who the cops were from that distance, but he knew they were the backup for tackling the hero in the kitchen.

Some back up
! he thought to himself. In fact he was surprised they were still there.

Inside the police car the driver looked across at his large partner, who was eating a sandwich like it would be his last. Pieces of chicken and mayo clung to his large fatty chin as he shovelled in another mouthful.

His thin partner watched with disgust. “You eat like a friggin’ animal, you know that?” he told him.

The large cop smiled and belched loudly, just to annoy his partner more.

In response, the thin cop shook his head and looked away towards the side window, just in time to see a fire extinguisher heading for it. The men ducked and covered their faces as the beads of glass covered both of them.

The thinner man felt himself being pulled back towards the door quickly, his head impacted with the side of the door frame and then the steering wheel, with a little help of course.

Half concussed, the cop didn’t feel Steel reach in and relieve him of his sidearm. The English detective tossed the hand-held fire extinguisher onto the ground and pointed the cop’s gun at them both.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “Now if you would be so good as to take out your weapons and throw them onto the back seat, using your other hand and holding it by the grip with two fingers, that would be great.”

The fat cop struggled to get his weapon but did as he was told. Steel backed away from the car but kept them at gunpoint. “Okay, gentlemen, what do you want with the girl?”

Steel didn’t really expect an answer straight away. One of the officers was half dazed, while the other looked as if he was about to soil himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!” the smaller officer told him. “Look, you idiot, we’re cops so you’d better put down the gun.” He nursed his sore head.

“It’s funny but your partner was a cop as well, and he told me you were waiting for him. So I’ll ask you once again, what do you want with the girl?” Steel’s words were full of venom, for he hated dirty cops but the ones who hurt kids he hated even more.

“Fuck you, buddy!” the thin cop snarled defiantly, as though he would rather die than talk. “What now? Are you gonna kill us?”

Steel smiled and shook his head. “No. We’re just going to have a little chat. Take out your cuffs, both of you. Now cuff yourselves through the steering wheel.” Steel gave his orders, all the while pointing the gun at the thin cop’s crotch.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with!” growled the thin cop.

“Oh, I have a fair idea. You see your friend was most forthcoming on a couple of facts. It’s amazing how compliant someone can be once you have found that one thing that makes them crumble.”

The two men looked at each other, their hands still raised.

“For instance,” the Englishman went on, “if you tell a guy you’re going to shoot him dead, chances are he will be a hero and think: ‘Go for it, it’s quick and it’ll soon be over’.”

The two cops looked at each other and an expression of fear crossed their minds as they realised he was some kind of homicidal nut job.

“But it’s different if you threaten a guy with pain. I am not talking about breaking fingers—pain like that comes and goes. No, I am talking about pain that
stays
. For instance with your friend I threatened to pour red-hot cooking oil over him. Now that is pain that stays.”

The fat cop lost control of his bladder, forcing the other cop to edge away.

“So, so, what are you going to do with us?” The sandwich cop stumbled with his words.

Steel walked forwards and smiled at him. “Let’s just try a little experiment, to see if my theory is right.”

The two cops looked at one another, fear gripping them both.

The detective walked back to the church, but soon returned with two large fuel cans and placed them down close to the vehicle that held the two men, who were now shaking with abject terror.

The thin man regarded the fuel cans and looked at the stranger, who was now sitting on one of them.

“So is this your plan?” asked the brave officer. “Scare the crap out of us then let the cops find us, right?”

Steel stood up and shook his head. “No, not quite. You see I don’t intend to kill you.” Steel picked up the cans and shook them individually to show the men that they were full of fuel.

The large man wet himself again.

“So this is how it works,” Steel told them. “I ask a question and you answer. Simple. However, if I think you are lying or you piss me off you get a soaking. Get it?”

The men nodded, just in case that was one of the questions.

“Great, so you said I don’t know who I am messing with. My first question is: who am I messing with?”

Fear paralysed the bent cops, and the two men shook their heads.

“We don’t know man, I swear,” begged the large cop. “We just know it’s someone big. We just get told what to do. I swear that’s the truth, so help me God.”

“Who tells you what to do? Is it Bennett?”

Fatty nodded, as the thin cop tried to kick him.

“What the hell you doing?” demanded the big man. “He’s not gonna kill us if we don’t talk. And he’s a cop, just like us.” He spoke with more confidence as he suddenly recognised Steel from Bennett’s description. He’d told them:

“Be on the lookout for a man dressed all in black with sunglasses on. You can’t miss him, he’s a British prick.
”

The thin cop remembered the warning as if it was fresh in his mind.

Steel smiled, flipped the lid of the can and covered the men and the car in gasoline. The powerful fumes filled their nostrils, making them cough and causing their eyes to burn.

“Are you fuckin’ happy now?” Fatty yelled at his partner. “The guy is nuts and you want to provoke him!”

“Like I said, I won’t kill you,” Steel reassured them.

The thin cop smirked as though he knew this detective was too self-righteous for such a deed.

“However, I won’t stop you from killing yourselves.”

The men’s jaws dropped as Steel took out a flare he had gotten from the trunk of the cops’ car.

“The judge! She had files!” barked the large cop.

Steel moved forward with the flare in one hand. “What sort of files?”

The large man shook his head as he fought to get his breath. “I don’t know, I just know she had some evidence or something and that’s why her career was taking off so fast.”

At last things were beginning to slot into place slowly, but Steel knew that he needed those files. He knew that the cops he was working with wouldn’t know where they were, for if they had they would have found them by now.

John thought for a moment. He knew that the boys were searching for something to do with a painting. Maybe the painting concealed the location of a safe.

“What did you want with the reporter’s research material?” the detective asked them. “It was you two who took it, right? I remember the descriptions. Nice touch with the fake moustache by the way.” he joked.

The men were silent, but it didn’t really matter, he had what he needed. Taking the other can he soaked the ground surrounding the vehicle with more gasoline, then Steel lit the flare and stuck it into the big man’s mouth.

“You hold the flare tight. Only if he gets hurt, or you spit or drop it,” he warned, “and, well, happy Fourth of July.”

Steel walked off, leaving the two men screaming for help. His face was like stone, devoid of emotion.

The Englishman pulled out his cell phone and autodialled for Tooms, then waited for him to pick up.

“Tooms? It’s John,” he said. “Did you get anything in the office?”

There was a muffled response from the handset.

“Okay, Tooms. Meet me at the judge’s house. I think I know what we are looking for.” As he cut the call, Steel hailed a cab that was just passing by.

The driver stopped and looked at Steel as he approached.The cabbie waited until Steel had gotten to the window before asking, “Where you going to, man?”

Steel gave the judge’s address and sat back as the cabbie sped off.

As they turned the corner the night sky was illuminated by an orange glow. Steel just caught a brief glimpse of a reflection of the flames in a building’s window and he smiled top himself.

“Two less dirty cops to deal with,” he muttered with satisfaction, then rested his head on the cushioned headrest and sucked in a large breath.

He knew that this was just the beginning.

McCall followed the G
wagon for what seemed like hours. At first she thought they were lost but she figured the roundabout route they were taking was a way of making sure they weren’t being tailed. The German 4x4 took turnings and directions that made no sense.

“Where are they going?” Megan asked, her voice sounding confused and excited.

“It’s a trick to see if you’re being followed,” McCall explained to the younger woman. “The challenge for us is not to be seen to be following them.”

Megan looked over at McCall with a childish grin, as if she were just hitching an illegal ride at Disneyland.

“Look, they’re parking!” Megan yelled, thrusting an arm forward, just in case nobody else had noticed. The other vehicle pulled up opposite a nightclub.

The bright lights from the club’s huge advertising monitor on the wall lit up the street.

Normally there would be the kind of queue of people that was only surpassed by a book signing from the author of that Harry Potter kid. Above the monitor the words ORION glared out in blue and red neon. Tonight it was closed, but the large screen had been left on for business reasons.

“That must be DC’s club,” McCall said as she pulled back the top slide of her gun enough to see the glint of a brass casing, then she re-holstered her weapon. As they watched, four men got out and headed down an alley. McCall figured that it led to the back entrance to the club.

“Okay, you guys stay here and wait for the cavalry,” McCall ordered as she sent a text to Tony and another to Tooms, saying:
Suspects at the Orion club.

“What if the cavalry get here too late?” asked Gabriel as he looked at the girl sitting on the back seat.

“Take my car and get to the precinct and ask for Detective Bennett, he will take care of her,” McCall instructed him.

Gabriel repeated the detective’s name again, as if burning it into his memory. McCall opened the car door and got out. “Good luck, Detective. I am sure the cavalry won’t be too far behind.”

McCall looked back and winked at the priest, then shut the car door and ran across the street into the shadows.

As she leant against a doorway she tried to conceal herself at the same time as getting the best view of the club as possible.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy getting in. The place was locked up and she needed to get inside somehow. And when she got in, what then? She was alone. Damn! Where was Steel when you needed him, she wondered?

McCall felt the phone’s vibration from her jacket pocket. She pulled out her phone and saw the text from Tony, saying:

I am en route with Agent Lloyd, Steel is with Tooms at the judge’s house.

McCall sighed, put the phone away, and then got ready for a long wait.

*

The cab carrying John Steel pulled up outside the home of the late Judge Mathews. He paid and got out, telling the cabbie to keep the change.

As the yellow cab sped off Steel turned to see a bright pair of headlights. As they grew closer he saw that they belonged to a black Dodge Charger driving towards him. Its paintwork glistened as the street lights reflected from its sleek body.

Tooms parked and got out of the car, and his stride towards Steel was heavy and strong.

“McCall has tailed the escapees to a club downtown,” Tooms told him without preamble. “It’s owned by Tyrell Williams’s brother, DC.”

Steel nodded as he took in the news. He knew that she would not go in alone, not without some sort of backup.

“You know we don’t have a warrant for this?” Tooms told him. “What makes you think he will go for it?”

The British detective turned and rested a reassuring hand on Tooms’s shoulder. “Have a little faith. He
will
go for it. Besides we don’t need a warrant if we have his consent.”

They walked up the front path of the house and Steel rang the doorbell. It took a while for someone to answer, and eventually what appeared to be one of the judge’s daughters answered. Her eyes were puffed up from crying.

“Hi,” Steel began. “I am Detective Steel and this is Detective Tooms. Is your dad there?” His words were soft and gentle, and he gave a small smile of understanding as she just stood there for a moment in hesitation.

The girl opened the door wider and let them in. Steel and Tooms thanked her and followed her to the judge’s study, where they found Mr Mathews sitting in the chair behind the desk.

Steel knocked on the glossy white door to attract his attention, a small double tap with his gloved knuckle. Mathews looked up at them, not really registering their presence at first.

“Mr Mathews, we are here from the NYPD,” John Steel began. “We are sorry for your loss.”

Mathews just sat there, holding a photograph of his wife. Fresh tears rolled down his face.

“Have you found my wife’s killer yet?” he demanded. “Have you found that bastard Armstrong?”

Steel stepped forwards and stood in front of the desk. “We are doing all we can to catch the people responsible for your wife’s death, sir. However, we need something from you.” Steel’s voice was soft but firm.

Mathews looked up at the stony features of the black-clad cop, this strange man who wore sunglasses during the night. He looked at the coldness emanating from this man who was standing in front of him and he had the instinctive feeling that he, too, had experienced the loss of a loved one.