“But the wall?” Jeanne questioned. “Isn’t that a major problem if we’re thinking of using a sniper rifle?”
“That might be true if we were looking to shoot from the landside of the property,” Brian said. “But from the waterside you can see it’s a different story, which is why I’m pleased that Kelley’s property is waterfront. See how the wall ends at the water’s edge? It’s typical for security-minded people to spend lots of effort on the landside but nothing from the seaside. They don’t want to block their view, which is entirely understandable. It’s why they paid such a premium for the lot.”
While they were concentrating on Brian’s phone, they weren’t aware of the car pulling up behind them until the police cruiser’s emergency light penetrated into the Subaru’s interior.
“Oh, shit,” Brian murmured, glancing in the side mirror.
She turned to look out the back window at the police car. “What’s the matter?” she asked nervously. “Is this going to be a problem?”
“Not in the short run,” he reassured her. “But if it gets recorded, it’s got me situated near the MMH CEO’s house.”
“Do you care?”
“Not necessarily, I’d just prefer it didn’t happen.” Brian got out the car’s registration, his driver’s license, and his NYPD ID in anticipation of the officer’s arrival.
A few minutes ticked by. “What do you think he’s doing?” Jeanne asked, continuing to peer out the back window.
“I’m sure he’s calling his dispatcher,” he said. “The Kings Point PD is a modest organization. I’m sure he’s solo, and you’re supposed to let dispatch know what you’re up to.”
A few minutes later the uniformed police officer got out of his cruiser, put on his peaked cap, adjusted his gear belt, then walked up to the Subaru. Brian lowered the window as he came closer.
“Afternoon,” the policeman said. He was an older gentleman with white hair and fleshy jowls. “May I see your license and registration, please?”
“Of course,” Brian replied pleasantly. He handed them out the window, being sure to keep the NYPD ID on top, which the policeman immediately noticed.
“Hmm,” he said. “Retired NYPD?”
“Yup,” Brian affirmed. “Retired from the ESU not quite ten months ago to start a private security firm.”
“Interesting,” the policeman said. “Excuse me, but I’ll be right back.”
“What’s he doing now?” Jeanne fretted as she watched the policeman climb back into his vehicle.
“Just checking if it all matches up,” Brian said knowingly. “He’s being appropriately careful.”
A few minutes later the policeman got out of his car and returned to the Subaru. He handed back Brian’s license, registration, and ID. “Sorry to bother you people,” he said. “But the homeowners out here are sensitive about strange cars, particularly strange parked cars. They call us all the time. Are you lost? Do you need any directions?”
“We’re fine,” Brian reassured him. “Thank you, Officer. Just making our way home.”
“Okay. Have a nice evening,” the policeman said.
Brian returned the documents to their proper locations, pocketed his phone, and put the Subaru in gear. “I didn’t see that coming, but it is a good lesson. You have to expect the unexpected in what we are doing. Regardless, I’d say we’ve made significant progress. Next up is finding out where Heather Williams lives. Once we have that, we can get down to business.”
“How about we do it tomorrow?” she said.
“I’m with you,” he said. “I need this. It will keep me from the reality of what happened this morning.”
Chapter 37
September 11
As there was no place to pull over at the bed-and-breakfast Jeanne had found on Seaman Avenue just down the street from her former apartment, Brian had to double-park. In Inwood, as in the rest of Manhattan, double- and even sometimes triple-parking was a way of life. With his hazard lights on, he used his phone to text her that he was outside waiting.
It had been just a little more than a week since he and Jeanne had followed Charles Kelley’s Maybach out to his fancy estate in Kings Point, and it had been an enormously busy time for both. They had continued their extensive and meticulous planning with progressive zeal and, in the process, became only more committed to exacting revenge on both Charles Kelley and Heather Williams. From a practical standpoint he attributed their efforts as the chief reason he’d been able to get through the immediate aftermath of Juliette’s death. Had it not been for the considerable concentration that the planning involved, he doubted he would have been able to emotionally weather the wake, the funeral, and the interment. Even so, it hadn’t been easy by any stretch of the imagination. During his appearance at the wake, he tried his best not to look at Juliette’s body, which he was mostly successful at doing, and at the burial he kept his eyes closed during the ceremony and spent the time going over in his mind all the contingencies he could imagine for the plan.
After Brian had left the wake at around two p.m., he’d gotten in his car and picked up Jeanne from her apartment on Seaman Avenue. She had not attended the wake since they had decided it best if they were no longer seen together by his family and Camila, so she’d be less likely to be implicated when all hell broke loose. By three they had been parked by a fire hydrant on Sixth Avenue in view of the building where Peerless Health had its home office. As a reward for their patience, they’d seen Heather Williams emerge at four p.m. sharp with her entourage and climb into a waiting Mercedes.
As they’d started the following process, mimicking what they’d done with Kelley, they’d made a wager on where they might be going, with Brian favoring Greenwich, Connecticut, because of Heather Williams’s apparent love of horses, and Jeanne favoring the fancy areas of New Jersey for the same reason. Both had turned out to be wrong. When they found themselves again heading out to Long Island, they started to entertain the hope that the two like-minded executives lived in the same very wealthy town, which would make things a lot easier. But that had not turned out to be the case, as they’d sped past both turnoffs from the Long Island Expressway that led out to Kings Point.
Instead, the Mercedes had left the expressway and then headed north on the way out to the second north-facing Long Island peninsula. It had turned out that Heather Williams lived in Sands Point, essentially across the Manhasset Bay from Charles Kelley’s house, reminding Brian of the fictitious East Egg and West Egg of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby. As such, it was just as convenient as if they lived in the same town and maybe more so because Heather Williams’s house was also waterfront property. The difference was that Heather’s mansion was on a significantly larger plot of land that included a stable and a fenced-in paddock, which they had been able to discover by looking at satellite maps. Neither could be seen from the road. Like Kelley’s house, the property had a wireless controlled gate, a surrounding wall, a swimming pool, and a lengthy pier.
Brian’s phone chimed, indicating he’d gotten a text message. When he checked it, he saw that Jeanne was on her way down. Accordingly, he got out of the car and opened up the back. The rear seats were down to provide more storage space, and a blanket covered what was there. Brian pulled the blanket aside for Jeanne’s things. Already present was his luggage, the rifle bag with the Remington MSR, assault tools he’d borrowed from the ESU Academy, night-vision goggles, a ketamine dart pistol, rope, a window anchor for rapid escape, his P365 Sig Sauer fitted with a different barrel and a suppressor, and a few other sundries he thought he might need. In his luggage was his French passport and as much cash as he could amass without causing undue alarm. For clothes he was wearing his black ESU tactical uniform but stripped of any markings.