The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) (25 page)

She was a great combination, tough and feminine, long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail and rich brown eyes. Her name was Eastern European, Croatian maybe, but her accent told him she was the product of an upbringing in the States. Not
New York
or
New Jersey
. She didn’t have the twang. He guessed somewhere else, like
Chicago
or Philly. She had the street-smarts of a city girl and the strength and resolve of her predecessors, folks who had most likely packed their meagre belongings and headed to the
United States
, for a new life sometime in the last century after World War
II
. He imagined she’d broken a few hearts in her time but figured she also took precisely zero shit from other guys at the Bureau who wanted to test her out. From here, he could smell her perfume and could see her tanned legs protruding from the black skirt of her work-suit. She was a scorcher, that was for sure. God had been in a very good mood when he made this woman.

As they moved through the mid-60 streets towards 59
th
, Archer’s thoughts turned from Katic to Gerrard. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat and tried calling him yet again, but it rang straight through and went to voicemail.

This wasn’t good.

Everything Katic had told him could conceivably make sense, but it was so unlikely Gerry was the fall guy that Archer just couldn’t believe it. Gerry was a good man. He’d been caring and thoughtful to Archer the boy and had extended the same courtesy to him as a man, and had always been a good friend to James Archer. There were a number of reasons why he could not be picking up his phone, and not all of them were bad. If he was in D.C, stuck in meetings and debriefings, he wouldn’t have a chance to answer any calls. He’d be back tomorrow, and Archer figured he’d just have to make it through the night till he returned. Gerry would have an explanation and a solution for all this. It wasn’t his fault his bosses pulled him from the city tonight.

But he wasn’t picking up his phone.

And that
didn't sit
right.

This past week, Gerry had always answered his phone, usually by the third ring. Archer’s father had been duped by someone, and shot in the back of the head. Archer sent up a silent prayer that Gerry hadn’t suffered the same fate, and that someone wouldn’t suddenly find his body in a parking lot missing a head. Good men didn’t deserve to die like that. Especially not men like James Archer and Todd Gerrard.

They turned right and started heading along 59
th
towards
Columbus Circle
, the Park sliding past Katic’s window on the right. To the left were a series of absurdly expensive-looking buildings and hotels that ran all the way along the street. 59
th
was where the thoroughfare of
M
idtown o
ffices ended and the wealth of U
ptown Manhattan started. Archer didn’t want to think how much dinner and a night in a hotel in one of the places up here would cost. Probably more
than a month’s salary for him.

To the right, the Park looked surprisingly foreboding. During the day, nothing was more pleasant than a stroll inside, but at night it looked like a place that no one would want to enter. He’d heard stories from the past when armed gangs would wait in the shadows to mug pedestrians, and there had been a fair amount of murders in there back when the city was a far rougher place to live. Archer looked at the Park move past the window, all shadows and darkness. He was going to be on the run all night, and if it came down to it, he figured he
could always hide out in there.

But he’d make sure to get his Sig back from Katic first.

The car arrived at
Columbus Circle
and held at the red light. After a few moments, it flicked green and they moved around the circular roundabout from the left. Archer watched the water splash in the fountain below the marble statue of Christopher Columbus as they slid around him and headed up Broadway. They were seven blocks away, and the driver headed up Broadway towards the Upper West Side, past the
Lincoln
Center
to the left, past the
Julliard
School
.

‘Drop us off on 70
th
,’ Archer told the driver. Katic turned to him as Archer saw the driver’s head nod.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘The cinema is on 67
th
.’

‘We’ll come in from the top. I want to see what we’re walking into.’

‘You don’t trust Siletti?’

He shook his head.

‘Tonight, I don’t trust anyone.’

They stopped on the corner of 70
th
and Broadway as requested and Katic paid the fare. The two of them stepped out, shutting the doors and the taxi sped off uptown, leaving them there alone.

The streets were relatively busy, not heaving, but there were quite a few pedestrians, headed to bars and the cinema or just outside enjoying the warm night air. Archer stepped up onto the sidewalk beside Katic and didn’t move. He stared down the street ahead, looking for anything unusual. It didn’t matter if Siletti was clean or dirty, he could
still
have called for back-up. Up ahead, he saw a big digital clock in red letters, mounted on a CNN building on the south side of
Columbus Circle
.

10:15 pm.

‘What
do you think?’ he asked Katic.

She nodded.

‘Let’s go.’

They walked down slowly, side-by-side, checking for anything unusual. Any vans or people
sitting
in cars.
Anyone nearby wearing an earpiece. Any sign of a trap or foul play.

‘Recognise any vehicles?’ Archer asked her.

She sh
ook her head and turned to him.

‘Relax, Archer. We can trust Siletti. He’s one of the good guys.’

‘Even if he is, he might have called for back-up.’

‘That’s OK. We’ll go downtown and I can explain what the hell is going on.’

They crossed the street, twe
nty yards from the Loews cinema,
ahead to their left. Archer looked up and saw the names and show-times of different movies scrolling across a digital black background in red lettering. All the summer blockbusters, still on show, the studios eager to squeeze every cent they could from the paying public before they pulled the movie reels from the cinemas and started packaging them into DVDs. The first door to the large dark foyer of the cinema appeared on their left. Archer
quickly
checked
both ways up and down
the street, then opened the door and letting Katic precede him, followed her inside.

Inside, it was dark and busy. There were people all over the place. A long queue had formed in front of the ticket desks, people waiting in line to purchase stubs for whatever movie they were seeing, whilst others were walking to the escalators near the two newcomers and stepping onto the metal steps, making their way upstairs and towards the concession stands and screens. The place felt like a disco or one of those laser tag places Archer had gone to as a kid, dark with occasional glowing lights piercing the gloom. Katic stepped into the north-west corner, Archer beside her. They were in a good spot, an exit either side of them, inconspicuous, not attracting any attention but with a good view of the place. Nevertheless Archer still felt on edge and uneasy. All of a sudden he was starting to regret handing his pistol to Katic.

He guessed who Siletti was the moment he saw him. He was a
slim,
wiry guy, tall, six two or three maybe. He was dressed in a suit that was a bit too big for him, with shirt and tie, and had a thin moustache over his upper lip and freshly slicked-back dark hair. Katic mentioned her team had been given the night off, so his attire seemed unusual, but maybe he had just dressed up before he left his place, anticipating a long night at
Federal
Plaza
.

Archer’s suspicions that he was looking at an FBI agent were confirmed when he saw the man clock Katic across the room. He stepped through the line of people queuing for tickets, and made his way swiftly towards them. Concern was written all over his face. He glanced over at Archer in the darkness, and Archer saw his right hand was by his hip, close to a pistol that would be surely tucked under the suit jacket. Archer eased himself back a hair. If Siletti pulled it, Archer could probably grab the Sig from the back of Katic’s waistband before she reacted.

‘Th
ere you are,’ he said to Katic.

He glanced at Archer, hostile.

‘He’s on our side,’ Katic said, reading the look in his eyes. ‘Like I told you, he’s been working with Gerrard.’

‘No way,’ Siletti said, his hand still by his hip.

‘Yes way. Take your hand away from there. You pull your gun, I’ll pull mine and we’ll be stuck here wondering what to do next.’

Siletti star
ed at Archer for a long moment.

Archer stared straight back.

Eventually, Siletti turned his a
ttention to Katic.

‘You’re in deep shit, Mina. Why the hell did you hitch a ride and not just take him in? And where the hell is the money?’

‘In a safe place. Look, I had to intervene. I think someone on our team has flipped.’

‘What?’

‘Someone’s flipped.’

He stepped closer to the corner, lowering his voice. Archer looked past him, seeing if anyone was watching, making doubly sure the guy had come alone.

‘Who?’ Siletti asked.

‘I don’t know. But think about it. Surely you’ve got your suspicions. Farrell and his crew have been one step ahead of us every time.’

‘Yeah, I know. But to say one of us is working with them? That’s pretty extreme.’ Siletti said.

‘Just hear me out. Look, I promise you I’m legit. And I can trust you, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘So it’s either O’Hara, Lock, Parker. Or Gerrard.’

‘Gerrard. Are you nuts?’ Siletti said, still not convinced. ‘He’s head of the Task Force. He’s an SSA. Guys like that don’t turn on their own. It’s unheard of.’

‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’

‘Thursday. Why?’

‘We’ve been trying to call him for over a day now but we can’t get through. Whoever the leak is might have got to him first.’

Siletti shook his head.

‘You’re serious about all this?’

‘As a heart attack.’

He cursed and ran his hand back over his slick hair.
Then he looked over at Archer.

‘Speaking of deep shit, I should take you in right now. You’re on the casebook of every cop and
Federal
agent in the city. I could land a promotion by bringing in your ass.’

‘Go ahead and try.’

‘He’s good,’ said Katic, interjecting as the two men stared at each other again. ‘I can vouch for him.’

Siletti kept looking at Arc
her, then turned back to Katic.

‘OK. So how much was in the car?’ he asked.

‘Close to a mil,’ Archer said.

In the darkness, Archer saw Siletti’s eyes w
iden.

‘Jesus Christ. So where is it? That’s stolen money. It needs to be returned straight away,’ he said. ‘Right now, you two count as thieves. Badge or not, Mina, you’ve still got almost a million stolen dollars in your possession. That’s as illegal as you can get.’

She
nodded and looked at his suit.

‘Were you at the Plaza?’

He nodded.

‘So do you know what happe
ned with Farrell and his crew?’

He nodded again. ‘The cops took them at the Garden. The operation’s over.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go get the money, head downtown and sort this all out.’

Katic looked at A
rcher for approval, encouraged.

‘C’mon, my car’s a couple blocks away,’ Siletti said.

They headed outside, pushing open the doors. Katic looked to Archer, reassured, but noticed he didn’t seem as upbeat. The trio headed up the street. Siletti drove a small Mercedes, and it was parked on the kerb, an FBI badge on the dashboard. He pulled a set of keys and the lights flashed as it clicked open.

‘Let’s go get the cash first,’ he said. ‘We need to get it in safe hands as soon as pos
sible. Where did you stash it?’

Archer went to reply, but his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the display.
Private Number.

Oh shit. This could be Gerry.

He clicked
Answer
quickly, hopeful
.

‘Hello?’

‘I’m going to kill you, yo
u piece of shit,’
a voice said.

It wasn’t Gerry.