Fast and Loose

53

Erik Macher was on his way to the office, listening to satellite news, when he heard the report.

“Last night in New York City, in the wee hours, an NYPD patrol car came across a man in the East Forties putting tape over his license plate. When the two officers questioned him, the man drew a pistol and shot them both, then was shot in return by the two officers. A police spokesman said that both officers were wearing ballistic vests and are not seriously injured, and the shooter is at Bellevue Hospital and talking to officers. He is expected to recover.”

Macher called Jake Herman on his cell.

“Yeah?”

“Have you heard the news?”

“Barrington is dead?”

“No, but Swenson is in Bellevue with two gunshot wounds, and he’s talking.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’d better not come to work, and don’t go home, either.”

“I’m at home now.”

“Well, get out of there and call me at mid-morning. I’ll deal with the police.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Go get some breakfast or something, just go!” Macher hung up. He drove to his office and parked out back, then let himself into the building and ran to his office. He opened his safe, pulled on some latex gloves, and put his timers and detonators into the box containing the remainder of his explosives, then took it out of the safe and into the alley. He walked fifty yards away and put the box carefully into a neighbor’s dumpster, then returned to his office and had a good look around for any trace of the explosives. He went to Jake’s office and did the same, then he went back to his desk and sat down.

The police arrived around 8:30. They hammered on the front door, and he raced to open it before they crashed in.

“Good morning,” he said to the four armed and suited men and two detectives. “Can I help you?”

“Mind if we come in?” a detective asked.

He led them to his office and sat down. “Now,” he said, “what’s this all about?”

“Have you listened to the news this morning?”

“I’m afraid not. Is there something I should know about?”

“Do you have two employees named Jacob Herman and Daniel Swenson?”

“Yes, but they aren’t in yet. I usually get in before anyone else.”

“Do you know their whereabouts?”

Macher glanced at his watch. “I suppose they’re on their way to work. You’re welcome to wait for them. Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks, but while we’re waiting, let me serve you with this warrant to search the premises.” He handed Macher the document.

Macher dropped it, unread, on his desk and spread his hands. “Please help yourself,” he said. “You don’t need a warrant, I’m happy to help.”

“Where are your two employees’ offices?”

“Mr. Herman’s is to your left at the end of the hall. Mr. Swenson is to your right at the other end.”

He turned to his men. “Okay, two of you in each office, we’ll take this room.” He turned back to Macher. “Stand up.”

Macher stood up, backed away from his desk, and leaned against the wall. “Let me know if I can help.”

The two detectives went methodically through his desk and filing cabinets and asked him to open the safe. “I’m happy to do so. When do I get to know what this is all about?” He worked the combination.

One detective started on the safe. “You have permits for all these weapons?”

“In the box on the right-side shelf, along with my business license,” Macher replied.

“It’s like this,” the other detective said, “last night in New York City a patrol car came across your employee Swenson putting tape over his license plate.”

“Swenson isn’t supposed to be in New York,” Macher said. “He’s due here for work, like always.”

“Well, he’s in Bellevue Hospital, instead, with two bullets in him.”

“Why would they shoot him?”

“Because he shot them first. Luckily, they were wearing protective gear.”

“This is crazy!” Macher said, giving his best performance. “Swenson is a good man, a decorated veteran of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Well, now he’s charged with two counts of attempted murder.”

“This is insane. What does Swenson have to say?”

A uniform came back. “The offices are clean of anything that could be of use to us.”

“Listen,” Macher said, “it sounds like Swenson went off his rocker. He’s had problems with post-traumatic stress disorder, going back to his army days. I can’t think of any other reason he’d go to New York, shoot two policemen.”

“We don’t know. We were hoping to find some answers here. When did you last speak to Mr. Herman?”

“Yesterday when he left work. I called him on the way to work this morning but got his voice mail. He should have been at work an hour and a half ago.”

The detective gave him a card. “When you hear from Herman, give us a call, and tell him not to go anywhere until we’ve talked to him.”

Macher took the card. “I hope you’ll ask your colleagues in New York to treat Dan Swenson like a wounded veteran, instead of a criminal suspect.”

“We’ll pass along the information.” The detectives thanked him for his cooperation and left.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Jake Herman called.

“Where are you, Jake?”

“Down the street in a diner. You know the one.”

“The cops have already been here and torn the place apart, but they didn’t find anything.”

“I don’t want to talk on the phone,” Jake said. “We need to meet.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, someplace they’d never look for me.”

“I can think of a place,” Macher said. “It belongs to Ed Rawls, but he’s at his house in Maine. It’s an hour, hour and a half from here.” He gave him directions. “If you get there before I do, break in, but disable the alarm first. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Okay.”

Macher’s secretary walked in. “This place is a mess,” she said.

“I have to go out,” Macher said. “Please tidy up. Jake and Dan won’t be in today.”

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow, the next day, maybe. We’ve got a new client.”

Macher went into the alley, removed the explosives from the neighbor’s dumpster, and put them in the trunk of his car. He chose weapons from the safe, then got the car started and headed south.