Ambush
- Автор: Паттерсон Джеймс, Борн Джеймс О.
- Серия: Michael Bennett #11
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Little, Brown and Company
- ISBN: 978-0-316-27398-5
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Ambush». Краткое содержание книги:
Without hesitation Alex said, “Philly.”
“I don’t know if Philadelphia enforces the law, but here in New York we do.” She wrote something else in her ticket book, then continued to lecture Alex.
“If you don’t pay attention to the signs, you get a ticket. Just as simple as that.”
Alex didn’t like the position she had been put in and couldn’t afford to be readily identified by someone who worked for the city. Her pistol was stuffed next to the seat for tactical purposes. She always carried it there when she was driving.
She was prepared for situations like this.
The traffic enforcement agent said, “I need your license.”
Alex sighed and retrieved her wallet from her purse. She pulled out a valid Pennsylvania license in the name of Michelle Pagan and gave it to the agent.
It was legit except for the photo. It also would cost her $2,600 and was now useless. She’d have to toss it as soon as she was free of this overzealous agent. It was too bad. She had started to build this identity up nicely.
As the woman finished writing the ticket, Alex noticed Detective Michael Bennett walk out the main door of his building with another man. The man was almost as tall as Bennett and had an eighties mustache. He had to be another cop.
Alex needed to get going and felt her anxiety rise.
She was careful not to snatch the ticket from the parking attendant when she signed it. There was no sense in pushing this woman any further.
She scribbled her false name, then darted into traffic with the rental car. She could see Bennett’s Impala a few blocks up and fell into her surveillance mode again.
Chapter 70
I wasn’t that crazy about meeting the regulator again. I understood he had a certain image and wanted to project that he was quirky and odd and that everyone could trust him, but he was nevertheless involved in the drug trade. I didn’t care if he talked about curbing violence and making everyone happy — he still lived off other people’s misery.
Sergeant Tim Marcia had once again set up a meeting. We had to find out more information, because the last lead the regulator had given us was a dead end. With Julio Laza out of the picture, I had nowhere else to look.
We met in the lobby of the Aloft Hotel, a little south of our office. The bar tucked in next to the side entrance was empty, and we sat at a table where no one could hear us. A skinny young waiter delivered my Coca-Cola and a glass of Scotch for John, the regulator.
Today John was a little more dressed up, with a long-sleeved plaid shirt and a bolo tie. His long silver-streaked hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and the beautiful woman who had been sent to keep an eye on him was nowhere in sight. I didn’t ask any questions about it.
He insisted on paying for his drink, and I noticed the first name Johann on his American Express card. Again, I wasn’t going to ask any questions.
The regulator said, “I heard what happened to the Dominicans I told you about. Did you have anything to do with their deaths?”
“Not at all.”
“You realize that no one on the street or in their crew believes they shot each other in an argument.”
“I don’t believe it, either.”
“The whole crew is running scared. Whoever they crossed has no sense of humor whatsoever.”
I said, “I was hoping you might have another lead for me or some information I could use.”
The regulator shook his head and said, “I was lucky to get those names. Things are odd right now with this unpleasantness going on between the Mexicans and the Canadians.”
“So you have no idea why they would want to kill me?”
The regulator said, “The question is, what would lead them to you? What connection do you have to the Mexican cartel?”
I thought about everything that had happened in the recent past. Brian being arrested. My being forced to shoot a teenage hit man named Diego in the Columbia library. The man who had corrupted Brian.
I snapped my fingers.
The regulator said, “There’s always a moment when things become crystal clear. What have you recalled, my friend?”
“Caracortada.”
This time it was Sergeant Marcia who said, “The guy we arrested in his underwear? What’s Caracortada mean again?”
The regulator said, “Scarface.”
I said, “He’s a dealer for the cartel. I locked him up a few months back, and he’s in Rikers Island right now.”
The regulator took a sip of the Scotch and said, “Perhaps he could help.”
Chapter 71
Alex Martinez saw Bennett pull to the curb near the Aloft Hotel. She slipped her car into an overpriced lot and followed him and the other tall police officer into the lobby. Alex had been there before. She headed right for the lobby bar, where she almost ran into Bennett and the other detective, seated at a table tucked in behind the bar. There was something familiar about the man they were meeting.
Alex picked up her camera and snapped a few photos inside the lobby, as if she were cataloging the architecture.
A little girl in a pretty blue dress smiled and waved a tiny hand at her. Alex smiled back and knelt down so the little girl could see her camera more clearly.
The girl’s mother said, “Don’t bother the nice lady, Susanna.”
Alex said, “No — it’s fine. I miss my own daughters, so it’s nice to see a friendly little girl.”
It was true that she missed her daughters, but the little girl also provided her with better cover. No one would suspect her if she was kneeling down to chat with a little girl in the lobby.
Alex also used the opportunity to snap a quick photo of Bennett and the man he was meeting in the bar, an older man with long, graying hair.
Then Alex realized who it was. Johann Batterberg. He called himself John and claimed to be some kind of drug-world negotiator. She had once heard him referred to as “the narcotics whisperer.” He brokered deals between rival gangs, avoiding unnecessary violence.
Suddenly she realized that Bennett was working hard at trying to figure out who had ordered the hit on him. He must have reasoned that it was someone in the narcotics business. He was definitely a smart detective.
It was interesting that he was talking to the regulator. While the Austrian-born man was involved in a lot of different negotiations, the major cartels tended to ignore him completely. They gave no credence to the idea that anyone besides them wielded power in the business. She wondered what kind of information Johann could provide to Bennett.
Suddenly this was getting very interesting. She might have to move her schedule for eliminating Bennett ahead, before he figured anything out.
When the little meeting broke up, she already had her car ready to go. She watched Bennett and the other police officer as they stepped onto the street.
Chapter 72
I didn’t bring Sergeant Tim Marcia to Rikers Island with me. I was a little embarrassed that I had missed such an obvious link as Caracortada. His real name was Albert Stass, and he had been born in Uruguay, then raised in Mexico. I had barely even met the man, even though I was part of the team that arrested him and sat in on his early hearings.
That didn’t mean I didn’t know a lot about him. He’d ruined my life. At least ruined it as much as any one man could. He had set up a network of high school students to sell various forms of methamphetamine and ecstasy. The Mexican cartel considered synthetic drugs the next logical step in their business plan.
Unfortunately, my son Brian was one of the kids Stass had corrupted. That’s how it started, anyway. Later he had used terror tactics to keep the kids in line. My son was so scared that he ended up going to prison without revealing any information.