Hardbingers

7

After a lengthy, contentious discussion, with most of the heat coming from—of all people—Miller, they yielded to Jack's logic: A four-way split on foot would be the most thorough but would take the longest; pairing off in two cars would allow for only one dedicated observer per car, since the driver had to be watching the street. All four of them in one car would provide three sets of eyes to comb the cornices.

So it came down to Davis driving the Suburban with Miller shotgun, leaving Jack and Zeklos in the back.

Jack studied a Brooklyn map as they drove to Bay Ridge. He couldn't see how anyplace east of Sixth Avenue could have the view of the bridge the Oculus had described, so they started near the waterfront at Shore Road and Fourth—on the edge of John Paul Jones Park—and began working their way upriver and inland from there, snaking a winding course along the streets and avenues.

Bay Ridge was a typical New York melting pot. People of all races, all shapes and sizes. The usual delicatessens, tae kwon do studios, travel agents, restaurants, bars, and bodegas lined its streets. A BP gas station, a limo service, Domino's Pizza. Jack noticed a store awning that proclaimed itself a Tea Room and sported Arabic script.

While they waited at a red light at 99th and Third, two women wearing scarflike hijabs crossed in front of them, each pushing a baby carriage.

Miller said, "Oh, yeah. This is the place."

Davis turned onto Third Avenue. "I think we're too close to the bridge here."

Jack agreed but didn't feel the need to say so.

They were making progress, but to Jack it seemed maddeningly slow. If only they knew how much time they had.

To his right, Zeklos peered out his window, studying the edges of the passing roofs. Jack kept a look out his side but also kept an eye ahead. Not an easy task with Miller's hulking carcass jammed in front of him.

They kept doing their switchbacks, working the grid. On Third Avenue, between 92nd and 93rd, ahead and to the left, Jack spotted a three-story redbrick building with a cornice that might fit the Oculus's description. He wouldn't know until they were closer.

He nudged Zeklos and pointed. The little guy looked, then turned to Jack, eyes wide. Jack nodded and pointed to the front seat.

Zeklos hesitated only a second, then he leaned over the seat and pointed through the windshield.

"There is something!"

Davis slowed the car and craned his neck for a look. Miller leaned forward, doing the same.

"You know," Davis said, "that could be it. Good eye, Zek."

Zeklos glanced at Jack and said, "It was really—"

Jack gave him a hard nudge and shook his head.

Miller growled. "If he spotted it, you know it's wrong."

"Pull over," Jack said.

Davis stopped in an empty space before a fire hydrant and idled. Jack jumped out and looked at the building that faced the cornice. They could have been twins—three-story, brick-fronted apartment houses, but the second lacked a cornice.

He leaned close to Davis's open window.

"Give me your cell number."

Davis jotted it down.

"Okay. Drive around and keep looking while I check this out."

"Since when does he give orders?" he heard Miller say.

Jack walked away before he heard Davis's reply.

A mini-mart advertising Te-Amo cigars and lottery tickets occupied the building's street level. The residential door stood to the left. He stepped up onto the front stoop and began pressing random call buttons. Finally a tinny voice spoke from the speaker.

"Yes?"

Jack pressed his hand over his mouth and pushed a garbled mishmash of syllables through the fingers.

"What?"

He repeated the mishmash.

"Fuck it!"

The buzzer sounded and he pushed the door open. Once in he bounded up the stairs to the roof door. It warned that an alarm would sound if he opened it, but he couldn't find any contacts. He pushed it open and…

Silence.

To assure he wouldn't get locked out, he took off a shoe and used it as a wedge. Then he walked to the parapet and stared at the roof across the street.

The scene matched the Oculus's description: redbrick front, drape-and-inverted-heart cornice, and beyond that, angled to the south… the Verrazano Bridge.

The Arabs were somewhere below his feet. He hoped they belonged to Wrath of Allah…

He felt the darkness well up inside at the thought of them. He wanted—needed—to get one of those sons of bitches alone and extract a little information.

He unclenched his fists and let out a long slow breath. That could be dealt with later. Maybe. Right now… step one completed.

Jack called Davis. "I think we've found it."

"Excellent!"

"What's the next step?"

Jack knew what his next step would be, but he thought it best to let Davis and Miller think he was deferring to them.

"Come on down and we'll figure it out."

Not what Jack had in mind.

"Fine, but I don't know if I can get back in. How about this? I hang around up here and see if anyone goes in or out."

"But you don't know the apartment."

"The building's got four per floor: two front and two back. The only place you can see the roof across the street is from the third floor. That puts our guys in one of the two front apartments."

"And if someone comes out?"

"You guys grab him or follow him or whatever you think you should do." Jack hoped they'd follow him. "You any good at bird-dogging?"

"Miller's the best."

Jack nodded to himself. Okay. He'd planted the follow seed.

Davis said, "What if someone goes in?"

"Then I come downstairs, let you in, and we pay them a visit."

"Sounds like a plan. Hang on." Some muffled conversation followed—Davis obviously had his hand over the speaker—then, "Okay. We'll try it for a while. But if nothing happens, we'll bust in."

"Which one?"

"Both."

"Okay. And hey, send Zeklos up with a pack of cigarettes."

"What the hell for?"

"I need an excuse for hanging out in the hall."