Reckless Abandon

43

STONE WAS SCRAMBLING eggs when Holly came downstairs, wrapping a robe around her naked body.

“Good morning,” he said.

“No, it isn’t. That son of a bitch would have killed us last night if you hadn’t talked him out of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do the alarm every night.”

Holly picked up a phone and dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“A certain cell phone.” She waited, tapping her foot. “Grant? Listen to me: Your star witness got out of his cage last night, came into my bedroom with a gun, and threatened to kill me. I’m filing a formal complaint with the NYPD about this… What?” She put her hand over the phone and turned to Stone. “Turn on the TV.”

Stone switched it on. “What are we looking for?”

“Try CNN.”

He switched to CNN. A reporter was standing in front of Trini’s apartment building on East Eighty-eighth Street. “So one FBI agent is dead and another wounded, apparently by a man being held as a material witness. We don’t have a photograph yet, but his name is Trini Rodriguez, also known as Robert Marshall. He is in his mid-thirties, six feet two inches tall, one hundred and eighty pounds, and of Latin and Italian extraction. We expect to have a photograph of him later this morning.”

“So,” Holly said into the phone, “you got one of your people killed and another hurt?… Of course you did it! You’re responsible!” She held the phone away from her. “He hung up.”

“So, Trini is on the streets?” Stone asked.

“Since early this morning,” Holly said. “Grant couldn’t tell me anything more than CNN did.”

“You and I go armed everywhere,” Stone said.

“Too right. Where do we start looking for him?”

“Let me call Dino.” Stone dialed Dino’s cell phone number. “I hear our boy is off his leash,” he said.

“And in a big way,” Dino replied. “We’re taking a backseat to the Feds on this, since killing an FBI agent is a federal crime.”

“So you’re not actively looking for him?”

“Oh, sure. We’ve sent a photograph to all precincts and issued an APB.”

“You have any clues to his whereabouts?”

“If I did, he’d be in a cell right now.”

“Will you keep me posted?”

“Sure, that’s my only job, isn’t it?”

“Thanks, Dino.” He hung up. “The NYPD is on it, but the Feds are taking the lead. He’ll turn up.”

“You don’t understand,” Holly said. “I want to turn him up. I want to find him before they do.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“Call your Mafia friend again. Ask him what he knows.”

“I’ll call him, but he won’t know anything. He can put the word out, and if anybody is sheltering him, he might call me.”

“Then we’ll know something the NYPD and the Feds won’t.”

“If we’re lucky.”

“It’s about time we got lucky.”

Stone couldn’t disagree with that.

“Let’s go to Little Italy,” she said.

“After breakfast and a shower.”

Hungry and unshowered, Stone drove slowly up and down the narrow streets of Little Italy. He stopped the car in front of a deli. “Go in and get us a roll and coffee.”

“Keep driving,” she replied.

“This car isn’t moving until I’ve had breakfast.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, getting out and slamming the door. She came back shortly with a paper bag and two cups of coffee.

Stone dug in. “This is when it happens,” he said, looking around the street.

“When what happens?”

“When we see him. When I’m right in the middle of eating. Remember last time? I never got lunch.”

“Oh, stop your bitching,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We’ve got a real chance of catching this guy now.”

“I don’t think you want to catch him.”

“What?”

“You just want to go on hunting him. You enjoy it.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve already admitted that you’re bored stiff in your job. You just want to get out of that little town in Florida and see some of the world, and Trini Rodriguez is your ticket.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, but less heatedly.

“If we catch the guy it’s going to be a real downer for you, assuming you survive the experience, which, if the events of last night are any indication, you may not.”

“Oh, I’m going to survive. Don’t you worry about that. Trini’s chances are not so hot, though.”

“Let me tell you what to hope for.”

“What?”

“Hope the NYPD catches the bastard, because they just might honor your warrant as a way of pissing off the FBI, which they love to do. Also, hope Trini doesn’t kill a cop in the process, because if that happens, they’ll never release him to you or the Feds.”

“I hope I see him on the street, so I can get just one clear shot at him.”

“Holly, this is not the O.K. Corral, and you are not Wyatt Earp. This is New York City; millions of people live here, and most of them are on the street every day.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Stone sighed. “I hope to God you do.”

“Did you call your friend Eduardo?”

“And when would I have had a chance to do that?” Stone put his empty cup into the paper bag and handed it to Holly. “All right, I’ll do it now.” He got out his cell phone and dialed the number. Pete answered and connected him.

“Good morning, Stone,” Eduardo said. “Have you had any luck finding this Trini fellow?”

“No, Eduardo, and this morning he killed an FBI agent who was guarding him and wounded another.”

“This man must be stopped,” Eduardo said.

“He’s on the run now, and I’d be grateful for any help you could give me in locating him.”

“I’ll make some calls,” Eduardo said. “Are you at home?”

“No, I’m on my cell phone.” Stone gave him the number, and Eduardo hung up.

“Happy?” he said to Holly.

“Deliriously,” she said grumpily.

A man in a raincoat walked up to Stone’s side of the car. “Excuse me,” he said.

Stone turned and looked up at him, only to find himself looking into both barrels of a sawed-off shotgun.

“I’ve got one over here, too,” Holly said.

“What can I do for you?” Stone asked, placing his hands on the steering wheel.

“You can do what you’re told,” the man said.

“Shoot,” Stone replied. “No, scrub that-I mean, your wish is my pleasure.”

“You got a good attitude,” the man said. “Get out of the car.”