Smoke and mirrors.
Misdirection and mayhem.
Remember Clementine.
Remember Tombstone.
Death to the policeman who thinks he’s smarter than we are.
A hundred yards or so down the road, two men stepped out of the forest, their powerful flashlights intersecting upon Patty’s face. Blinded, she skidded to a stop, grabbed her shield from the passenger seat, and held it up in front of the lights. At the same time, she smoothly opened her window, hoping that neither of the men thought she was reaching for a weapon. They split up and headed for her car from both sides, their lights still fixed on her face.
“Police,” the man to her left whispered harshly, holding a semiautomatic weapon, possible some sort of MP5, where she could see it. “Both hands, let me see ’em.”
Patty lifted her hands palms out, dangling the leather case with her shield and ID from between her thumb and index finger.
“Detective Patty Moriarity, State Police,” she said urgently. “I’ve got to get in there. I have reason to believe this is a trap, and the officer in charge is in danger. Maybe others, too.”
The policeman, dressed in black with a black watch cap and greasepainted face, told her to cut her headlights, then motioned her out of the car.
“Kara, you got her,” he said, stepping back and sliding a radio from his belt.
Patty actually managed a wry smile at herself for assuming the two cops were men. A slight woman, who looked absolutely gigantic with a semiautomatic at the ready, moved around the Camaro and kept her at bay from a respectful distance.
“Weapon?” she said stonily.
“On the floor, driver’s side. Listen, I’ve got to-”
“Quiet!”
The woman sidestepped around so she could shine her flash inside the car, then motioned Patty to get her gun and drop it on the ground. Patty could hear the man conversing in hushed tones with, she suspected, Lieutenant Court.
“We’re close to being out of time,” she whispered.
“Shut up!” Kara punctuated the order with a menacing flick of the muzzle of her MP5.
Patty sighed and did as she was commanded. No sense getting her head blown off by a cop. Finally, the other officer shoved his radio back into its holder and returned.
“Those people down there aren’t exactly your biggest fans,” he said.
“That’s because I don’t leave the toilet seat up in the precinct loo.”
Patty thought she saw Kara crack a smile beneath her blackface.
“Kara, take her down the road to the others. I’ll stay here with B Squad and take care of her car. Be careful.”
“Did they say if anything’s happened down there?” Patty asked.
“Nope.”
“I think that’s good.”
“Your car’ll be on a little road into the woods off this one, about ten yards down there on the right. There may be some camouflage netting on it.”
“Fine. My weapon?”
“Why not?”
Patty retrieved her shoulder holster from the trunk, slid in her Smith amp; Wesson.38 five-shot, and slipped it on.
“Nice piece,” Kara whispered as they made their way into the darkness.
Fifty feet from the parking lot, another SWAT team member materialized from the heavy underbrush, quickly got the skinny on Patty from her guide, then took charge, leading her across the narrow parking lot, over the rotting logs, and down a rocky, uneven trail toward the waterfront. Thirty yards from the lake, he motioned her off the path and into the woods, raised a finger to his lips, and pointed to a spot nearby, gesturing that she should stay there.
With the forest and dense cloud cover, the scene ahead was impressively dark, although Patty knew that somewhere overhead the moon was nearly full. The rain had given way to a fine mist, which was being blown by a steady wind from directly behind her. Across the lake, isolated lights from scattered houses battled feebly against the night. Closer, Patty thought she could make out the two-story blackness of the rec hall.
“What in hell are you doing here?”
The man’s voice, a harsh, angry whisper from behind the trees to her right, nearly stopped her heart. Lieutenant Court. Either the rustling of leaves had masked his footsteps or he was incredibly good at this sort of thing.
“I’ve unearthed some information about the victims,” she risked saying, knowing that staying on the case after Court had removed her would be grounds for a suspension, if not worse. “Something’s wrong. I think this is a trap. The killers want to punish you and Wayne for messing with them like this.”
Court, dressed like the others, was wearing earphones.
“Moriarity, you are a total screwup,” he said, “and furthermore, you’ve been mucking about on a case that I specifically removed you from.”
“I had to finish some things I had started.”
“Bullshit! You’ll answer to me tomorrow at the office. Now just stay here out of the way until this thing plays itself out.”
“But-”
He had already started off, moving smoothly and silently through the trees toward the water. Patty hesitated, then followed. Fired for a penny, fired for a pound, she was thinking. Ten yards from the shore, just inside the tree line, Court dropped to one knee, adjusting his earphones as if something was coming in for the first time. Patty inched toward him. She was no good to anyone if he wouldn’t listen to her, and she had no chance of being listened to if she didn’t try.
“Lieutenant?”
Court’s glare would have cut glass. He lifted one earphone an inch.
“What is it with you? I told you to-”
“Lieutenant, I really need to speak with you. I went through Ben Morales’s office and-”
“Shut up, it’s him!” Court hissed. “Brasco’s wearing a wire. He’s talking to the bastard right now.”
Patty moved back into the densest shadows, six feet to Court’s left. Did he mean the killer was there at the waterfront? If so, she was wrong about everything. The killers weren’t shrewd at all, and the only misdirection and mayhem that was going on was between her ears, in which case she and the help-wanted sections were about to become serious friends. Five silent minutes passed. Finally, Court turned to her.
“We’ve got him,” he whispered, his tone an equal mix of excitement and triumph. “He’s coming in.”
“In from where?”
“It’s not clear. He left a two-way radio on the beach for Grant.”
“When did he do that if your people have been here?”
“I don’t know. Must have been before the SWAT guys infiltrated the area. Fortunately, we predicted he might do something like that. Our technicians brought the VDS here and hooked it up. Brasco just spoke to him through it.”
“And what did the killer say?”
“He ordered Brasco-I mean Grant-to take the radio, go up to the center of the balcony off the second floor, and wait for instructions.”
“Why the-”
“Shit, there’s no way he can get the VDS mike up there. Brasco’ll just have to wing it.”
“What makes you think the killer’s coming in?”
“He said so. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you, Dr. Grant.’ That’s what he said. Now, just shut the F up, will you?”
A chill knifed up Patty’s spine. She wasn’t wrong after all. Brasco and Court were outmatched-way outmatched. Either this was going to be a Godzilla-size joke at their expense, no harm done, or Wayne Brasco was a dead man.
With Jack Court focused on the rec hall, she edged further away from him to the right, dropped to her hands and knees, and began a silent crawl toward the water. In moments she was at the tree line, facing a sandy beach that was eight or ten feet across. The wind had died off, and the thin mist was gone. The lake was an ebony mirror. Overhead, Patty thought she saw moonlight filtering through a rent in the clouds.