Night Fall (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I got back to my apartment a little after 7P.M., and Kate was in the kitchen wearing a tiny teddy while cooking my favorite meal of steak, real French fries, and garlic bread. My clothes, which I’d left on the living room floor, were put away, and there was a Budweiser waiting for me in an ice bucket.

None of that is true, of course, except my arrival time and Kate being home. She was sitting in an armchair reading the
Times
.

I said, “Hello.”

She looked up at me and said, “Hello.”

I threw my blazer on the couch, indicating I was staying, and asked, “So, how was your day?”

“Fine.” She went back to her newspaper.

I said, “I went to the doctor today. I have less than a month to live.”

“Starting when?”

“About noon.”

“I’ll calendar it.”

“Okay, let me say this-I won’t apologize for my behavior last night-”

“You’d better.”

“Okay, I apologize. But you have to apologize for lying to me.”

“I did. About three times.”

“I accept your apology. I understand why you did that. I also think this was a positive experience for us, a growing and affirming event, and a liberating episode in our relationship.”

“You’re a total jerk.”

“What’s your point?”

She said, “Let’s just drop it.”

“Okay. But I want you to know that I love you-that’s why I get upset about you and Ted Nash.”

“John, I think you hate Ted Nash more than you love me.”

“That’s not true. Anyway, what’s new in the world of terrorism?”

“Not much. What did you do today?”

“I took a ride out east.”

She didn’t reply.

I said, “I wasn’t followed, and I left my cell phone and beeper off so I couldn’t be tracked, so that’s why you couldn’t reach me.”

“I wasn’t trying to reach you. But I have a message for you.”

“From who?”

“From Captain Stein. He wants to see you at nineA.M. tomorrow in his office.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

Captain Stein, as I mentioned, is the senior NYPD guy on the Federal Anti-Terrorist Task Force. His command responsibility includes all the active-duty cops, while Jack Koenig, the FBI guy who runs the whole show, is responsible for the FBI agents, such as Kate. As a contract agent, I’m in a gray area, and sometimes I report to Stein, and sometimes to Koenig, and sometimes to both. I’m happiest when I don’t have to see either. I asked Kate, “Why is Stein sending me a message through my wife?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he tried to call you.”

“He could e-mail me, fax me at home, or leave a message on my answering machine or my cell phone. Plus, I have a beeper.”

“Well, maybe because your cell phone and beeper were turned off is why he wants to see you. As you may recall, it’s against department regulations to have both devices turned off at the same time.”

“I do recall that. But I don’t think that’s why he wants to see me.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do you think he’s on to me?”

“They
are on to
us,”
Kate replied. “Jack wants to see me tomorrow at nineA.M.”

I didn’t want to overreact to this news, but it was not a coincidence that Kate and I were being called into the two bosses’ offices at the same time. I asked, “What’s for dinner?”

“Bread and water. Get used to it.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner.”

“I’m too upset to eat.”

“Maybe we should call out for dinner,” I suggested. “Chinese? Pizza?”

“Neither.”

“What’s in the refrigerator?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“I opened a bottle of white wine.”

“Good.” I went into the kitchen. In the refrigerator was a half-finished bottle of white wine and some soda water. I poured Kate a glass of wine and made myself a Scotch and soda.

Truly, the game was up. Less than forty-eight hours since the memorial service. I’d have to remember to congratulate Liam Griffith and shake his hand when I kicked him in the balls.

I went back into the living room, handed Kate her wine, and we clinked glasses. I said, “To us. We gave it a good shot.”

She sipped her wine thoughtfully and said, “We need to get our stories straight.”

“That’s easy. Tell the truth.” I sat in my La-Z-Boy and swiveled toward her. I said, “Screwing up is not a crime, but perjury is a felony. Federal prisons are full of people who lied about something that wasn’t even a crime, or was at most a misdemeanor. Remember the CIA motto-The truth shall set you free.”

“I could lose my job.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was told five years ago not to do anything on this case, except what I was asked to do.”

“So, you forgot. Hey, Griffith told me forty-eight hours ago not to nose around this case.”

“He’s not your boss.”

“Good point. Look, the most that’s going to happen tomorrow is a chewing out, maybe an official reprimand, and a direct order to cease and desist. They don’t want to make a big deal of this because that draws attention to it. I know how these things work. Just don’t get caught in a lie, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded. “You’re right… but it won’t do my career any good.”

“Well, that will be offset by the fact that you’re married to me.”

“This is not a joke. This is important to me. My father was FBI, I worked hard to-”

“Hold on. What happened to truth, justice, and patriotism? When you took that first step over the line, the slope got steep and slippery real fast. What did you think was going to happen?”

She finished her wine and said, “Sorry. Sorry I got you into this.”

“These last two days were fun. Look at me. Nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow. Do you know why? Because
they
have something to hide.
They
are worried. And that’s why you should not worry and not hide anything.”

Kate nodded slowly, then smiled for the first time. She said, “Older men have a good understanding of how the world works.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“I feel much better. Nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow.”

“In fact,” I said, “something good may happen.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. But whatever happens, it’s time for us to put in for annual leave. We need to get away. Foreign travel will be good for us.”

“That’s a great idea. I’d like to go to Paris. Where are you going?”

Mrs. Corey was developing a sense of humor. I said, “I’d like to see where Dewar’s Scotch is made. I’ll send you a postcard.”

She stood, came over to me, and sat in my lap. She put her arms around me and her head on my shoulder and said, “No matter what happens tomorrow, we can handle it because we’re together. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

“You’re not alone.” But as soon as I said that, I had an unsettling thought; if I was Jack Koenig, I knew how I would handle Mr. and Mrs. Corey.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Captain David Stein did not keep me waiting, and at 9A.M. sharp, I walked into his corner office.

He didn’t stand, but he never does unless you’re the police commissioner or higher, and he motioned me to a chair across from his desk. He spoke first and said, in his gruff and gravelly voice, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I couldn’t read anything in his face. I mean, he looked pissed, but he always looks like that.

NYPD Captain David Stein, I should mention, has a difficult job because he has to play second fiddle to FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Jack Koenig. But Stein is a tough old Jew who doesn’t take much crap from anyone, me included, and Jack Koenig in particular.

Stein has a law degree hanging on his wall so he could talk to the FBI in their language when he needed to. He had come to the task force from the NYPD Intelligence Unit, formerly known as the Red Squad, but there weren’t too many Reds around these days so the NYPD IU has shifted its focus to Mideast terrorism. Stein once said to me, “I liked the fucking Communists better. They played the game with a few rules.”

Nostalgia’s not what it used to be.

Anyway, Stein, like me, probably missed the NYPD, but the police commissioner wanted him here, and here he was, about to get up my ass about something. Stein’s problem, like mine, was divided loyalty. We worked for the Feds, but we were cops. I was sure he wasn’t going to be hard on me.

He looked at me and said, “You’re in a world of shit, buddy.”

See?

He continued, “You fuck some boss’s wife or something?”

“Not recently.”

He ignored that and said, “Don’t you even know how you fucked up?”

“No, sir. Do you?”

He lit the stub of a cigar and said to me, “Jack Koenig wants your balls on his pool table. And you don’t know why?”

“Well… I mean, it could be anything. You know how they are.”

He didn’t and wouldn’t respond to that, but it did remind him that we were brothers.

He puffed on his cigar. There hasn’t been smoking allowed in Federal buildings for about five years, but this was not the time to bring this up. Actually, Stein’s ashtray was sitting on a NO SMOKING sign.

He looked at a note on his desk and said to me, “I have word that no one could reach you yesterday, by phone or beeper. Why’s that?”

“I turned off my cell phone and beeper.”

“You’re not supposed to ever turn off your beeper.
Ever
.” He asked me, “What if there was a national alert? Wouldn’t you like to know about it?”

“Yes, I would.”

“So? Why’d you turn your phone and beeper off?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“Make one up.”

“I’ll do better than that. The truth is, I didn’t want to be tracked.”

“Why? You fucking somebody?”

“No.”

“What’d you do yesterday?”

“I went out to the Hamptons.”

“I thought you were sick.”

“I wasn’t sick. I took a day off.”

“Why?”

Remembering my own advice to Kate, I replied, “I’m doing some work on the TWA 800 case. On my own time.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then asked, “What do you mean on your own time?”

“The case interests me.”

“Yeah? What’s so interesting?”

“The bullshit. Bullshit interests me.”

“Yeah, me, too. So, you mean, no one told you to look into this case? It was your idea?”

“I went to the five-year anniversary memorial service on Tuesday. It got me thinking.”

“You go with your wife?”

“I did.”

“And that got you thinking about TWA 800?”

“Right.” I added, “I think there were a few things missed on that case.”

“Yeah? And you’re going to get it straight?”

“I’m trying. On my own time.”

He thought about that awhile, then said to me, “Koenig wouldn’t tell me why you were in deep shit. He told me to ask you. I think this TWA thing is the reason. What do you think?”

“That’s probably it, Captain. They get all weird about that case.”

“Corey, why do you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“I’m a detective.”

“Yeah, I’m a detective, too, sport. But I follow orders.”

“What if they’re not lawful orders?”

“Don’t pull that John Jay shit on me. I’m a lawyer. I have more bullshit in my little finger than you have in your whole fucking body.”

“Yes, sir. What I mean is-”

“Did anyone tell you directly not to poke around that case?”

“Yes, sir. Liam Griffith. At the memorial service. He was there for some reason. But I don’t work for Liam Griffith. Therefore, his order-”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, listen up. I like you, Corey. I really do. But you’ve caused me a lot of problems in the short year you’ve been here. You get away with some shit because, one, you’re a contract agent, two, you were wounded in the line of duty, twice. Three, you did a good job on the Khalil case. And four, and I mean this, you’re good at what you do. Even Koenig likes you. Well, he doesn’t like you, but he respects you. You’re an asset to the team. And so is your wife. People like her, even if they don’t like you.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’re a loose cannon. You’re not doing her career any good. You have to start behaving. Or you have to leave.”

It looked like I was getting off easy, but I smelled something bad and it wasn’t just Stein’s cigar. I said, “Well, if you’re asking for my resignation-”

“Did I say that? I gave you a choice of getting yourself under control or resigning. Is that such a hard decision? Just tell me you’ll be a good boy. Come on. Tell me.”

“Okay… I’ll…” Change the subject. “Captain, I can’t believe they didn’t tell you what this was all about. Maybe I’m confessing to the wrong thing.”

“What else have you done wrong?”

“I play video poker on my government computer.”

“Me, too. You know Chaplain Mike Halloran? You know him, right? The priest.”

“Yeah, he-”

“Here. He taught me something. Look.” Stein raised his hand with the cigar in it and made a little waving motion. “All your sins are forgiven. Go and sin no more.”

And I thought
I
was nuts. I said, “That’s great. Well, then I’ll-”