Part 60 (2/2)

The outside of Macintyre's prewar building was definitely showing wear and tear. The stone was chipped and stained, and there were even a couple of cracked windows. I expected the same, if not worse, once we got inside.

Not so, though. It was clean, modern, and quite nice, actually. Brooklyn hip. You would've thought I'd have learned by now.

Things aren't always as they appear.

We left one officer covering the foyer. The rest of us began climbing the stairs. By the fourth floor a couple of the officers-let's just call them big-boned-were seriously cursing the absence of an elevator. About a hundred cops-and-doughnuts jokes came to mind. I kept them all to myself.

”There,” I said, pointing at Macintyre's door when we reached the fifth floor. It was in the middle of the hallway. Apartment 5B.

Silently, Sarah took control of the ch.o.r.eography. She and Harris lined up on one side of the door, I lined up on the other. Fanning out behind us were the officers-two crouched, the rest standing. Guns drawn.

I knocked.

When we didn't hear anything, I reached over and knocked again.

Still nothing.

It was Sarah's hand that reached out across the door this time. She gripped the k.n.o.b and shrugged. It was worth a shot.

Well, what do you know...

The good news? The door was open.

The bad news? The door was open.

The little man in my head in charge of waving the red flag suddenly got very busy.

What the h.e.l.l were we walking into?

Chapter 96

IT WAS SO silent in the hallway the squeak of the hinges sounded like a jet taking off.

Slowly, the door opened. No one moved.

I counted to five seconds. Then ten. Finally, I called out. ”Robert, are you in there?”

If he was, he wasn't answering.

The nudge at my side was one of the officers handing me the telescopic mirror, or, as I liked to call it, the peekaboo. It sure beat sticking my head out and getting it blown off. Been there, and almost done that, at the cabin with Sarah. I wasn't about to press my luck.

<script>