Private Rogue

Chapter 82

I set us down at Manhattan Heliport, which was located at the southernmost tip of the island. By the time I’d settled the charter, Jessie had arrived to collect us. As Justine, Floyd and I made our way through the parking lot to the Toyota, I thought back to my last time here — chasing the assassin who’d killed my friend. Far too many people had died as part of the twisted games of state played by enemies set on destroying everything we stood for. I was determined that Beth Singer and her children wouldn’t be added to the list of victims.

Jessie caught sight of the Bull replica as I climbed into the front seat of the Toyota and she slid in beside me.

“Souvenir?” she asked.

“We think this is what they’re after,” I replied. “We need to get it into the lab.”

She nodded, started the engine and pulled out of the heliport, before heading north on FDR Drive.

“Everyone OK?” she asked.

I nodded, and Justine and Floyd did likewise. None of us said anything, though. I think we were all too aware of the ticking clock.

It was approaching 3 a.m. and everywhere was eerily quiet. There were hardly any other vehicles on the road, and as we turned off FDR Drive and made our way through the city, there were hardly any people around either. It was as though New York had inhaled and was holding its breath for a moment, pausing before breathing life into a new day. The bright lights of electronic billboards shone over frozen sidewalks and the LED advertisements stuck to the handful of yellow cabs that navigated the deserted streets danced across the lanes like fireflies.

Jessie drove us north to Madison and East 26th where we parked in the subterranean garage before taking the elevator to Private’s offices. Sci and Mo-bot were waiting for us.

“It’s good to see you, Jack,” Sci said warmly when we stepped out of the elevator. He clasped my hand and pulled me in for a hug.

“This is Joshua Floyd,” I said. “Seymour Kloppenberg.”

“Good to meet you. Congratulations on getting out of Afghanistan,” Sci said, shaking Floyd’s hand. “Call me Sci.”

“Thanks, Sci,” Floyd replied.

They all looked at me expectantly.

“Sorry to keep you all up,” I told them. “But we think this is what they’re after.” I brandished the Wall Street Bull. “Taken off the desk of a Russian asset called Konstantin Roslov. We need a full analysis.”

“We’ll find out what we can about Roslov,” Jessie said, and Mo-bot nodded.

“And I’ll have a look at this thing,” Sci remarked, taking the Bull from me. “It’s heavy.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said, but Justine shook her head and pulled me to one side.

“You’re going to rest, Jack. You and Captain Floyd must be running on fumes, and you’re no good to us exhausted.”

I looked at Sci, who smiled knowingly as he headed for the lab. Mo-bot and Jessie had already gone.

“You either trust your people to do right or you don’t,” Floyd observed. “Personally I could do with some shut eye.”

“We’ll get you set up somewhere,” Justine told him. “And the same goes for you, Jack Morgan.”