When Darkness Falls

chapter 38

O n his way out of the restaurant, Jack stopped at the doughnut bar. He was hungry, and there was plenty to choose from. In Miami, doughnuts were to doughnut bars what sea turtles were to turtle soup. There were pastelitos, warm and flaky Cuban pastries with guava and other fillings that Sara Lee never dreamed of. Some had ham or ground beef inside, and the sweet crust with salty meat produced a surprisingly tasty combination. There were capuchinos, which were not misspelled cups of coffee but delicate sponge-cake cones drenched in sweet syrup. The empanadas and croquetas smelled pretty amazing, too, though not nearly as good as the ones Jack’s abuela made. The bottom line was, not a plain old doughnut to be had. Perhaps it was a trend. Jack had read in the New York Times or somewhere that cupcakes were now all the rage in New York precincts. Those guys still had a long way to come.

Jack grabbed a coconut pastelito and stepped outside to make a call. Talking things out always helped him think. His abuela told him that he got that from his mother. Even though Jack had never known his mother-she’d died in childbirth-he was quite confident that Ana Maria Fuentes Swyteck’s favorite sounding board had been nothing like Theo Knight. With Theo held hostage, however, Jack turned to his father to help him brainstorm. Jack wasn’t sure if the former governor could help, but Falcon had told Jack to call him. If nothing else, it might help Jack lie more convincingly if he could at least say, truthfully, that he had indeed spoken to Harry Swyteck.

“You know me,” said Jack. “I’ve never been a good liar.”

“Then you should give up defense work and go back to being a prosecutor.”

What else could he expect from a former police officer? “That’s a real belly-buster, Dad.”

“Sorry. I can hear the tightness in your voice. My bad attempt to loosen you up a little for your own good.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Have you spoken to your grandmother?” asked Harry.

“No.”

“You should try to take a minute and do that. Your name is all over the television. She’s going to be worried sick about you.”

“I’ll try. Can you call her for me, tell her I’m doing all right?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Doing all right?” said Harry.

Jack didn’t answer right away. “I’m doing better than Theo. Right now, that’s the test.”

“Well, it must seem absurd to hear me say this, but your friend Theo is definitely a survivor.”

He was right. It seemed beyond absurd, coming from the man who’d signed Theo’s death warrant. But Jack didn’t want to rehash that history. “I need your help.”

“Sure. What can I do?”

“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on inside the City of Miami Police Department.”

“How do you mean?”

Through the plate-glass window, Jack caught a glimpse of the television that was playing inside the restaurant. The SWAT members were gathered around it. “Dad, turn on channel seven. I’ll call you right back.”

“What’s going on?”

“Mayor Mendoza is speaking live on television. I need to hear this. I want you to hear it, too.” Jack switched off his phone and ran inside. He found a spot in back, behind the crowd of SWAT members in tactical fatigues, where he had a clear line of sight to the television. The volume was set at the max, making the tinny speaker rattle with each voice inflection.

On screen, Mayor Mendoza was standing in front of Miami’s city hall, having completed his prepared statement, poised to take questions from the media. He was dressed in the same dark suit that he’d worn for his conversation with Jack in the backseat of his limo, but he had changed neckties. It was how publicists earned their keep, Jack presumed, assuring the Mayor Mendozas of the world that a pink tie was all wrong and that the red one conveyed the necessary firmness and resolve.

“Has the gunman demanded to speak to your daughter again?” a reporter asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” said the mayor.

“Will she speak to him if he does make that demand?”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Has your daughter told you that directly?”

“Both Sergeant Paulo and Chief Renfro have given me that assurance.”

Another reporter jumped in, an old muckraker who used to pester Jack all the time, back when Harry Swyteck was governor and Jack was the young and rebellious thorn in his father’s side. His name was Eddy Malone. “Mr. Mayor, can you assure the families of these hostages that you’re doing all you can to secure the release of their loved ones?”

“That is our unfailing commitment.”

“But how can you give that assurance if you won’t even entertain the possibility of letting your daughter-who is a trained police officer-speak to this Falcon character?”

“The best way to answer your question is to point out that I’m not the one drawing the line here,” said the mayor. “Sergeant Paulo has handled many of these crisis situations, and it’s his very firm view that you don’t feed a stalker’s sickness by giving in and letting him talk to the very woman he is obsessed with. I’m following his advice on this point.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open, ready to release an involuntary “What?”

The mayor kept talking. “I simply want to add that I have the utmost confidence in Vince Paulo.”

Malone said, “So, you’re not at all concerned that Sergeant Paulo might not be ready for this crisis, given his recent leave of absence?”

“If by ‘leave of absence’ you mean his blindness, the answer to your question is an unqualified ‘no.’ He wouldn’t be in this position if he weren’t the best man for the job. Period. That’s all the time I have now for questions. It’s time to let the police do their work. Thank you all.” He gave a simple wave, turned, and went back inside City Hall.

Jack didn’t stick around to listen to the newscaster’s recap. He grabbed his phone, ready to dial his father back, then thought better of it. He knew the cops were tweaking his cell calls to keep the press and other eavesdroppers from picking up his conversations with Falcon. At the moment, there were probably enough technological gadgets crammed into the surrounding city block to turn his cell phone into a virtual party line. He hurried outside and dialed from the pay phone on the wall.

“Did you see that?” said Jack.

Harry seemed puzzled by the urgency in Jack’s voice. “Yeah, but I can’t say that I heard anything that surprised me. The mayor obviously doesn’t want his daughter talking to that lunatic any more than I want you talking to him.”

“Believe me, the mayor’s feelings are much stronger than yours. Too strong for his own good, perhaps.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack told him about the phone conversation in the back of the mayor’s limo and the surprise visit from Detective Barber in the bathroom. Then he said, “The medical examiner says that the woman I found in the trunk of Falcon’s car was beaten to death on Thursday night.”

“Okay. What of it?”

Jack checked over his shoulder, making sure no one was around. He waited for two patrol officers to disappear inside the restaurant before continuing. “What would you say if I told you that the mayor’s bodyguard was seen down by the river, near Falcon’s car, right about that same time?”

“I’d probably want to ask the guy what he was doing down there.”

“Let’s assume he’s not talking. And neither is the mayor. Then who do you ask?”

“Crazy as he might be, I suppose you would ask Falcon.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless they take Falcon out of that hotel room feet first.”

Harry paused, seeming to process what his son was implying. “That’s a very serious accusation, if you’re making it.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “It is.”

“So…are you making it?”

“Do you think it sounds crazy?”

Again, there was silence. Jack thought he was about to get the patented Harry Swyteck lecture again-how the whole world thought there was a “conspiracy” out there. Finally, Harry said, “Let me do some checking. Call me in a couple hours.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“I want to help you.”

“You already have. Just the fact that you’re willing to check into it tells me that I’m onto something. It’s best if I follow up from the inside. Maybe through Paulo. Or maybe even Barber.”

“I think you should pick one or the other.”

“I agree.”

“So which one is it going to be?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll see how it plays out over the next couple of hours and just go with my instincts.”

“Okay. But son?”

“Yeah?”

“Be very careful with this.”

“I will,” he said, then hung up the pay phone.