“Damn. Good work, Gibson.”
“Thanks. I actually patted myself on the back with that one.”
They headed down the stairs.
On reaching the wine cellar, Gibson hurried over to a far corner where a wooden wall with wine bottle shelving attached was situated.
“Shine your light right there,” she instructed Beckett as she pointed at the lower right-hand corner of the wall.
He did so and she set her light down, and gripped at a corner of the wood. First she pushed inward and there was an audible click. Then she pulled and the entire section of wall rotated out on hinges.
“Voilà.” She picked up her light and shone it inside the small, dank room.
At the rear, under some old blankets, was a box. She opened it while Beckett kept his light pointed at it. Inside was a key.
Gibson held it in her hand and looked around. “Okay. What do you open?” Then Gibson started probing and prying in the middle of the rear wall of the room. “Shine your light,” she said urgently.
He did so and she pulled away a bulge of bubbled paint, revealing a keyhole.
“Damn, how’d you see that?” asked Beckett.
“Easy, the rest of the wall is a slightly different shade of blue, and they couldn’t completely cover the bulge of the lock underneath.”
She inserted the key and turned it. The wall that had now become a door swung open. Revealed was an inner room that contained five large trunks. She tried the same key in each trunk’s lock, until, with the fourth one, the lock turned.
She slowly opened the trunk, and Beckett illuminated the contents with his light.
“Holy shit!” he said.
It was full of cash.
She knelt down and examined the money. “These are all hundred-dollar bills,” she said.
She did a quick calculation. “If all of these trunks have this same amount of cash in them, we’re looking at probably a couple hundred million bucks.”
She dusted off her hands and pulled out her phone. “I’ll take pictures, and then I’m going to try Sullivan again and tell him what we found. This is going to hit the national press for sure.”
“No, it won’t,” said Beckett.
When Gibson glanced up, his gun was pointed at her.
Chapter 80
“What the hell are you doing, Earl?”
“Getting what’s rightfully mine.”
“This is Langhorne’s mob money.”
“Nothing personal, but this is my money and I’ve waited a long time for it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I helped Harry clear out of WITSEC. We were supposed to meet up and he was going to give me my share, but that asshole never showed. Been looking for him for over twenty years. And I finally found him right here in this house.”
“Wait a minute — you killed Langhorne?”
“Ran into him when he was coming out of that little hidey-hole of his in the library. I was fair. I gave him a choice. Tell me and he dies with no pain. Don’t tell me and he dies awful. He chose the poison.”
“And when Sullivan approached you?”
“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to piggyback on your efforts. Found out you were really good at finding hidden money.” He motioned at the trunks with his light. “And I have to say you lived up to your rep.”
“You can’t get away with this. Sullivan is on his way.”
“Jesus, get with the program. I never called him.”
“My mother knows you and I left together.”
“Which means I have a little unfinished business back at your house. Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. And I won’t touch the kiddies. And now, we have to take care of you.”
“Drop it, Beckett,” the voice called out.
Beckett whirled to see Wilson Sullivan and two uniformed officers, guns drawn, emerge from the darkness.
Beckett cursed under his breath and put his gun down. He eyed Gibson. “You set me up, you bitch.”
Francine appeared next to Sullivan. “Hey, Earl, remember me? Francine?”
Beckett’s eyes took her in. “Long time no see.”
He smiled. And Gibson did not like that smile.
Francine stepped up to Beckett and kneed him in the crotch.
“Hope the reunion was memorable,” she said as the man dropped to his knees, moaning.
The next moment a series of gunshots were fired from the open doorway. Two slugs hit one of the uniformed officers, and he collapsed to the floor. Another round hit Sullivan in the shoulder and he went down, too. The other officer fired back at the doorway.
Gibson pulled her pistol from her ankle holster, but Beckett had already recovered. He grabbed Francine and his gun, and pulled her out of the wine cellar. Gibson heard a click.
She raced to the door and found that it was locked. “Francine!”
Gibson looked around, and saw that the cop who’d been shot was dead. His colleague was bending over Sullivan, who was panting heavily and holding his arm.
She ran over to him. “How bad?”
“In and out, but it’s bleeding like a bitch. Who fired those shots?”
“Beckett obviously didn’t come alone.”
Gibson said to the officer, “Tourniquet his arm, and call an ambulance and more backup.”
She ran over to the door, and fired two shots into the lock, then kicked at the door and it popped free.
She did a turkey peek to see if they were waiting to gun down anyone who came out of the cellar. With the coast clear, Gibson ran after them.
She was now back in Jersey City cop mode, running down another suspect.
Only this one had a hostage.
Chapter 81
Gibson could hear the sounds of footsteps pounding away in front of her, though she didn’t know how close; they had a decent head start.
She silently berated herself for allowing this to happen. She knew it was likely that two people had written the phrase on the wall in the secret room. At first, she thought it might have been Francine and her brother. Next, it might have been Rochelle and Doug. But when that was disproved and she had figured Beckett as the killer of Harry Langhorne, she should have remembered the second hand that had contributed to the message. That oversight had cost one cop his life and Sullivan a gunshot wound.
And maybe Francine her life.
But who was the other person?
She reached the main floor and peered around a corner. She no longer heard the sounds of footsteps.
“Look out, Mickey!” screamed Francine.
Gibson ducked down. Two shots slammed into the wall where Gibson’s head had been moments before.
She heard a thud and Francine screamed in pain.
Gibson couldn’t fire back because she might hit the woman.
When she heard them run off again, Gibson followed. She broke into a sprint when she heard one of the huge front doors slam against the wall.
The storm was still raging outside. She had no idea how long it would take for the police or an ambulance to get here. But if Beckett got away with Francine? Gibson knew they would find only her body, if they even managed that.
She stepped off the front steps when she saw the headlights of Beckett’s truck pop on as the engine fired up. Next to it was another vehicle. That must be the ride for whoever was working with Beckett.
Gibson ran forward, knelt down, took careful aim, and shot out the two front tires, and then popped two rounds into the radiator.
The side doors flew open. Beckett appeared on the driver’s side of the truck and another man on the passenger’s side. In front of the other man was Francine, with a pistol against her head.
Beckett screamed, “You’re gonna get her and you killed.”