Night Fall

“I’m sure he will. But I’ll know for sure afterI question the couple. Do you have a pen and paper on you?”

“You maynot speak to them.”

“Why not? Did they meet with an unfortunate accident?”

“Don’t be melodramatic. You can’t speak to them because we promised them anonymity for all time in exchange for their cooperation and truthfulness.”

“Okay, I’ll do the same.”

Ted Nash seemed to be thinking, probably about his instructions regarding yours truly. I said to him, “This is real simple, Ted. You tell me their names, I meet them, I talk to them, and we resolve this once and for all. What’s the problem?”

“I’ll need to get clearance to do that.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow on my cell phone. Leave a message.”

“I might need until Monday.”

“Then let’s meet Monday.”

“I’ll let you know.” He reached in the top pocket of his windbreaker for his cigarettes, then realizing they were wet, decided not to have a smoke.

I said, “That’s why you got winded. Smoking can kill you.”

“How’s your jaw feel?”

“Fine. I soaked it in salt water along with your head.”

“My knee in your balls didn’t seem to hit anything.”

Ted was pretty good, but I’m better. I said, “I think it was your wet panty shield that weighed you down.”

“Fuck you.”

This was fun, but not productive. I changed the subject and said, “Call me, and we’ll arrange a meeting-in a public place this time. I pick. Bring company if you’d like. But I want the names of this couple before we even say hello.”

He looked at me and said, “Be prepared to answer some questions yourself, or the only thing you’ll get out of that meeting is a federal subpoena.” He added, “You don’t have the power you think you have, Corey. We have nothing to hide because there is nothing more to this than what I’ve just told you. And I’ll tell you something you should have already figured out-if therewas something to hide, you’d already be dead.”

“You’re threatening me again. Let me tellyou something-no matter how this case ends, you and I are going to meet so we can get your death thing straightened out.”

“I look forward to such a meeting.”

“Not as much as I do.” He put out his hand again, but we weren’t close enough to shake, so I guessed he wanted his gun back. I said, “You just threatened to kill me-and now you want me to give you your gun back? What am I missing here?”

“I told you-if I’d needed to kill you, you’d already be dead. But since obviously you believe what I just told you, I don’t need to kill you. But I do need my gun back.”

“Okay, but you promise not to point it at me and make me tell you what I know about this case?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Give me my fucking gun.”

I pulled the Glock out of my waistband and dropped it in the sand. I kept the loaded magazine. I said, “Next time we meet, you won’t have to fake your death.” I turned and walked away.

He called out, “When you meet Kate at the airport, don’t forget to tell her I’m alive, and I’ll call her soon.”

Ted Nash needed for me to kill him right now, but I wanted something to look forward to.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I was much less paranoid now that I discovered there reallywere people following me, and wanting to kill me. This was a big relief.

I went back to the Bayview Hotel, showered the salty water and muck off, and changed into my travel attire, then checked out.

I was now on the Long Island Expressway, driving my rental Ford Taurus, and it was 10:05 on Saturday night. I had a local FM station on, cranking out some Billy Joel and Harry Chapin, who the manic DJ kept informing his listening audience were Long Island boys. So were Joey Buttafucco and the serial killer Joel Rifkin, but the DJ didn’t mention this.

Traffic was moderate to heavy, and I made a few erratic moves to see if I was being followed, but all Long Island Expressway drivers are nuts, and I couldn’t tell if I had a trained Federal agent on my tail, or just a typical Long Island loony.

I exited and re-entered the Expressway to satisfy myself that no one was following. Acting on some residue of paranoia, I looked up through the sunroof for the fabled Black Helicopter that the Organs of State Security use in America to watch its citizens, but there was nothing up there except the moon and the stars.

I turned on my cell phone for five minutes, but there were no messages.

I gave a little thought to my meeting and wrestling match with Mr. Ted Nash. The guy was as obnoxious and arrogant as ever, and being dead for a while hadn’t done him a bit of good. The next time, I’ll do it myself and attend the funeral. But in the meantime, he was back on my case, trying to thwart my noble efforts to achieve truth and justice, and my less noble efforts to stick it up some people’s asses while I was at it.

My jaw was still aching, and a quick look in the mirror at the Bayview Hotel had revealed a patch of missing skin and a black-and-blue mark ru

In my twenty years with the NYPD, I’d had to kill only two men, both of them in self-defense. My personal and professional relationship with Ted Nash was more complex than my hasty relationship with the two total strangers I’d had to shoot, and therefore my reasons and justification for killing Ted had to be more closely examined.

The rumble on the beach should have been cathartic for both of us, but in truth, neither of us was satisfied, and we needed a rematch.

On the other hand, as Kate would say, we were both Federal agents, trying to do the same job for our country, so we should try to understand the animus that drove us toward mutually destructive acts of verbal abuse and physical violence. We should talk out our differences and recognize that we had similar goals and aspirations, and even similar personalities, which should be a source of unity, rather than a source of conflict. We needed to acknowledge the anguish we were causing each other, and to work in a constructive and honest way to understand the feelings of the other person.

Or, to keep it short and simple, I should have drowned the son-of-a-bitch like a rat, or at least shot him with his own gun.

A sign informed me that I was entering Nassau County, and the lunatic DJ a

Fuck you.

Regarding Mr. Nash’s revelations to me, he had a very good story, and he might be telling the truth: There was no rocket on that videotape. This was good, if it was true. I’d be very satisfied to believe it was an accident. I would be very pissed to find out it wasn’t.

I had maybe one card left to play in this game, and it was Jill Winslow-but for all I knew, the right Jill Winslow was not the one in Old Brookville, where I was now headed. The right Jill Winslow might be dead, along with her lover. And if I kept snooping around, I, too, could be dead, even if there was no cover-up and conspiracy-I think Ted Nash just wanted me dead, and after tonight, his bosses would give him the go-ahead.

I got off the Expressway and headed north on Cedar Swamp Road. I saw no cedars, and I saw no swamps, which was good. I get nervous whenever I have to leave Manhattan, but after Yemen, I could vacation in New Jersey.