Critical (44 page)

J
ack cringed from a new stab of pain from his freshly traumatized knee, as he'd forgotten where he was while reaching for the glass of water on his bedside table. Although the general, background pain hadn't gone away, the blissful narcotic had changed the pain's character such that Jack could easily ignore it. Jack had an intravenous setup with which he could control how much pain medicine he got. In that way, he was certain to get less, which was his goal. He knew that all the strong pain meds had a price to pay down the road, even if it was something seemingly simple like constipation.

From about noon on, Jack had been multitasking, meaning watching TV and flipping through magazines simultaneously. He'd brought some more serious reading, but he had a sneaking suspicion he might not get around to it until the following day, or the day after that, or maybe never. He liked just relaxing now that the big stress was over. The operation was history, and Dr. Anderson had popped in around eleven and reported that it had gone exceedingly smoothly. There was only one problem: Laurie had said she'd be by around noontime, and so far there had been no Laurie and no call.

By one, Jack had called the OCME, as he assumed she'd gotten held up, perhaps by there being so many autopsies such that she had to pitch in. But he learned the day had not been overwhelming. Speaking with Riva, Jack was told Laurie was in her office around seven that morning but that no one had seen her since. Thinking that she might have gone home, Jack had tried her there. When he didn't catch her, he left a message for her to call. With no other ideas of where she might be, Jack could only wait. Now that it was after two, he began to get seriously concerned.

After drinking his water, Jack was about to go back to his magazine and the TV when Lou Soldano walked in. He was doubly solicitous when he saw the contraption Jack's operated leg was Velcroed into. It was constantly flexing and extending the knee, which Lou envisioned as being constantly painful. After assuring the detective that it wasn't bothering him, Jack asked if he'd seen or heard from Laurie.

“That's why I'm here,” Lou said in a very serious tone. He pulled over an upholstered chair.

“I think you'd better tell me what's going on.”

“There was a very bizarre shooting this morning while you were under the knife,” Lou said. “It was right below your window, in fact. The victim was a man we knew little about since he was carrying false identification.”

Jack nodded. He had no idea how Laurie possibly could be in any way involved.

“As you know, New Yorkers are rather high on the hard-hearted scale, and when this shooting went down, not too many stopped, although we are hearing from more people as the day progresses. Of those who stopped, we haven't gotten consistent reports. Be that as it may, the individual had been chasing a woman out from behind the hospital.”

“So the woman shot this guy?”

“No, not the woman but some passerby who had leaped from a van with three other people. This guy shot the man who was about to shoot the woman, at least according to a couple of witnesses, but to corroborate the story, the shooting victim was carrying a silenced automatic nine-millimeter pistol rolled up in a towel.”

“Is the victim dead?”

“No! He's critical but not dead.”

“Have you been able to talk to him?”

“Nope. He had to undergo emergency surgery down the street at Beth Israel.”

“What about the woman? Have you talked to her?”

“Nope again. The woman was whisked off in a white van by the four men who had, of all things, pretended to be plainclothes police. I'm telling you, this is one weird case.”

“So how does this relate to Laurie?” Jack asked, although he was unsure if he wanted to hear.

“The descriptions of the woman, although they're not terribly consistent, could be describing Laurie, with some more so than others.”

Jack stared at Lou. His anesthesia-addled mind was struggling to process the information Lou was providing. Jack didn't like what he was hearing but wanted to remain hopeful. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You don't have any specific association of this apparently abducted woman with Laurie?”

Lou nodded. “Nothing specific, just the suggestive descriptions. That and the fact that no one knows where Laurie is at the moment. I mean, no one at the OCME, and certainly not you.”

“Good God!” Jack murmured. “And me a total invalid with a totally bum knee.”

Lou stood up and replaced the chair. He came back to the bed, where the flexing and extending machine was making a constant, low-pitched grinding noise. He reached out and gave Jack's arm a squeeze. “I just want you to know that I've got a thousand people, including myself, working on this and will be twenty-four-seven. We've been stopping white vans all over the city.”

Jack nodded. Although his knee felt reasonably well, he was now sick with fear.

B
y a little after eight, it was finally dark enough to suit Angelo for the quick ride over to the marina. That morning after they made the snatch, they'd driven south to a parking garage where Franco was known. With ease, they'd transferred a terrified Laurie from the white van to the blue one. At that point, Richie and Freddie had driven the white one back to Queens, where it disappeared into the motor pool.

Meanwhile, Angelo and Franco had driven the blue van with Laurie in it out to New Jersey, where they'd found a run-down motel of questionable morals with rooms rentable by the hour. What was most significant to Angelo was that the entrance to the units was up and around the back of the grubby office. Angelo had wanted privacy for escorting Laurie inside, and he had had it in spades. At that time of the morning, the motel had all but been deserted.

Richie and Freddie had returned just before noon, bringing with them takeout from Johnny's and a couple six-packs. The four men then had spent the early afternoon playing cards, eating subs, and generally enjoying themselves.

It had been after the card game that Angelo had finally attended to Laurie. After getting her to promise not to make a scene, he'd removed the duct tape from across her mouth and allowed her to spit out the gag. He'd then asked if she were thirsty, and when she'd admitted she was, he held a glass he'd prepared for her. Laurie had taken it despite its taste, and from then on, she'd been easy to take care of. Angelo had spiked the drink with one of his small, white date-rape pills. Later in the afternoon, they'd added another to make the switch from the van to the boat a piece of cake.

“Okay, come on, baby doll,” Angelo said, as he shook Laurie's shoulder. “We're going for a nice little boat ride.”

Without any trouble, they got Laurie from the motel room into the van. With two of the Rohypnol tablets on board, they didn't even need to rely on the duct tape, yet they elected to leave it on. With Angelo driving and Franco sitting shotgun in the van, and Richie and Freddie in Richie's car, the group made their way to the waterfront. Once there, they headed directly to the marina. All was going well until the pier itself came into view. At that point, they noted something they'd not seen the previous nights: another car.

Angelo braked and stopped the van. Richie pulled directly behind Angelo.

“Can you make out the make of the car?” Angelo asked.

Franco leaned forward so that his nose was practically touching the windshield. “It's hard to say, but if I had to, I'd say it was a Cadillac. A black Cadillac.”

Sitting back, Franco looked at Angelo. “Did Vinnie say he was coming?”

“Not to me he didn't. You think it's Vinnie's?”

Franco shrugged. “It could be.”

Angelo put the van back in gear and slowly drove forward. He didn't like surprises, and he knew Franco didn't, either. When they were fifty to sixty feet away, Angelo stopped again. This time, both men strained to see forward. “I think it is Vinnie's,” Angelo said.

Franco got out. And as he closed on the car, he could see it was Vinnie's. Franco walked around to the driver's-side window and knocked. Because of the tinting, he couldn't see in. But then, looking out the pier, he could see why. A light from one of the lower gallery's portholes was casting a dim, flickering beam across the water.

Walking back to the van, Franco approached on the driver's side. Angelo lowered the window. “It's okay,” Franco said. “It's the boss. He's already out on the boat.”

“I wonder how come,” Angelo said. He wasn't sure he wanted to share the upcoming experience with the whole city.

“Beats me.”

They parked, got Laurie out of the van, took the duct tape off her ankles, and walked her out the pier. Reminiscent of the snatch that morning, they had to hoist her practically off her feet, but not because she was resisting.

“I think you might have overdone the date-rape drug,” Franco said. Being nearly comatose, Laurie seemed to weigh a surprising amount considering her trim figure.

“Hello, men!” Vinnie called to them when they drew near. He had been standing in the shadows of the afterdeck, but now he walked out more into the open. Ice could be heard clinking in his old-fashioned glass. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by. I realized I didn't want to miss the fun. And I see you men have already got the quick-set and the other gear.”

“We got it yesterday,” Angelo said, “and got it on board today.”

“Good work,” Vinnie said calmly. “I also brought someone else with me.” He gestured back into the shadows. Reluctantly, Michael Calabrese stepped forward with a weak smile. “I got to thinking,” Vinnie explained, putting an arm around Michael's shoulders. “Mikey here seems to come up with all this work for you guys and for me but never gets his hands dirty. You know what I'm saying? It's just prudent business practice to have him participate. If push ever came to shove, he couldn't throw up his hands and say he didn't know what was going down when these nice people disappear.

“Angelo, I know this is mostly your show, but I didn't think you would mind sharing. Is that too much to ask?”

Angelo held his tongue as he and Franco maneuvered Laurie across the gangplank onto the yacht.

“I didn't hear your response,” Vinnie said.

“It's okay,” Angelo murmured, as he and Franco helped Laurie across the open afterdeck.

“There you go, Mikey!” Vinnie said, thumping Michael on the back. “Your fears are over. Angelo's glad to have you on board, so let's party.”

While Franco and Angelo were below, putting the deeply sleeping Laurie in one of the staterooms, Richie and Freddie manned the mooring lines. Vinnie happily climbed to the bridge, and with his scotch at his side, he started the twin diesels and eased the boat from its slip. As they motored out into the middle of the river, Vinnie called down for someone to put on one of his Frank Sinatra CDs. A few minutes later, Hoboken's favorite son was crooning away and massaging everyone's mental state.

It was a pleasant night. There was little wind and the water was calm. A scimitar moon was just peeking over the jagged, twinkling skyline of the city. To the north was the lighted George Washington Bridge with the Martha Washington level demurely beneath. To the south in the middle distance was their approximate destination: the illuminated Statue of Liberty. Within ten minutes, all worries, concerns, or irritation were blown away by the soft breeze and the loud but lulling sound of the engines. Everyone was either on the bridge or sitting on the gunwales in the stern, except for Laurie, who was sleeping off her unexpected medication, and Angelo, who was apparently beginning the preparation for the real reason they were all there.

Ten minutes later, Angelo appeared and asked Franco to help him move Laurie up to the afterdeck. “You are right. We overdid the date-rape pill. She won't wake up.”

Franco followed Angelo below, and Richie went as well, in case they needed more help. A few minutes later, the group appeared, carrying both Laurie and the five-gallon bucket into which her feet were sticking. Freddie jumped out of a folding chair so they could sit her down.

The group gathered around. Even Vinnie came down after putting the boat on autopilot. While Freddie ducked below for some rope to keep Laurie upright, Vinnie stuck his hand into the bucket to feel the consistency of the cement.

“Impressive,” Vinnie said, looking down into the bucket. Laurie's feet were buried up to mid-calf. “It's almost dry.”

“It only takes a half-hour,” Angelo said. “It's actually called hydrophilic cement. The guy at the Home Depot recommended it.”

Vinnie looked at Angelo and joked, “You didn't tell him what you were going to do with it, did you?”

Everyone had a good laugh.

“The problem is, she's passed out,” Angelo said, changing the subject. “I wanted her to suffer. Instead, she looks like she's enjoying herself.”

“Try to wake her,” Vinnie offered. “Maybe the fresh air will help.”

Angelo patted Laurie's cheek with the flat of his hand, but there was no response. He tried it harder. Still no response.

Vinnie looked across at Richie. “Head up to the bridge and drive this brute of a boat. We shouldn't leave it on autopilot. We don't want to take a chance of hitting anything.”

Richie reluctantly climbed the ship's ladder. He didn't want to miss the fun.

“You and me are just going to have to take what we get,” Vinnie said to Angelo. Then, to the group, he added, “Let's all have another drink and toast to Angelo's vengeance!”

As the boat bore down on the Statue of Liberty, the festivities hit high gear. A second Frank Sinatra CD had been put into the player, and when “My Way” came on, everyone sang. A few minutes later, when they got to the world-famous landmark, Vinnie yelled up to Richie to head out toward the Verrazano Bridge.

“Hey, it's my turn to join the fun,” Richie said. “How about someone else run this hulk!”

Vinnie looked at Freddie and hooked a finger in the direction of the ladder to the bridge. “Your turn,” he said with a slightly inebriated smile.

Twenty minutes later, Vinnie poked his finger into Laurie's bucket. The hydrophilic cement felt like it was supposed to feel. It was even cool. “I think she's ready,” he yelled at Angelo. Angelo came over and felt as well and nodded.

Vinnie went over and yelled up to Freddie to ease back on the throttle. Vinnie looked at Angelo. “This looks like as good a place as any.” They were in the mouth of the narrows with the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge dead ahead.

“Fine with me,” Angelo said, slurring his words.

“Freddie!” Vinnie yelled up the ladder. “Put it in neutral and come on down if you want.”

“Hey, everybody,” Angelo said. “It looks like the evening air has done her a world of good: She seems to be waking up!”

“Yes, she does,” Vinnie agreed.

“Let's give her a little time,” Angelo suggested. “I'd like her to know what's going on when we balance her on the stern with her cement boot on.”

“Perfect,” Vinnie said. “Time for another round.” Everyone cheered, even Richie, until Vinnie added, “Except you, Richie. Tonight, you're the designated driver.”

A half-hour slipped comfortably by as the men sat around Laurie and watched her slowly revive. There had been a lot of jerky movements over a fifteen-minute period, and finally her eyes had opened halfway.

Although it was obvious to everyone except Angelo that Laurie's lights were on but no one was home as of yet, Angelo insisted on talking with her in an attempt to get her to comprehend exactly what was about to transpire. Finally, he realized his efforts were in vain.

Standing up, Angelo steadied himself with his hand on the stern's gunwale. “Let's do it,” he said. He undid the rope around Laurie's torso, which had been holding her upright in the chair.

“I want you to help!” Vinnie said to Michael, giving him yet another slap on the back.

“That's quite okay,” Michael said. “I don't want to horn in on the fun.”

“Nonsense,” Vinnie countered. “It's a community activity. I insist.”

Michael studied Vinnie's face. He could tell the man was dead serious. Reluctantly, he moved to one side of Laurie's rag doll figure.

“All right, everyone!” Angelo said. “First, we stand her up!”

Although the boat was in neutral, the engines still made considerable noise, especially when the exhaust pipes went under the water's surface, a situation that produced loud popping noises reminiscent of gunfire.

Moving Laurie from the chair to the very back of the boat was more difficult than they had expected. She was so flaccid, several people had to keep her upright while the others had to lift the five-gallon bucket of concrete. At that point, they faced the daunting task of lifting Laurie and the concrete up onto the stern gunwale.

“All right on three,” Angelo said. Everyone was either grasping the weighty bucket or Laurie's floppy body.

Not everyone was immediately aware of a giant presence that had silently loomed out of the darkness, but certainly became so within seconds of each other. On the other hand, everyone was instantly frozen by the powerful and blinding searchlight beam, and everyone heard the word “freeze” as it was suddenly and loudly projected from a sizable directional speaker mounted on one of the larger vessels of the Harbor Police fleet. A second later, a grappling hook dropped over the yacht's gunwale and the two boats were quickly made fast. A moment later, uniformed police swarmed out of the blinding light and relieved the revelers of the burden of Laurie and her concrete boot.