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I propped myself up in bed and tried to read Prayers for Rain by Dennis Lehane. I was on a string of books that I'd enjoyed lately: The Pilot's Wife, The Pied Piper, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, the Lehane.
I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to take down the five New York detectives. I wanted to be home with the kids, and I wanted little Alex to be part of our family. That was the one thing that had kept me going strong lately.
Finally, I started to think about Betsey Cavalierre. I had been trying not to, but now I remembered our 'date' in Hartford. I liked her it was as simple as that. I wanted to see her again and I hoped she wanted to see me.
The phone in my room rang around eleven o'clock. It was Betsey. She sounded tired and frustrated and decidedly non-peppy for her.
'I'm just finishing up here at Police Plaza. I hope. Believe it or not, we're set to take them down tomorrow. You definitely wouldn't believe the bullshit that's gone on today. Lots of talk about the detectives' civil rights. Plus the effect on morale inside the NYPD. Making the arrest "the right way." Nobody's willing to say that these are five very bad actors. They're probably killers. Take their sorry asses down."
"They're five very bad actors. Take their sorry asses down," I said to her.
I heard her laugh and I could picture her smile. "That's what we're doing, Alex. Bright and early tomorrow morning. We're taking them down. Maybe we'll get the Mastermind too. I have to be here at least another hour. I'll see you in the morning. Early."
Chapter Eighty-Five
Four o'clock comes very early in the morning. That was the hour we were scheduled to hit the homes of the five detectives. Everything was set. The politicking was done; at least I hoped it was over.
Three-thirty comes even earlier and that was when we met somewhere in Nassau County out on Long Island. I didn't know much about the area, but it was upscale and pretty, a far cry from Fifth Street and Southeast. Someone on the team said the neighborhood was unusual because a lot of cops and also Mafia people lived there in apparent harmony.
This was a federal case and Betsey Cavalierre was officially in charge of the arrests. It illustrated the regard in which she was held back in Washington, if not in New York.
"I'm happy to see that everybody is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning? Night? Whatever time zone we're in?" She offered up a joke and got a few smiles from the troops. There were about forty of us, a mix of police and FBI, but the Bureau was definitely in charge of the morning's raids. She divided us into teams, and I was in her group.
Everybody was ready, and incredibly pumped-up. We drove to a split-level house on High Street in Massapequa. No one seemed to be up in the suburban neighborhood. A dog started barking in one of the yards nearby. Dew glistened on every manicured lawn. Life seemed good out here where Detective Brian Macdougall lived with his battered wife and bitterly angry daughter.
Betsey spoke into her Handie-Talkie. She seemed extremely cool under fire. "Radio check. Then, "Team A, through the front door. Team B, kitchen. Team C, sun porch. Team D is backup … Now. Go! Take him down!"
The agents and police detectives swarmed toward the house on her signal. Betsey and I got to watch them quickly move in. We were Team D, the backup.
Team A was inside the house fast and cleanly.
Then so was Team B. We couldn't see the third team from where we were parked. They went in the back.
There was shouting inside. Then we heard a loud pop. Percussive, definitely a gunshot.
"Oh, shit." Betsey looked over at me. "Macdougall was waiting for us. How the hell did that happen?"
There were several more gunshots. Someone yelled. A woman began to scream and curse. Was it Veronica Macdougall's mother?
Betsey and I jumped out of the car and moved quickly toward the Macdougall house. We still didn't go inside. I was thinking that four other houses in Brooklyn were being hit right now. I hoped there wasn't more trouble like this.
Talk to me," Betsey said into her Handie-Talkie. "What's happening in there? Mike? What the hell is wrong?"
"Rice is down. I'm outside the master bedroom on the second floor. Macdougall and his wife are inside."
"How is Rice?" she asked, very concerned.
"Chest wound. He's conscious. Wound is sucking bad, though. Get an ambulance here now! Macdougall shot him."
Suddenly a window on the second floor opened. I saw a figure come out of the window and run in a low crouch across the attached garage roof.
Betsey and I sprinted toward the man. I remembered that she'd been a good lacrosse player at Georgetown. She could still move.
"He's outside! Macdougall's up on the roof over the garage," she reported to the others.
"I got him," I told her. He was angling toward where the garage roof intersected with a row of feathery-looking fir trees. I couldn't see what was beyond the trees, but I figured it had to be another yard, another house.
"MacDougall!” I yelled at the top of my voice. "Stop! Police! Stop or I'll shoot!"
He didn't look back, didn't stop, and didn't hesitate. Macdougall jumped down into the trees.
Chapter Eighty-Si
XI ran with my head down, right through a barrier of thick bushes that scraped and cut my arms until there was blood. Brian Macdougall hadn't gotten very far into the yard next door.
I raced for a dozen steps after him, and then I tackled him. I aimed my right shoulder at the back of his knees. I wanted to hurt Macdougall if I possibly could.
He went down hard but he was as loaded up with adrenaline as I was. He rolled and twisted out of my arms. He popped up fast and so did I," You should have stayed down," I told him," You're not supposed to make mistakes. Getting up was a mistake."
I hit Macdougall with a hard, straight overhand right. It felt very good. His head snapped back about six inches.
I bobbed a little. Macdougall threw a wild hook that missed me completely. I hit him again. His knees buckled but he didn't go down. He was a tough street cop.
"I'm impressed,” I told him, taunted him. "You still should have stayed down, though."
"Alex!" I heard Betsey yell as she entered the yard.