Gray Night (27 page)

 “So you knew it wasn’t me and brought me in anyway?” I stood hollering. “Do you know how much time—”

 “Sit. Down.”

 I didn’t this time.

 “Adrian, I told you to be careful. You have a past. You have enemies. I’m not the kind to hold that against a man without good reason, but Harris was right. Lot of things point to you. Too much for coincidence.”

 I sighed but couldn’t calm down. Someone had taken Claire. Someone followed me to my home and took Claire. I was going to take her back.

 “I’m not claiming it’s a coincidence. I am involved. I’m investigating for the museum and have ran into some major players. Not a stretch things went bad.”

 “Maybe, but you’re missing an angle here,” Clark said in more of a lecturing tone.

 It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at him. I guess Claire was rubbing off on me.

 “The missing girl.”

 “Ruby Jordan?”

 He nodded. “That’s what you’ve spent most of your time working on sounds like. Almost all of it, in fact. Everything you’ve done working on the museum case the police have done as well and there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary going on with them. Only difference is the girl.”

 “That doesn’t mean anything, though. No one would act directly against the police. Not so overt anyway. Claire and I are easier targets.”

 “Maybe, maybe not. You’re still missing something. You said you’re worried about major players in the city, only reason they’d bother is if you were interfering. Since all you’re doing is looking into a theft at the museum and a missing girl in the Bronx…” he said, holding his hands up.

 “They’re connected,” I thought out loud. I tried processing that line of thinking. “Maybe not directly to each other, but to everything else going on. The big stuff. Claire said a major joint operation was getting ready to go down soon. A major offensive effort by the city to curb the growing drug war between Diamond Jack and Vitale. That’s the heart of it. That’s what has everyone on edge. The war is about to get white hot and pieces are being moved around the board. Damn it! Jack said as much yesterday morning.” It made sense. It felt right.

 Clark leaned forward in his seat, surprised. “You spoke to Diamond Jack?”

 “Not by choice. He stopped outside the medical examiner’s office while we were there and wanted to have a chat about what we knew. Even offered us a job.”

 Marion Clark whistled. “Boy, you don’t do things by halves do you? All right, so you need to find the connection between the museum and the rest of it. The drugs, Jack, Vitale, something, and pull the strings apart from there.”

 “Yes, but first Claire.”

 “That I can help with. Some anyway.”

 “Waitress give a description?”

 He winked at me. “Caucasian male, five foot six or seven, donut ring of greasy hair pulled into a ponytail, plaid suit, smoking a cigarette. Sound like anyone you know?”

 I slammed my fist on his desk hard enough to knock his glass ashtray off onto the floor.

 “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Clark said, bending over and picking up the ashtray, inspecting it for chips or cracks before setting it down.

 “Sleazy bastard eyeing Claire yesterday morning outside the examiner’s office. One of Jack’s men. ”

 “Can’t trust a crime lord who can you trust, right?” Clark said, walking around behind me. He undid my cuffs and threw them on the desk.

 I went to the sink and washed my wrists. “Going to be hell to pay for this.”

 “Bah, I’m too old to worry about that. Get the girl. I can take care of the city cops for a while. But Adrian, don’t go in all hot and bothered or you’ll both get dead.

You’re getting in over your depth. Got to be smart about it. You should take Djimon with you, Nick too. Hell, something like this, you should call agent Coughlin.”

 “Nick’s out of town and Djimon has responsibilities here if something goes wrong.” He didn’t know I wasn’t out of my depth. These were waters I’d learned to swim a long time ago.

 I dried my hands and came back out. “All I need are my car keys,” I said. He tossed them to me. “And those wide leather wristbands you took off at my place,” he tossed those over as well. Thank goodness for the paranoid ritual of getting dressed first thing each morning. “And someone that knows where to find Diamond Jack,” I said, putting the cushioned leather cuffs back on. My wrists instantly felt better. Thanks Claire.

 “It’s Sunday morning. He’ll be at The Piazza, in Midtown,” Clark said without hesitation.

 That begged all kinds of questions, but it would have to wait.

 “Thanks,” I said.

 He reached out and shook my hand. “Luck, son.”

 I left and ran down the sidewalk until crossing the street to the diner where my car was. I didn’t have time to run by the house, but Nick and I had a war bag hidden in the office. It was on the way.

 Then I was going to Jack’s to huff and puff and blow his goddamn house down.

Chapter Twenty-Five

 Thirty minutes later I slammed the brakes, fishtailing the Chevelle’s back end onto to the curb in front of the big double doors to The Piazza. They were chained shut. Clark was certain Jack would be there, but either way I wanted a look for myself. He’d crossed a line. If this is how he wanted to play, then game-the-fuck-on.

 I jumped out of the car, popped the trunk, and grabbed the chain I’d brought from Nick’s, latched one end to the car’s frame underneath and wrapped the other around the chain on the doors. I hopped back in the car and floored the accelerator. My rear tires barked , filling the rearview mirror with smoke. The car lurched forward in an ear-splitting eruption behind me as the doors exploded from the wall, crashing out into the street.

 I shut her down in the middle of the road and grabbed my war bag. I’d left the heavy equipment behind. Situation was delicate until I knew Claire was safe and out of the way, so I pulled out the ball-peen hammer. Don’t laugh. I once saw a bar room cleared with a cue ball in a sock. The hammer was tactical. It was also only three bucks at the hardware store.

 I walked up the steps and through the entrance I’d made and I wasn’t stopping until I found Jack.

 Blood red carpet filled the front room all the way down the hall straight ahead where two men came through the door at the end to check out the noise from what used to be the front door. A loud dance beat reverberated in the darkness beyond the door before the men shut it behind them. Both wore black pants, shoes, gloves, tie and an off-white jacket. I noticed their bright red handkerchiefs folded into perfect diamonds.

 They stopped and stared. Guess Diamond Jack didn’t get many walk-ins.

 “Hi guys. I’m here to see Jack. I don’t have an appointment,” I continued towards them.

 The taller of the two started to say, “What the fu—” when the other drew his gun from his shoulder holster.

 I sprinted forward the moment the tall guy opened his mouth and cleared the distance before the short one’s gun left his vest.

 I struck the back of his hand with the hammer, sending the gun flying behind ugly fake shrubbery, and followed with a hard snap of my left boot into the others groin, doubling him over. As I planted my left foot, I brought the butt of the handle down on the back of his head with a solid thud. He dropped as I spun the opposite direction, where the shorter man was going for the gun he’d dropped, and struck him in the kneecap with a sickening crunch that sent him to the ground.

 I whipped the hammer back and forth between the two men, working my way from shins and knees to elbows and wrists.

 The two men were left writhing on the floor after six seconds. I slid the hammer into my belt then reached into the tall man’s jacket. I drew his gun out, dropped the magazine, disengaged the slide, and took it apart, dropping the pieces to the floor. I walked over his short friend, grabbed his gun, and did the same.

 The tall one sat up and leaned against the wall looking grim.

 I tapped the hammer at my side. “Might want to give it a minute, you know?”

 He flexed his hand and winced, nodding his head.

 I had to give Jack credit. His boys were smarter than most. I filed that information in the back of my mind. Then I kicked in the door.

 The only light came from torches burning on marble columns centered around a raised sitting area near the middle with several leather couches occupied with a dozen men or so. Above was a series of large, tinted glass panes that muted the noon sun. The panes looked retractable. I bet they opened after dark.

 It was difficult to see more than three or four feet in front of me outside the light, but I could hear several fountains bubbling. I suspected the stone floor was marble as well. It really would resemble a small piazza with the roof off.

 Someone killed the music before I’d gone two steps. Half the couches cleared like a dugout charging the mound. No doubt who the pitcher was in that analogy.

 I drew my hammer and danced low, darting among them as they came at me, careful to avoid getting entangled in hands and arms. Shins cracked, kneecaps shattered, ankles busted, and toes were flattened before I stepped onto the dais and into the light.

 “Jack, we need to—” I started to say. Sleazy ponytail guy sat on the couch furthest from me with eyes so wide they reminded me of the bull’s eye on a target. So, that’s where I aimed. I hurled the hammer like a Norse god and it smashed into his nose with a gout of blood, driving his head back into the leather like a pile driver. A pile driver to the face.

 “Where is she?” I yelled, crossing the dais.

 He screamed, spraying blood all over himself. Red gushed through his fingers as he cupped his hands over his face still screaming.

 “Carson!” Diamond Jack hollered at one of the other men who was standing now. “Get him to the back office and stop the bleeding.”

 “Yes sir,” Carson said, walking wide of me and taking greasy ponytail guy under the arm to guide through the dark.

 “Stop right there!” I snapped at Carson.

 He did. Jack waved a hand and two men slid between me, and Carson and Ponytail.

 “Mr. Knight, I believe you wanted to talk to me. Well, you have my attention, but if you command one of my men again I will kill you,” Diamond Jack said, nodding towards my chest. I had acquired a tiny red dot on my heart at some point in the last few seconds. It looked like it was coming from the red light beneath the barrel of Argento’s machine gun. I hadn’t seen him draw it.

 The man, Carson, left with ponytail. It didn’t matter. Ponytail was an extension of Jack, and Jack was right in front of me.

 “Where’s Claire?” Subtlety, thy name is Knight.

 Diamond Jack blinked again. Twice. Either my instincts were on holiday, or Jack didn’t know what I was talking about. That meant…that meant I’d fucked up a large number of the closest associates to one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the city, defying his power in front of everyone, in the middle of his own territory.

 “Mr. Knight,” he said, grasping the situation at the same time. “You have come into my house,” the tiny red dots on my chest multiplied, “and attacked me and mine without provocation.” Jack himself drew a gun on me from inside his jacket. A modified 1911 Colt .45. Ah, crap.

 “And balance must be restored,” he said, cocking the hammer back and taking the time to aim.

 No, this wasn’t right. Think damn it. Ponytail was here. He took Claire this morning. He was here. At Jack’s. Jack hadn’t mentioned Claire one way or the other, but he didn’t have her. He was caught off guard by the accusation. Why would he take her only to kill me now anyway?

 What was it Clark said? Find how everything was connected, the common denominator, the basic element in the background. The drug war between Jack and Vitale. Shit. My instincts could be wrong about Jack, in which case I was about to die anyway, but if I was right…

 “I know who the traitor is,” I said in a rush.

 Two of the older men still sitting on one of the couches gave Jack a look heavy with meaning.

 “Argento, the lights, if you please,” Jack said, unmoving.

 Argento walked to a nearby marble column and flipped two heavy switches that brought a sterile white fluorescent light to the room. It ruined the dark mystique of the place.

 “Everyone please stand against the far wall,” Jack indicated to his men. Most were limping. The two older men glared for a second then shrugged and walked to the wall as well. Argento returned and stood next to Jack. Guess ‘everyone’ didn’t include him.

 Once they’d gone, Jack said, “How do you know there is a traitor?”

 “Mostly from how I’m not dead yet,” I said.

 “Fair point, Mr. Knight,” he said with a slight grin. “Why did you say it when you did then?”

 “Honestly? Because it was the best way I could think of to give you pause, and because I know it’s happening, and because I think you’re a clever enough fellow to be aware of it,” I said.

 “All right,” he said after a moment. “We both know what that kind of information is worth so, assuming for the moment you’re dealing in good faith, what do you want in exchange?”

 “It’s him,” I said, pointing to the bloody hammer on the leather couch. “Sleazy ponytail guy.”

 “You are either too stupid to understand how a negotiation works,” Jack said loud enough to illicit snickers and coughs along the wall, “or you’re wanting to point me at Lewis for a specific reason. Or you’re stalling to find a way out. I am reasonably convinced you are not stupid. At least, I was until you barged in here. As for reasons to point me at one of my men, Lewis has been with me since the beginning. Argento told me of your exchange outside the examiner’s office yesterday morning. No, I won’t have you coming in here with baseless accusations.”

 “There’s nothing baseless about it. Several people saw him this morning kidnap Claire outside a diner thirty or forty minutes north of the city. If you don’t know anything about it then he’s working for someone else, and a kidnapping isn’t exactly trial run material. Means he’s worked with them, whoever they are, for a while. Long enough to be trusted with something like this. Therefore, I don’t need to negotiate. It’s in your own interest to give him to me.” Lot of
if
there, but the logic fit.