The only way Tasker could have learned about the list of names Alex had given the police was from a cop. The Sun obviously had a source inside the Central Office, but Alex knew he’d never be able to sell that idea. Detweiler simply wouldn’t believe it. If it came down to a choice between Alex being a rat or one of his own, Detweiler would blame Alex every time.
Taking a deep breath, Alex savored what might be his last moments of freedom for the foreseeable future. He wouldn’t put it past Detweiler to lock him up just out of spite.
He needed a plan.
The man’s married to the Captain’s favorite niece, Alex thought. And the Captain is a political appointee. He’s concerned with his image. Two-to-One Detweiler’s cut from the same cloth.
Alex needed to appeal to the Lieutenant’s ego.
It wasn’t a great plan, but it wasn’t nothing. Alex crossed the street and entered the lobby. The crowd of reporters seemed to have lessened from the other day, but there were still a half dozen or so sitting in the waiting area.
Alex caught sight of the young reporter with the brown suit that had accosted him the other day. Not wishing a repeat performance, he hurried across to the elevators.
When he reached the fifth floor, Alex found a uniformed officer leaning against the wall just outside the door.
“You Lockerby?” he asked in a bored voice.
Alex felt a twinge of fear. He didn’t think Detweiler was dumb enough to throw him in a holding cell without hearing him out first. After all, Alex had given him good information before. That said, the Lieutenant might want to let Alex cool his heels for a few hours just out of spite.
“That’s me,” Alex said, pasting a friendly smile on his face.
“Detweiler said to bring you upstairs,” he said, nodding for Alex to get back on the elevator.
That took Alex by surprise. The Detectives for Manhattan all worked out of the fifth floor. Above them were several floors of clerks, functionaries, interview rooms, and, at the top, the higher ups. Captain Rooney had an office there, as did the Chief of Police, though the Chief spent most of his time in a satellite office in city hall.
It wasn’t likely that Detweiler wanted Alex in an interrogation room; he could grill Alex just fine in his own office. In fact, that would be better for him as his detectives would get to see him dressing down a meddlesome P.I. Going upstairs could only mean one thing — the Captain wanted in on whatever Detweiler had in mind.
Alex felt his hands shaking, but didn’t dare take a swig out of his flask. The cop escorting him would think it was a sign of weakness and tell Detweiler. Alex didn’t want to give the Lieutenant anything he might be able use against him.
The elevator dinged and Alex and the cop got off on the tenth floor. The Captain’s Office was down the hallway to the right; Alex had been there before the previous year. That time the Captain wanted to hang the murder of a customs inspector on him.
Before Alex had time to wonder what Rooney would accuse him of this time, the cop escorting Alex turned left.
“Where are we going?” Alex asked, falling into step beside him.
“Keep walking,” the cop said in a bored voice.
Alex didn’t have to wonder long. At the end of the hallway they turned again, and the cop opened an ornate door of dark wood with a brass plaque in its exact center. The name Arnold Montgomery was engraved on the plaque.
Arnold Montgomery was the Chief of Police for New York City.
Alex wondered about the plaque. Most men would have had their title engraved on it along with their names. Chief Montgomery was either so arrogant that he simply expected everyone to know that he was chief, or so humble that such accolades didn’t matter.
As he stepped inside the office Alex wondered which.
A humble man could be appealed-to, mistakes would be seen as human. An arrogant man would have to be told he was right, that he was smart, that mistakes were the fault of lesser, unimportant people.
Alex could work it either way.
Chief Montgomery’s office was surprisingly sparse. His desk was ornate, but clear of debris: only a phone and a note pad occupied it. A couch sat against the side wall with three comfortable chairs facing the desk. A sideboard filled with various awards and bric-a-brac sat against the back wall, and an enormous window behind the desk looked out toward Empire Tower.
There were five people in the room.
A slender man with black hair that was going gray at the temples and a pencil mustache sat behind the desk. He wore a dress blue police uniform with a gold shield and a white braid encircling his right arm. The buttons on his coat were polished brass and his gun belt had a leather strap that ran up and over his left shoulder. The leather gleamed with polish.
This could only be Montgomery, though Alex couldn’t tell if his immaculate appearance was due to respect for the job or if it was, itself, a demand for respect.
Detweiler and Rooney stood in front of the desk. It had been a while since Alex had seen the Captain, but he hadn’t changed appreciably. He reminded Alex of a puppy because the man’s hands and feet seemed disproportionally large for his body, only to be outdone by his nose. Due to his pale complexion and red hair, the nose always looked a bit red, as if Rooney were a hard drinker.
Alex didn’t know the other two people, though he recognized the man immediately. His name was Claude Banes. He was slender and big shouldered, with a handsome face, brown hair, and a cleft in his pointed chin. Alex was surprised a man that ruggedly handsome hadn’t already gone off to Hollywood, but he suspected being Mayor of the greatest city in the world had other charms.
The woman next to Mayor Banes was a study in contrast to her husband, as she could only be his wife. She stood with her shoulders slumped, looking down, like a schoolgirl anticipating a scolding. Alex knew from the list of potential ghost victims that her name was Nancy. She was pretty in a small-town girl kind of way, with delicate features, blue eyes and dark hair. She wore a dress with short sleeves and her bare arms came down in a V before her where she kneaded her hands together nervously.
“Thank you, Officer Thomas,” Chief Montgomery said, dismissing the officer. Once he left and the door was shut, Rooney looked at the Mayor.
So, Banes is running this meeting.
“I’d like to know just what you think you are doing, Mr. Lockerby,” Banes said angrily. “You can’t drag my wife’s name through the mud and expect to get away with it.” He was shouting now, and his wife cringed with every syllable. Alex couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or afraid. “I’ll have your license—”
Montgomery stood up and the Mayor seemed to recover his temper.
“The last time I heard your name, Lockerby,” Montgomery said, stepping out from behind his desk to take over this interrogation. “Captain Rooney here was telling me how it was your fault that this department staked out the customs warehouse over at the Aerodrome for no good reason. Now I hear you’re giving highly sensitive information to a tabloid reporter,” he walked around Alex as he spoke, sizing him up. “As you heard, the Mayor is quite upset, to say nothing of Mrs. Banes.”
He stopped directly in front of Alex and looked him right in the eyes. Alex noticed that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black. His face was a mask, halfway between amusement and condescension. Alex was very glad he didn’t have to play poker with the man.