Lethal Affairs (11 page)

Vasquez took a sip of his Scotch as Hayley waited impatiently for him to continue. “According to Frankie, a guy Frankie recognized as an EOO operative took out Castellano.”
“He actually knew the assassin?”
“He recognized the style and methods, not the guy himself. Frankie said he could tell these things—they didn’t call him the Fox for nothing. Claimed he knew the shit was going to hit the fan with his boss because some powerful guys owed him money. Men with influence. All with one thing in common. Gambling.” He took another drag off his cigarette. “And guys like that, when they’re scared, either run or come after you before you come after them.”
“Your short list of suspects?” Hayley asked.
“You’re a smart girl,” he acknowledged.
“What else did he tell you about the Organization?”
“Said it was high security and remote. Mind boggling, the kind of training there. Turns out highly disciplined and resourceful ops, who do the kind of gigs the government can’t, along with private jobs, too. The FBI uses ’em, and CIA.” Ashes from his cigarette fell onto the couch but he didn’t notice. “Said the organization’s motto was Detect, Identify, Resolve.”
“Did he say where it was?”
Vasquez took another drag off his cigarette, then stubbed it out in an already overflowing ashtray. “No. He was saving that, he said. His trump card, in case anything went wrong with the deal. But three weeks after I interviewed him, he was found dead in his cell. They said it was rat poison. I think the EOO discovered he was talking and got to him.”
His voice took on that bitter tone again. “After Frankie died I started to ask around. Follow up on some of the names he’d given me. It didn’t take long before my bosses took me off the case, said we didn’t have enough evidence. I thought we had enough to go on, so I kept investigating on my own. They called me in a couple weeks later, asked me to resign. When I asked what for, they told me it was better to resign than get fired, because it would look bad on my record to get canned for being drunk and insubordinate. I knew then somebody big pulled the plug, and they were trying to cover up. I said this to my chief, asked him if someone had gotten to him—was he on the take—and he fired me.”
“Who’s on this short list, Manny?” Hayley pressed.
“For that, you owe me your tape,” he said. “I’ll give you my list and the tape of my interview with Frankie. There’s a lot more on there about the EOO I think you’ll be interested in.”
“Okay, you got a deal.”
“Late.” He got up and stretched. “Want to sleep here tonight? You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch.”
She tried to mask her horror at the prospect. “Thanks, Manny, but I have to head home. Got to work in the morning. How about I come back tomorrow night and we trade what we have?”
“Works for me. I’ll spend the day trying to match your note against letters I have, so I can brief you then about whatever I find.”
“That’d be great.”
“Same time?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Let’s meet at the Three Sisters again, so I can make sure we’re not followed back here.” He fumbled in his pocket for his keys. “I’ll drive you back to your car.”
“Not necessary.” She reached for her cell phone. “Better I call a cab.”
“Whatever.”
When the taxi arrived, Vasquez unlocked his fortress and let her out.
Hayley paused outside the door. “Manny, do you think I’m in danger?”
“Just be careful,” he replied. “Watch your back.”
She waited until she was in her Mustang and on the highway headed home before she dug her cell phone out and called Luka. “Hi, it’s Hayley. Did I wake you?” The digital clock read eleven fifteen.
“Hardly. I’m a night owl, too. What’s up?”
“This sucks but I’m going to have to reschedule our date,” she said. “Looks like I’ll be tied up tomorrow. Can we push our dinner back a day? Same time?”
“Of course. No problem.”
“Oh, wonderful.
You’re
wonderful for understanding. I am so much looking forward to seeing you again.” She bit back the curse she wanted to holler at the tractor-trailer that cut her off, forcing her to brake suddenly.
“Me, too,” came the response. “See you Thursday then?”
“Can’t wait,” she said. “’Night, Luka. Sweet dreams.”
“Sure bet, since I’ll be thinking of you.”
Hayley smiled. She was really sorry to have to postpone seeing Luka. “Like I said…smooth talker. I’m finding it hard to resist you, you know.”
“Good, because it’s mutual. ’Night, Hayley.”

Domino closed the cell phone, ending the call.
“That was close,” Reno said. “She almost hit that truck.” “Too close,” she agreed, wondering if Hayley’s preoccupation with

who she was talking to had diverted her attention. They were speeding down the freeway a few cars behind the Mustang. Though they’d lost Hayley during Vasquez’s evasive maneuvers out of the bar, Domino had kept her talking on her cell phone just long enough for them to use GPS triangulation to trace her back to the ex-cop’s apartment, where they’d picked her up again.

“Nothing on the guy from the bar yet,” Reno relayed. He had the computer on his lap. “Car’s a rental, nothing from the rental company either. And no match on his picture, but it’s only been a couple of hours.”

“Call Pierce and put him on speakerphone,” she said. “Strike’s headed home,” Reno relayed once their boss answered. “Don’t have much on their meeting, because it adjourned to his place. But we had company in the bar. Someone else is interested in her. Trying to trace him now, so far unsuccessfully.”
“Not an amateur, in other words,” Pierce replied.
“No,” Domino cut in. “But he didn’t know in advance where he’d end up—he stuck out too much. And he lost her when they moved from the bar.”
“Do we have to worry about Strike’s new contact?” Pierce asked.
“Undetermined,” she replied. “She broke our date for tomorrow to work. Could be related to their discussion.”
“Okay,” Pierce finally said. “Keep me posted if anything changes.”

Senator Terrence Burrows had barely turned in for the evening when his ringing cell phone broke the quiet. His wife Diana groaned and shifted restlessly on her side of their king-sized bed.

“Sorry, honey.” He plucked the phone from the bedside table and flipped it open to silence the ringing but, seeing who it was, waited until he was down the hallway before he spoke. “Yes?”

“She went to Brooklyn tonight to meet an ex-cop,” Jack informed him. “A detective named Manuel Vasquez—he left the force about three years ago. Still checking him out. They talked for a while in a bar, then left. Vasquez caught on they were being followed and lost my guy.”

Terrence detoured to his den and poured himself a whiskey as he digested the information. Jack was patient with the long silence on the line.

“My man thought someone else may have been following them, in a van, but couldn’t be sure.”
“Okay, Jack. I’ll give you a call back when I determine how to proceed.”
Next he dialed an assistant chief in the New York Police Department whose private home number was on speed dial. “Hey, Calvin. It’s Terrence. Sorry to call so late.”
“Hey, man. What’s up? Haven’t seen you around in ages.”
“No time for much fun these days,” he replied. “Don’t you ever pick up a newspaper or turn on the television?”
He heard laughter. “Yeah, seems like I read somewhere you got some big plans for next year.”
“Listen, Cal. I’m calling about that matter I had you take care of for me. You know the one I mean.”
“Hang on a minute.” Terrence heard the chief tell his wife Florence not to wait up. Then he came back on the line. “Okay, Terrence. Go on.”
“Any chance at all your guy took anything with him when he left? Files, copies of interviews, things of that sort?”
“Don’t think so. But I can check. Need it tonight?”
“Yeah, Cal. It’s important.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you when I know something.”
It took forty minutes, and the news wasn’t good. Several pieces of evidence related to the Angelo Castellano murder investigation were missing, including witness-interview audiotapes and some of the casefile paperwork.
Terrence admitted to himself he’d made an error in judgment using Cal to eliminate Vasquez as a threat. Jack would make certain the ex-cop was silent for good.
One more phone call and then he could go back to bed.