Hell's Corner (51 page)
They each had a photo of Ming, and Knox also had one of Friedman, although it was doubtful the woman looked anything remotely like she had before.
“Six-block radius,” Stone repeated to them as they reached the Big Apple, which was fully awake by now as millions set off to work. Knox was going to roam in his wheels after he dropped the other three off in different locations around the South Bronx. The area they were in wasn’t exactly Park Avenue, but they were all armed and well capable of taking care of themselves.
Stone walked his route inward toward the deli. He had no need to look at Ming’s photo again. He’d memorized each of the man’s distinctive features, the most prominent of which was a pair of blank eyes. Stone knew if he weren’t a hired killer Ming would have simply become a sociopath and done the same thing for free. But even sociopaths made mistakes. Ming’s error had been using his credit card for a pastrami sandwich, a can of Sapporo and an order of fries.
While there were many gentrified areas of flourishing neighborhoods and retail strips, the South Bronx also contained over half of the borough’s public housing projects. And despite the presence of the new billion-dollar Yankee Stadium, about fifty percent of the population lived below the poverty line. Crime was a problem and there were parts of the area one should avoid. Stone and company were in precisely one of those areas.
However, Stone was less worried about domestic criminals than about a team of imported killers. His gaze kept moving, but as the sun rose high overhead and sweat began to trickle down his neck, he understood quite clearly that it would take a minor miracle to find them.
He was only hours away from getting one.
Chapman reported the sighting. She gave the address where she was. “He’s headed west, just crossing the street.”
The others moved in while Chapman relayed updates via texts.
She texted one last time and then called Stone. “He just went into what looks like a machine shop on… hang on. Uh, East 149th Street is what the sign says.”
“What’s the cross street?” Stone asked, and Chapman told him.
He said, “Now get some cover. They might be watching the street.”
She crossed over and entered an alley. She looked back at the four-story brick building. “It looks abandoned,” she said into her cell phone.
“Stay put and keep watch,” said Stone. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
In nine minutes Stone joined her in the alley. “I’ve got Knox and Finn approaching from the other side,” he told her. He glanced at the building. “Seen anything else?”
“Figure at a window on the third floor. Didn’t look like Ming. But I couldn’t be sure.”
Stone studied the area and wondered why Friedman would have chosen this spot to hide. Certainly parts of the South Bronx offered lots of space that no one else was using. Still, it was an odd choice, thought Stone. But he was coming to realize that Marisa Friedman was far more complex than he had originally believed. And he had thought she was quite talented to begin with.
He gazed southeast toward the East River where more than a few bodies had been dumped over the years. To the west was the Harlem River, beyond that upper Manhattan and beyond that the Hudson River where Interstate 95 connected the city with New Jersey to the south and New England to the north.
“What’s the plan?” asked Chapman.
“We sit on the place and observe.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes for us to figure out what they’ve got, who’s there and how we get to them at minimal risk to ourselves.”
“How about we call in NYPD and/or the FBI?”
Stone glanced back at her. “When you insisted on coming I took it for granted that you were going to follow my lead.”
“I will, to a limit. We need to do everything possible to ensure that Friedman gets back alive, to stand trial.”
“
You
said you were going to have a hard time not pulling the trigger.”
“I only said that to make you feel better. I’ll have no problem with it. She’s not worth screwing my life over. But the question is, can you stop yourself from pulling it?”
“If I have to, yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I seriously doubt the woman will walk out with her hands up so she can be tried, convicted and executed for treason. If she tries to harm anyone of my team I’ll do my best to kill her. I’m assuming you feel the same way.”
“How much weapons training does she have?”
“I checked her file. She’s got plenty. And all top of the grade performance-wise. Close-quarters and long-range.”
“And here I was thinking she was just a pretty face.”
Stone snagged her shoulder. “This is serious stuff, Chapman. No time for anything but your best game face. So cut out the wisecracks.”
She pulled herself free from his grip. “I’ll let my performance speak for itself. How about that?”
Stone looked away and took up surveillance on the building again.
A few minutes later he received a call from Finn. “In position. No activity back here. Two entry points. One center and one east of center. Appears to be locked and would assume watched. They might have a portable surveillance system in place too. At least I would if I were them and had picked an area like this to hole up in.”
“I agree with that, Harry,” said Stone. “Is Knox there?”
“Affirmative. What do you want us to do?”
“Let’s sit on the place and see what we can see. When we hit it, I want it to be as clean as possible. Any chance on getting the interior plan for this building?”
“Already downloaded it onto my phone.”
“How so fast?” asked a surprised Stone.
“Got a buddy in the city planning office. We served together in the navy.”
“Give me the layout.”
Finn did so.
“Lot of problem areas,” noted Stone.
“Agreed. Once we gain entry. That’ll be the hard part. Unobserved, I mean.”
“Keep watching. Report back every thirty.”
Stone ended the call and turned his gaze back to the old brick structure.
Chapman stirred behind him. “What if someone notices us in this alley?”
“Then we move.”
“I’ve never been to New York before. It’s not as glamorous as I heard.”
“That’s Manhattan, to the west over there. That’s the land of the rich and famous. The Bronx is a different experience. Some cool places and some not so cool places.”
“So I take it you’ve been here before?”
Stone nodded.
“Business or pleasure?”
“I’ve never traveled for pleasure.”
“So what’d you do when you were up here last?”
Stone didn’t even attempt to answer her query. And from her look, it was clear Chapman didn’t really expect a response.
Yet in his mind’s eye it was decades ago and Stone pulled the trigger on his custom sniper rifle, ending the life of another enemy of the United States as he walked across the street with his mistress toward the luxury hotel where they were going to have sex. His downfall had been ordering the execution of two CIA personnel in
Poland. Stone had put a shot through the right eyeball at the stroke of eleven p.m. from a distance of nine hundred yards on elevated ground with a breeze from the north that had given him a few anxious moments. The mistress hadn’t even known what happened until her dead lover hit the pavement. The NYPD and local FBI, tipped off to what was going down, had never attempted to solve the case. That’s just how it was done back then. Hell, thought Stone, maybe that was how it was still done.
He refocused on the brick building even as his index finger curved around an imaginary trigger.
S
IX HOURS LATER
S
TONE AND
C
HAPMAN
had moved to an empty building across the street. Filthy mattresses and dirty syringes signaled this for a “prick palace” for addicts, although it didn’t look like anyone had been there in a while. They’d entered through a rear door and settled themselves in for however long this would take. Stone opened his rucksack and handed Chapman a bottle of water, an apple and a hunk of hard bread.
“You know how to show a girl a good time, I’ll give you that,” was her only comment as she started in on her “meal.”
A bit later Stone’s attention was engaged when the front door of the building opposite them opened and Ming and another man came out, walked down the street and turned left. He immediately relayed this to Finn.
“You want me to follow them?” Finn asked.
“No. At this hour of the night they’re probably going for something to eat. They’ve been in there all day. You think you can get a peek inside one of the windows? If our intel is right, there should be ten others in there plus Friedman. But I’d like to get a more accurate head count.”
“The place is mostly dark, but I’ve got a Gen Four NV scope with me.”
“Be careful, Harry. These guys know what they’re doing.”
“Roger that.”
Twenty minutes later Finn reported back. “Got two sentries on the first floor, southwest corner. Assuming cocked and locked though no visible weapons. The others must be on the upper floors. That’s the best I can do with the scope.”
Knox got on the phone. “Hey, Oliver, what would you say if I could get my hands on a TI?”
“A thermal imager? How?”
“I know people here. Hell, I should have brought one with me.”
“How fast can you get it?”
“One hour.”
“Do it.”
Within one hour two things happened. Knox returned with his thermal imager, and Ming and his colleague came back and went inside the building. They were carrying large bags of what looked to be fast food.
Two minutes later Knox buzzed Stone.
Knox said, “Okay, I just hit the building as best I could. This device is rated for penetration of most construction materials, so brick, rebar and concrete block are no problem.”
“How many are you seeing?”
“I’ve got six images, all with SBAs,” said Knox, referring to soft body armor. “It blocks the thermal signal so it stands out pretty prominently.”
Stone looked perplexed. “Just six? You’re sure?”
“Wait a sec. Okay, now I see it, third floor I’ve got a thermal with no SBA.”
“Gender?”
“From the silhouette looks to be female.”
“Friedman.”
“Probably. But I’ve never met the lady. No way to do a positive ID from the TI anyway.”
“Thanks, Joe, you and Harry sit tight.” He looked at Chapman.
She said, “Okay, we have the players lined up, site locked down. Do we go in shooting or do we call in official reinforcements?”
“Some reason you keep harping on that theme?”
“I could say I was concerned we’ll all get shot. Well, I am concerned about that. But I’m more worried that some of us will be tempted to do things that we might officially regret later. Well, I’m worried that
one
of us will be tempted.” She looked at him expectantly.
“You can leave right now. No one’s stopping you.”
“It wasn’t an ultimatum on my part, merely a passive comment.”
“I don’t get you sometimes.”
“Just sometimes? I’m disappointed.”
“How many weapons do you have?”
“My Walther and a Glock. Four extra clips. You?”
“Enough.”
“A shotgun, MP-5 or TEC-9 would be nice in close-quarters combat.”
“Let’s hope the other guys don’t think that way.”
“You know they’ll be loaded.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You can’t exactly walk through the city with an arsenal without getting some attention from the NYPD.”
“Maybe they stashed it there earlier.”
“Maybe they did.”
“We can still call in backup.”
“We don’t even know if Friedman is in there for certain.”
“But at least six bad guys are. In a building they’re not supposed to be in.”
“Well, for all we know they leased the space and have every right to be there. And in case you’ve forgotten, we’re not supposed to be here either. Joe and Harry are doing me a favor. And I’m unofficial. You’re the only one with a badge and it has the queen on it. It would take about six months to explain it all to the boys in blue and we’d probably stay in lockup that whole time.”
“Well, the ‘queen’ has revoked my authority but I see your dilemma. So what do we do now?”
“I expect they believe a zig is coming.”
“So we zag?”
“We zag.”
Stone picked up his phone. “Get ready,” he told Knox. “We go in one hour.”
The zag did not exactly go according to plan. In fact it did not come close to going according to plan. The first indication was that neither the front nor rear doors were locked. Finn and Knox collapsed the rear entry and Stone and Chapman the front entrance at two a.m. precisely. The guards stationed there were asleep. Guns
pointed at their heads woke them, but they took their time about it. By the time Stone’s team hit the top floors the four other men were up and stretching.
The second indication of their plan being unsuccessful was that none of the men even had their guns in their hands. The last clue was that the woman on the third floor wasn’t Friedman. She was older by about twenty years and appeared to be drunk. At least they couldn’t wake her. She snored on.