He knew others were coming. He knew there were plans for them, too. An idea occurred to him on how to turn this when Carra called over to them. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Ready for what, he wondered. Ready to scrap this deal and get out now? Or did he and Carmen have time to pursue other options? He didn’t know.
“We’ve been ready,” he said. “You’ve been wasting valuable time.”
She tilted her head at him. “Then let’s finish this.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
11:36 p.m.
When they left Roberta’s, they drove in silence. The safe house was on the Upper West Side, far and away from the orange glow they could see flickering above the East Side of Manhattan. Traffic was thick. They were barely moving.
Maggie was looking out the passenger-side window, obviously reeling from Roberta’s repeated insistence that she was going to kill him.
Did he believe it? No. Could he explain how Roberta had seen the fire and the people burning before it was announced that terrorists had attacked the Upper East Side with explosives? No. But he did know one thing-Maggie Cain was not a killer.
She was someone doing her best under difficult circumstances. She was alone and she was frightened. This was beyond what she’d expected. After her experiences with Wolfhagen, which literally disfigured her, she had difficulty trusting people for good reason.
Marty understood her now. She was the first to see a connection when the Coles died, and then presumably Andrews. Though she couldn’t be sure about it, she hired him to watch Wolfhagen, likely thinking he was somehow behind it. But now that Mark Andrews might be alive, they had to at least scope the safe house and see if it was true.
He called Roz again at the FBI and had yet to hear from her.
He called Hines, but since the explosions had yet to reach him.
He reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand, which she squeezed back. He tried to call Jennifer again but it still was a rapid busy signal.
His mind went through a mental check list. Gloria was safe. His daughters were safe. But right now, he knew he was on the cusp of something that was either going to lead to more answers and a better direction, or possible death if they entered the safe house and it wasn’t Andrews.
His cell phone rang.
Startled, each looked at it in his palm. “It’s Roberta,” Marty said.
He answered it. “Was she on the news?”
She wasn’t. “It was another woman,” Roberta said. “She interviewed a few police officers, but no one by the name of Hines or Patterson.”
“Did you see her anywhere in the background? Maybe she was making the rounds for a larger story. She’s their top reporter. Did you see-”
Roberta interrupted him. “There’s no best way to tell you this.”
A car rushed past them, horn blaring. He wasn’t focusing. He righted the car and slowed for the red light ahead of them. “Tell me what?” he said.
“She’s missing. You haven’t seen the images I’ve seen. That woman reporter went on air and the last thing she said was that the Channel One family also was affected. They mentioned Jennifer. They’re searching for her, but they can’t find her. When the buildings let go, they lost her. They said there’s too much rubble. Too much chaos. I’m so sorry. They’ve put out an alert that if anyone does see her to please contact the station immediately.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
11:36 p.m.
“Get rid of Bobby’s body,” Carra said to Spocatti and Carmen. “Wipe up his blood. He’s been there awhile, so he’s probably stuck to the floor, poor thing, but clean it the best you can. There are towels at the bar. He can’t be there when Spellman and Cain arrive.”
“If they arrive,” Spocatti said.
“Oh, they’ll be here,” Carra said. “Love is a funny thing. Maggie Cain now knows her beloved is alive. They had a lovely chat. She’s flooded with hope. When they come in, take them out, then finish off Andrews.”
She looked down at Mark. “Sorry,” she said. “But you’ve seen too much. And do you really want to be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of your life?”
He didn’t answer.
“I didn’t think so.” She looked at Spocatti. “Then we do what we discussed earlier-call the police and get out of here. Each of you has your checks. You’ll never have to see us again. Just cash them in and move on.” She bowed her head to them. “And, thank you. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“We mean that,” Ira said.
“Our pleasure.” He looked at Carmen. “Let’s get Bobby. We’re losing time.”
“Why are you doing this, Carra?”
That stopped Spocatti. It was Wolfhagen who posed the question, and now Carra was coming over to him to answer it.
“I’ll keep this brief,” she said. “When we were married, you never once told me you traded inside information. You lied to me, you kept it all from me, and yet when it blew up in your face, it also blew up in mine. Do you have any idea what my life has been like for the past five years? It’s taken years to rebuild my name, and I’m only halfway there. As long as you’re alive, they still see you in me. The stink won’t go away until you go away. So, guess what? You go away tonight.”
“Right now, I’m a guest at your home,” he said. “The media has been chronicling it. People saw me at your party. How are you going to explain that?”
She reached out the tip of her whip and ran it along the curves of his face. “I’m going to tell them the truth. We had an argument over the home in La Jolla, which is mine and which I’ve decided to sell. If they want to-and they will-they’ll document your phone call to me just as they’ll document that soon after it, you booked an immediate flight to New York City.
“Because you live there, you threatened me not to sell. You flew here to tell me to my face that you weren’t moving. You told me that if I sold, you’d hire someone to set fire to the house, which belonged to my father. I took you in as a guest because it was better to keep you close while I figured something out.”
She paused. “It’s only been a day, Max. And guess what? I have figured something out. In the meantime, how could I have known that you had an ulterior motive to be here in New York? How could I known everything you were doing on the side? All these deaths captured on film.” She shook her head at him. “You’re not a very good person. The world knew that once. They’ll be reminded of it again.”
She looked at Spocatti. “Bobby,” she said. “Then the rest. Move.”
He turned to Carmen-communication in a glance. He began to step past Wolfhagen and Carra. “You said there were towels at the bar?”
“They’re at the far end. There should be enough, but Bobby was big, so who knows?”
“Right,” he said, and as he passed her, he swung violently around, dipped his hand into his holster and removed his gun. Carra sensed the rush of motion and turned just as the butt of Spocatti’s revolver came straight at the side of her head. She ducked and he missed. Missed! She stumbled back and he swung again, but not before her whip whirled around and struck him hard across his face.
Stunned by the blow, he shook it off while she ran across the room. He charged after her. She was quick, but not quick enough-those boots she wore were a bitch and they didn’t give her the traction she needed. As she ran past Wolfhagen and toward the bar, where he knew there’d be a staircase, he saw Carmen swing at Wolfhagen’s head. He collapsed on the floor just as Ira Lasker started for the door.
“Door!” Spocatti called.
Carra was running faster now. She skidded as she rounded the bar. He heard a thump behind him and knew it was Lasker. He heard footsteps running his way and knew it was Carmen. And then, suddenly, Carra turned to face him.
She swung the whip at him again, but this time he was prepared for it and caught it with his free hand. He yanked on it and pulled her close into to him. He could feel her breath on his face. He could see wild fear and rage in her eyes.