Glass Ceilings (23 page)

I circled the block twice before parking around the corner from the address Ben supplied. The neighborhood was a mix of seedy businesses operating in run-down buildings. A bodega seemed to be the epicenter with customers coming and going, and I could only assume their sales weren't of the legal kind.

In spite of the early hour, a bar across the street gave a fishbowl view of more than one drunken loser drowning his problems in cheap booze. The finishing touch on this heartwarming sliver of Americana was a strip joint that left no doubt of the activity hidden behind its blacked-out windows.

Smack in the middle of the block was a black metal door. The street number scrawled across it in silver paint marked it as David's current residence. Below it hung a dirty sign instructing anyone who'd be looking to rent this palace to inquire next door. Glancing above to the second floor, two windows looked down on the street. They were both covered in cheap paper shades found at most hardware stores, their dingy color making them even more opaque than normal.

Next door was a burger take-out joint, and I couldn't help but wonder who the fuck would eat there. With each step I took into the place, my shoes stuck more to the filthy linoleum. The man behind the counter had a face that could have easily adorned every Manhattan police station's “wanted” board.

“Who owns the building?” I asked once he acknowledged my presence.

“Who wants to know?”

With my eyes pinned to his, I retrieved my badge and flashed it so close to his beady bloodshot eyes I almost touched his nose. “FBI.”

Boredom morphed to panic. “Hey, I don't want trouble, man.”

“Then we should be good as long as you cooperate.” I followed his eyes as they darted toward the back of his store. On any other given day, I would've fucked with this dude. Today I had one agenda, and this fucker was going to help me.

Once his eyes found their way back to my face, I pulled out David's picture. “Have you seen him?” I watched with disgust as he raked a shaky hand through his greasy hair. Losing my patience after a long pause prompted me to prod him a bit. “Answer the fucking question, or I'll make your life fucking hell.”

“Unit two.”

“How many units are there?”

“Two. The other one is vacant.”

“Is he home?”

“I don't know, man. I only see him on rent day.”

“Guess what? Today is rent day.”

“But it ain't.”

“Don't care.”

“Aw, fuck.” His high-pitched squeak combined with his cartoonlike bulging eyes almost made me laugh out loud. “Really?”

“Really. You're gonna take me upstairs, knock on his door, and ask for the rent.”

“What if he ain't there?”

“Then you get to wait with me until he gets back.”

“Aw, fuck,” he repeated.

I waited while he reluctantly locked up his register and pocketed a key ring off the counter. Out on the sidewalk, I swept my gaze up and down the street before following him through the metal door. My eyes fought to adjust to the dim lighting in the nonexistent foyer. There wasn't much to see besides two recessed metal mailboxes and a dank stairwell. Reflex had my hand on my gun as I followed him up the steps that rose to the second floor. He stepped to the door facing the front of the building and knocked once.

“Landlord! Rent's due.”

When no one answered and no noise came from the other side of the wood, I placed my finger over my lips before mouthing,
Open it.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. Seconds later, I busted through the door, coming face-to-face with a gun-wielding David.

“Get lost,” I said to the owner of the building. He scurried down the stairs like a fucking rat. “Nick Farley,” I offered to David as he watched me like a hawk with his gun pointed right at my head. “Your sister's been worried sick over you.”

“She knows I can handle myself.”

“You don't want to shoot me any more than I want to shoot you.” In a deliberate move, I lowered my gun and holstered it. It took a full minute before he did the same. He easily had twenty pounds on me, and most of them sat on his shoulders.

“Nice place.” My eyes took in the squalor he lived in.

“I've lived in worse.”

“I got your message about Gortez through Luca, and I'm here to talk.”

“I know you are, and I've been waiting for you to show.”

“Why?”

“I needed you to come to me. Gave me a chance to do my homework on all you Feds.”

What the fuck does that mean?
“How long have you known I was FBI?”

“Weeks.” David shut and locked his door before plopping down on the filthy couch. Pointing to a straight-backed chair beside a dilapidated wooden table, he said, “Have a seat. I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have any.”

“Did you do it?” I remained standing, while he leaned into the back of the couch leisurely.

“No.” His response was loud and immediate. “I didn't kill him.”

“Then why are you hiding?”

“Well, brother-in-law, that'd be the fucking million-dollar question now, wouldn't it?” He stood and walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out an envelope.

Something told me by the way he flipped through the pictures inside it with a scowl that I should probably take a seat. He threw the same picture Luca had forwarded to me on the table.

“How much did Ang tell you about Ronnie?”

“I know it all, up until the day your sister was sitting at headquarters waiting to be interrogated on his murder. The day I found her again.”

“Good. Then I don't have to go backward to fill you in.”

“Why is there an APB out on you?”

“My guess is because they are framing me for Ronnie's murder.”

“They…as in the FBI?”

“That's right.”

“You're fucking delusional. You were there. I know they ID'd you on the security tapes.”

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “Yeah, I was there. I'd been watching Ronnie like a hawk for weeks. I first contacted him after he paid Angela a visit. I told him if he stepped within five feet of her ever again, I'd kill him. He was amused by my threat. I never told my sister this, but he had been watching you for years. He's who tipped me off that you were FBI.”

“Angela assumed you found out on your own.”

“Nope, but I would have found out eventually.” The look on his face was one of complete boredom. “After that, I started doing some of my own investigating and found out he was working with Gortez. That's why I was there that day he got what he deserved. I was about to pay him another visit, but got there too late.” David threw another picture on the table showing Ronnie and Gortez leaving Ronnie's building together. He moved to the couch and sat again, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his spread knees.

“When I saw Gortez fly out of that building, I snapped the picture of him getting into a black sedan before driving away. He didn't see me. I went up to Ronnie's apartment, seeing nothing. His door was shut and locked. I had no idea he was dead behind that door until the FBI brought me in. Some older agent questioned me on my whereabouts that day.”

“George Whitney?”

David nodded. “He asked me a ton of questions. I answered none of them, assuming Gortez killed Ronnie. I wasn't about to fucking share what I knew yet, especially to the Feds. At that time, they still had no proof it was me leaving the building.”

I folded my arms, impatiently waiting for the punch line to his amusing joke. I knew all this, and wanted to find out why he was sporting a hard-on for the FBI.

“Whitney told me I was a person of interest and to stay local. On my way out, I walked past another agent who looked me in the face long and hard. I recognized his face, but just didn't know from where. It wasn't until I was in my apartment when I remembered. He was the man driving Gortez away from Ronnie's building the day he was murdered.”

“What?” I said on exhale as all the air left my lungs, causing a tightening in my chest.

His arrogant smirk returned. “You heard me.”

I had. I'd heard every fucking word he just said, but my brain wasn't registering any of it. My mind went into overdrive trying to process what he'd just told me. Assuming there had to be a legit reason and refusing to think otherwise, I pathetically suggested, “Gortez must be cooperating with us.”

“No. He isn't cooperating, Farley,” he said with a raised brow. “Not every agent is a good one.”

“Fuck.” It could have been any one of the hundreds of agents who worked at headquarters. “What did he look like?”

David walked back to where I sat and produced yet another picture of Gortez in an alley speaking to a familiar man. “Know him?”

Bile slowly rose up the back of my throat. “We have to get out of here. No doubt he's watching me and knows I'm here. You're coming to my place with me. I'm not going back to your sister without you, and I'm not letting you out of my sight until I fucking figure this out.”

Desperation took over. Everything I'd thought I knew up until five minutes ago had changed with seeing that last picture.

Surprisingly, David nodded without argument. “The only way I can be sure they're safe is if I'm protecting them.”

“They?” It occurred to me who he meant. “
I'll
keep them safe.”

“You don't know enough to keep them safe. Your head is buried too far up your own FBI ass.”

A quick knock caused our eyes to cut toward the door.

Fuck. I led him right to David.

We both darted to standing positions. He moved to the door, while I went to the window and with a fingertip, I moved the paper blind a crack to get a view of the street. Seeing nothing unusual I stood with my back to the wall while slowly removing my gun from its holster. I watched as David put a hand on his own gun, meeting my eye before opening the door.

“Having a party?” A voice I knew well filtered into the room, making the already stale air putrid.

“Hands up and step back, now!” David followed orders, moving several paces backward to put distance between them. “You and your brother-in-law comparing notes? Come out here, Nick, and give me your gun or I put a bullet through his head.”

The bile churned to acid in my gut. Not knowing who was with him, he left me no choice but to step into view. When I did, his eyes moved from David to me before they darted back to David.

He held out a gloved hand. “Hand it over.” I placed my gun in it, my mind casting about for a possible way out of this…but all thoughts were on Angela and Nicholas. “Now, get me his gun.” He motioned with his gun toward David. I pulled David's gun from where it was tucked into the small of his back. “Drop it and kick it toward me, then stand beside him!”

He immediately bent to retrieve David's gun from where it had slid at his feet and holstered it.

“You too, Farley. Hands up!”

Once he had my gun pointing at David, and the gun he came in with pointed at me, he muttered, “Now I'm ready.”

David remained stone still beside me with both hands in the air. If it weren't for his chest rising, I wouldn't know he was breathing.

“You disgust me, Rupert.”

“That's harsh, isn't it, Nick? Especially coming from you. I've taught you everything you know.”

“Fuck you, Rupert. I'm nothing like you.”

“Everyone can be bought, including you. Maybe not in the form of currency, but a hot wife, a baby—there are all sorts of ways to compromise integrity.”

“How did you know I was here?” I asked a stupid question, to stall mainly.

“I planted a tracking device on your car the day I dismissed you. I've been watching you for weeks. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away, Nick, and I counted on that. My instinct told me you'd lead me right to him. It's who you are, and why you impressed me.”

“I have to give you credit, Rupert. I never saw this coming.” This man had been my mentor, my advisor. So many times, his praise had fueled me to continue busting ass in my job. When nothing made sense in my life, Rupert was the one who had kept me going with the endless caseloads he'd sent my way. I'd handled them all, and now I wondered how much of my hard work had really been to disguise his lack of it.

“Why would you? You may be the best I have, but you are also the most loyal. The agency is a god to you, and I've watched you worship it for years. Your only fault, Nick, is just how much trust you put in our badges. I have to admit at first I thought everything would be ruined when we discovered your current fuck was involved in all this. But, miraculously, it worked out well for me. Gave me the perfect excuse to get rid of you.”

Anger practically blinded me; the way it coursed through my veins made it nearly impossible to keep my composure. I fought hard to channel it, reaching within myself to stay calm to play the part Rupert expected. As I stood arguing with him, I hoped David was planning our next move, because my only course of action was to keep stalling.

“Who's working with you?”

“You'd be amazed.” Was George involved? The thought made me feel sicker.

“What do you get out of it?”

“A fortune. Gortez made me a very wealthy man, and I didn't even have to get my hands dirty…until now. I guess it's a small price to pay, though.”

“You'll never get away with this, Rupert.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. My record is squeaky clean, Nick. You, on the other hand, ignored orders, found David, and came here to bring him in. Unfortunately, David shot you with one of the guns Gortez peddles.” He lifted his right hand to emphasize his point. “But that was right before you shot him with yours. You'll die a hero. Your wife will be sickened her brother was a murderer, and proud her husband was a good agent.”