Part 14 (1/2)

”And yet as nice as you were, you and Horton are still not on a first-name basis.”

She shrugged. ”Okay, I may have pushed his b.u.t.tons a little too hard, but you have to admit he knows something.”

”He knows a lot more than something,” I said. ”Did you see all that equipment-boxes of phones, cords, cable, wiring, installer tools? Maybe he really is sentimental about all that old c.r.a.p, but there was more in those boxes than phone nostalgia.”

”Like what?”

”Like when I dug my hand into that one box and pulled out the Princess phone, I saw a piece of equipment that didn't come from Ma Bell or any phone company he ever worked for,” I said. ”It was made by Shenzhen Adika, and they don't make cute little pink telephones for teenagers. They're in China, cranking out high-tech audio and video surveillance systems you can buy at any one of those spy shop websites.”

”Son of a b.i.t.c.h,” Kylie said. ”He was bugging Catt's apartment?”

”Think about it. He's positive that Catt murdered his wife. How hard would it be for a guy like LaFleur who installed phones all his life to wire Catt's apartment, hoping he could pick up something that would connect Catt to Hattie's murder?”

”If you're right, we should search Catt's apartment,” Kylie said. ”We wouldn't even need a warrant. It's still sealed. It's part of the ongoing investigation.”

”We can get in there easy enough,” I said, ”but we won't find anything. Whatever LaFleur put in there, he disa.s.sembled as soon as Catt disappeared. It's gone, and even if we did find a bug in that apartment, we can't prove LaFleur installed it, and we certainly can't get him to talk.”

”Do you think he knows the guy-or the guys-who killed Catt?” Kylie said.

”No, but he probably could help us find out who did,” I said.

”But he won't,” Kylie said. ”As far as he's concerned, the Hazmat Killer is every bit as heroic as Bernie Goetz.”

”He's not alone,” I said. ”A lot of people in this city are rooting for Hazmat. He-they-who knows how many there are? All people know is that he's killing sc.u.mbags who got away with murder. h.e.l.l...they've even given him a fan page on Facebook. They love him.”

”Then they sure as h.e.l.l are going to hate us,” Kylie said. ”Because we're the ones who are going to bring him down.”

That's the thing about Kylie. Nothing rattles her confidence. Certainly not a crusty old codger like Horton LaFleur.

Chapter 34.

”Where to next?” I said, getting behind the wheel of the Interceptor.

”The two choices are at opposite ends of Manhattan,” Kylie said. ”Victim number one was Alex Kang-Chinatown. Or number three, Antoine Tinsdale-Harlem. Your call.”

”Wherever we wind up, we're going to be closing in on lunch, and as much as I love Marcus Samuelsson's Red Rooster up in Harlem, I haven't had good dim sum since the Year of the Monkey.”

”Done deal,” Kylie said, giving me a thumbs-up.

”Whoever said police work was difficult?” I said, heading toward the FDR Drive.

”Speaking of monkeys, Chinatown is Donovan and Boyle's regular beat,” Kylie said. ”They've been working out of the Five for years. You would think that as sloppy as their reports were, their file on Kang would be the one they'd get right. But according to their notes, they only talked to one guy.”

”I saw that. They probably talked to more, but they only named one in their report. Those two coppers are not big on paperwork.”

”That would just mean they're lazy,” Kylie said. ”But did you see the name of the person they interviewed?”

I laughed. ”Yeah, I did.”

”It's not funny, Zach. They obviously didn't give a s.h.i.+t, and they probably never thought someone else would be taking over the case.”

”I'll take the drive down to the Brooklyn Bridge exit,” I said. ”Give me the exact address in Chinatown.”

”I can give you what they wrote in their report,” she said. ”Who knows if those n.u.m.b.n.u.t.s got it right? All they wrote down was 'CP Emperors gang HQ-Fifty-Eight Mulberry.'”

”And remind me again,” I said, busting her chops. ”What's the name of the guy they interviewed?”

She opened one of the files and pretended to look through it. ”Let's see,” she said, playing along and milking the situation for all it was worth. ”Oh, here it is. According to their flawless record keeping, Detectives Donovan and Boyle interviewed a g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger named John Doe.”

Chapter 35.

The CP Emperors headquarters was on the ground floor of a squat redbrick building in the heart of the Chinese community. It looked relatively innocuous, but clearly it was a fortress. The windows were barred, a rolled-up metal security gate spanned the front, and the entry door was solid steel. The only thing missing was a moat.

Kylie pounded on the front door. ”NYPD,” she yelled. Then she turned to me. ”I think we should identify ourselves, just in case they can't figure out who the white couple pulling up to their building in an unmarked cop car is.”

The door opened, and a sallow-faced Chinese g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger blocked our path. He was dressed in black, which is normally a slimming color, but it did nothing to hide his three hundred pounds. He filled the doorway.

”NYPD,” I repeated. ”Who's in charge?”

”You got a warrant?”

”Why would we need a warrant? We're just here to talk.”

”We got nothing to talk about. Now get the f.u.c.k out of here.”

And then we heard it coming from the other side of the door. Loud, clear, and unmistakable. Click. Clack. The distinct sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, most likely a semiautomatic.

Kylie didn't hesitate. She reached behind her right hip and drew her Glock. ”Down on the floor!” she yelled. She didn't wait for a response.

She jerked her right foot straight between Fat Boy's legs and hit paydirt. He grabbed his b.a.l.l.s, doubled over, and dropped like a canary in a coal mine.

I had no idea how many CP Emperors were in there, and I had no interest in finding out. I drew my gun and yelled from behind the door, ”NYPD! Weapons down. Weapons down-now!”

I braced for the first shot to be fired and hoped the door was thick enough.

”Bulls.h.i.+t,” said a voice from the other side. ”You got no right to pull guns on us.”

”Don't tell us what we can't do,” Kylie yelled back. ”As soon as that a.s.shole racked the slide on that semi, we stopped needing a warrant. Exigent circ.u.mstances. Toss them. Now.”