Second shot, p.17
Second Shot, page 17
“Jimmy…”
“I’m not done.”
A silenced Frisano waited.
“You gave up on us.”
Jimmy McSwain left the restaurant, his heart pounding but his mind somehow free, words he had spoken finally unleashed. Yet conflict raged within him. He knew he’d been brutal, but hadn’t Frisano earned his wrath? But still, there was a job to do, and Jimmy knew that was the point of all of this. Not personal, not professional. Jimmy was motivated by something deeper, a need for vengeance, one that crossed the line of justice.
He hopped onto the C train at Church Street, rattling his way toward Times Square. From there, he caught the 7 train and embarked on a journey into Queens, to Wu-Tin’s neighborhood of Flushing. Sure, he’d been here before, seen the damage done to the warehouse, to Imperial Dragon, and now the fact that another warehouse had been cleared out. Why not a fire? The contents were too valuable. It was a curious turn of events, one Jimmy was interested in exploring.
Except he wouldn’t get the opportunity.
As he turned the corner of Main Street, he smelled acrid smoke. Then he saw the gray plumes filling the sky, and finally the presence of fire. Orange flames chasing after the blue sky, all while charring the ground. Eliminating anything that might have been left behind. Wu-Tin once again dispensing with a property that might have incriminated him. What was he trying to destroy, and why now? Had he felt the heat of his own demise?
Jimmy thought to call Frisano.
Or Barone.
Or worse, Deputy Commissioner Frisano, who was in charge of this rag-tag operation.
Instead, he stood on the street corner and watched the building burn. He saw the Wu-Tin Cookie Supply sign itself going up in flames, the warehouse’s metal walls melting into the fiery flames, all crumbling amidst the smoke. He heard the sirens of fire engines as they approached the site. Was it just the building on fire, or were there victims inside, collateral, or worse? Were they complicit in Wu-Tin’s operation? Were they expendable? Yeah, Jimmy had a feeling there would be victims There always were with this man.
Jimmy stood in place. Watched the firefighters try and control the blaze.
But then he looked across the street, and with an imperious stance while on the second floor deck of an apartment building, that’s where he saw the man in question.
Wu-Tin. Arms crossed, a smile on his face.
Jimmy slipped beneath the building, obstructing Wu-Tin’s angle. He couldn’t see Jimmy. Too proud was he of his destruction. The man’s motives remained uncertain, but whatever they were, he was taking no prisoners. Jimmy, even if he had to work with Frisano, knew this case wouldn’t end until Wu-Tin was introduced to the blind eye of justice. She would certainly open an eye to his crimes.
Jimmy thought about his assignment. He stepped back onto the street, the bait at work.
“Yes, Mr. McSwain, I do see you. You may think you are brave. You are stupid. And,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect. “You burn next.”
Chapter 12
He dreamed of fire. Woke up sweating around four a.m. Knocked off a blanket to try and cool down.
Closed his eyes and doused the flames in his mind.
Next thing he knew it was 6:15, not a waking hour for private detectives, not unless they were just coming home after casing out a joint, or on any all-night stakeout. That hadn’t been the issue, which meant Jimmy was asleep when he heard his phone ring. He hoped to ignore it, but the second ring pierced his brain. The third demanding he answer it. His eyes still closed, he failed to see the caller ID as he grabbed it off the bedside table.
“Who the hell is this?”
Jimmy was not at his most social so early in the morning.
“It’s Brenden.”
“You’re up early.”
“I’m guessing you’re not.”
“I think I’m dreaming. What. Do. You. Want.” Yup, each word its own sentence.
“Baz died overnight.”
He heard the words but they didn’t sink in immediately. Jimmy tossed off the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding the phone, the other rubbing one eye, then the other. An attempt at clarity.
“Say that again?” he said.
“Baz. He had a seizure overnight. There was nothing the doctors could do.”
“Sorry for him,” Jimmy said. “Guess that further complicates the case.”
“Actually, it simplifies it.”
“Because with Rebecca—your mother, by the way—and Baz out of the way, Chaz is a very rich man.”
“Not yet. In a week, on his birthday.”
“Assuming he lives that long.”
“Jimmy, I didn’t call for you to pass judgment. As our lead investigator, I thought this news was important. That you should know the moment I knew.”
“What’s left to investigate? You’re all convinced the man in the coma was Baz.”
There was silence on the other end. “Can we expect to see you at the Portnoy houses later today?”
“Actually, I’m working another case that requires my attention today.”
“Jimmy, we signed a contract. You work for us.”
“I believe the contract says your firm will provide honest and up-to-date details that would aid me in my investigation. As I see it, you’re in violation of said terms. Thus, nullifying all terms of the contract, except I believe I get a kill fee. Ironic name.”
“You’ll get your money.”
“But I don’t get the boy. That’s been nullified, too.”
“What are you saying, Jimmy?”
“That I’m quitting this case. And yeah, I’m quitting you.”
“You realize we can sue you for your own breach of contract. Sleeping with the client.”
“You thought of everything. Always the manipulator.”
“I actually liked you, Jimmy.”
“Yup, keep using the past tense. Have a good morning, Mr. Hendricks. Give my regards to Streb. Oh, before you go, will you give me one honest answer regarding the case?”
“What’s that?
“Who owns that townhouse on Sutton Place?”
“Um, what?”
“I followed you the other night, in the rain. I saw Streb enter. I’m still curious.”
“How did you know…”
“You hired a private detective. Sometimes in my line of business it helps to investigate the client.”
The phone call ended, Brenden signing off without another comment. That was fine, Jimmy had been about to end the call anyway. He’d made his point, perhaps had put in a scare that Brenden couldn’t ignore. Would he go running to Streb? To Chaz? Or maybe to his sister, Amanda. Four of them, all suspects, none of whom in Jimmy’s mind had spoken any truth. Knowing what he and Brenden had done, twice, Jimmy gave up on sleep and headed to the shower. To cleanse his body and his mind, happy to be free of the Portnoy case.
It was one thing for suspects to lie. Another for the client to lie. Never a good thing when they’re one and the same.
The trust was broken. That’s when Jimmy washed his hands of a case. Let the police handle it. Detective Selfridge had all he needed. Even more now, with the death of Baz Portnoy, assuming of course it was really him. Jimmy had a renewed focus. Wu-Tin’s downfall, and with it the added complication of Frank Frisano. He realized he’d just traded one case and one ex for another case and another ex.
Which was supposed to be his focus today, given his meeting with Barone and Frisano.
Jimmy arose, made coffee. The apartment was quiet, it had been a late night. Ma asleep, Joey, too, which meant Meaghan was. As the coffee dripped, he got dressed and was ready to go before seven o’clock. Usually surveillance happened at night, when the shadows played with your shape, hiding it. Daylight lent a certain exposure, but when you worked with criminals, an ambush during the day was considered unexpected. Especially this early.
Jimmy finished his coffee, then headed out, a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a button-down shirt that he left unbuttoned and untucked. His uniform. As it was still September, fall a week away, the temperatures were uncertain. Could be warm, could be cooler. Today, warm won out, and as he dipped down into the subway system, he felt sweat form on his brow. He headed to the 7 train at Times Square, settled once more for the long ride to Flushing. Thankfully, the train wasn’t that crowded; this time of day, most 7 riders were headed into the city.
As soon as the train emerged out of the tunnel and began its climb to the elevated tracks, an alert Jimmy knew he could use his time wisely. Waiting on one case, he could do some research on the other. He wanted his question answered. He opened his phone as the sights of Queens played out before him. He logged onto a newapp he’d found that provided information about ownership of buildings in Manhattan. You paid a fee for the service, but sometimes that fee was worth it. Jimmy wanted to know who owned that townhouse on Sutton Place.
He surfed, he surveyed, he inputted the address from the photograph he’d taken.
It was owned by a corporation. Named STR Industries.
Not exactly helpful, but Jimmy had his suspicions. STR. Representing the first three letters of Streb’s name. Could it be a coincidence, or a sly attempt at hiding in plain sight? No way for Jimmy to know from the app, which meant it required further investigation. A recurring theme on the Portnoy case.
Main Street was coming up, so Jimmy put his phone away and concentrated instead on the case at hand. Wu-Tin was a brutal enemy, his threat from yesterday real. Jimmy would have to watch his back. Did Wu-Tin know if it was only a personal attack from Jimmy, or did he know the NYPD had zeroed in on him? Did it matter? The answer to that wouldn’t really change the mastermind’s approach. Protect himself, destroy his enemies. As he got off the subway, Jimmy reminded himself of Wu-Tin’s ruthlessness.
Jimmy was taking a chance in returning here, hopefully for the last time. Though he didn’t like the finality of that idea.
Look what he’d done to Mallory. Look what he’d attempted to do to Jimmy.
What he’d done to two of his warehouses, to the Imperial Dragon. To his loyal servant, Kenji. A killer, an arsonist, and threatening to put Jimmy through both.
Blood was shed. To Wu-Tin it was just colored water.
Jimmy hit the street, making his way against a wave of people out shopping in these early morning hours. Small but aggressive women pushing their way through the throngs, determined to get fresh vegetables, fish, meat, whatever was on the menu that night. Jimmy appreciated how focused they were, it was their lifeblood. Family, culture, tradition, a way of life. He respected it. Didn’t the McSwains do the same thing? Every Monday was a chance for the family to dine, for them to celebrate where they had come from, where they were going.
Jimmy ignored the bustling woman who pushed against him. She was on a mission.
But so was he.
Wu-Tin’s warehouse was located two blocks away. Jimmy could smell the acrid smoke. Curious to see it after the fire had been doused, it turned out not all was lost. Part of the front had taken the brunt, but clearly the FDNY had made quick work and saved most of the structure. The roof looked gone. Walls on the far end of the building still standing. What it looked like inside was another story. Gaining entry wouldn’t be a problem.
First things first. He waited across the street, assessing the situation. Was Wu-Tin still around, or had he gone to another location? He hoped so. He saw no personnel about. No security, and no police. Neither was welcome for his unexpected exploration of the warehouse. Assuming he gained access, what would he find?
Again, he thought: what was Wu-Tin’s endgame? His greed wouldn’t be easily silenced.
Or burned.
Okay, time to make a move. Jimmy checked his surroundings again, seeing no imminent threat, crossed the street and hopped the metal fence. Thankfully, no twisted wire at the top. An easy climb and he’d made his way into the parking lot. He stole another look around, checking if anyone had seen him. All looked clear. Like he’d thought, no one expected stealth this early.
He didn’t approach the main entrance, instead circling around to the back of the building.
He saw a series of garage doors. Meant for loading those trucks.
Locked, controlled by a keypad. But each had glass windows, a couple of them now melted. Jimmy took a chance and smashed one, cleared it of its shards to avoid injury. He waited, listening for an alarm. None sounded, though it would have been a silent one linked to wherever Wu-Tin’s headquarters were. He’d have to act fast.
Through the window he went, dropping to the floor of the warehouse. What he saw was a wide-open space, devoid of any product. No boxes, no commercial product. He walked around the room, looking for any remnants left on the floor. It had all been carefully cleaned before the fire. Not much damage inside. Which made Jimmy question just what the point was about the fire. Sure, it was Wu-Tin’s method, but if he had nothing to hide here, why set it aflame?
Jimmy found himself at another door, the entrance to an interior office.
It was locked, but his attempt at turning the lock produced other results. He heard a muffled voice.
“Hello?”
“Mmmmmmmm.”
Whoever it was, she couldn’t speak. Probably meant she had been masked, or worse.
Jimmy thrust his foot against the door, met resistance. A second try, then a third had the door buckle. Unlike conventional wisdom, the fourth time was the charm. The wood split, giving Jimmy his first view of an Asian woman sitting in a hardwood chair, tied up and gagged. She was probably twenty-five or so, long dark black hair, pretty beneath that mask. Thing was this: he recognized her. The hostess from the Flushing version of Imperial Dragon. She’d escorted him to his table.
He ran to her, quickly undid the gag, then untied the thick white ropes which had kept her encased in her private prison.
She exhaled, breathed in real air. “Thank you,” she said.
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. When fire hit the restaurant, I was grabbed. Hid somewhere, Brought back here later. Still smelled of smoke.
“That all happened three days ago,” Jimmy said. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave. I’m afraid. Someone probably watching us.”
“You have nothing to fear anymore. I’ll protect you. I’m working with a team that will defeat Mr. Wu-Tin. He will be under arrest soon.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Let’s get you out of here and get you in the hands of the police. Then you’ll tell us all.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Yeah, he tried to kill me. He failed,” Jimmy said. “He’ll fail again.”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s going to kill everyone.”
Jimmy felt a chill hit him. He knew Wu-Tin was dangerous. No, he sounded psychotic.
“What do you mean, everyone?”
“This is why I was tied up. I found out and he wanted to punish me before he killed me, I overheard his plan. His operation in the United States coming to an end, at least for the near future. He plans to eliminate anyone who ever worked for him here. He is planning a big event. Meant to be a celebration. Fireworks.”
“When?”
“That I don’t know.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lena. Lena Tam.”
“Let’s get you out of here. I know people. They’ll stop this. I’ll stop this.”
Once they exited the warehouse, Jimmy brought Lena over to a nearby park bench. She shuddered, remembering her ordeal. Three days locked up, which meant she was probably right. They were being observed. Someone would have had to give her water, a bathroom break. Jimmy wondered why she hadn’t been disposed of like other associates of Wu-Tin. Was it just to torture her? That would have to wait. For now, she was safe, and he would ensure her further safety.
He unlocked his phone. His words were simple, but effective. “I’ve got a lead.”
And then as he heard her scream, he felt a chop to the back of his neck. He crumpled to the ground, felt a kick to his stomach. Air was exhaled, leaving him breathless. Trying to focus on his assailant, he cursed himself for not being more observant. He had been concentrating on Lena and her well-being, disregarding his own.
He saw a booted-foot about to stomp down on his face. He darted, heard the impact as it forcefully hit the ground. That would have hurt. His stomach was still feeling the effects, he didn’t need further injury. The man above, Asian, short but muscular, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. Threw another punch at his stomach. He’d be sore, assuming he survived this onslaught.
He needed an angle, a way to strike a hard blow.
Lena provided him his chance.
He saw a bottle smash down on the man’s head. Glass shattered, blood appeared. The man was stunned enough to release Jimmy, and that’s when he launched his counterattack. A smash to the man’s face sent him reeling back, a leg twisting to make him lose his balance. He hit his head, hard, on the ground. Jimmy dropped a kick to the man’s stomach, heard an audible oof.
Standing above him, panting, sweating, his heart racing, Jimmy could only be glad he’d gotten the best of this guy. He had martial arts training written all over him, he could have done serious damage to Jimmy had it not been for Lena’s fast actions.
“Tell Wu-Tin his days are numbered.”
Jimmy turned, aware of a sound in the distance. A police siren. He noticed a couple people across the street, both having witnessed what happened. Both clinging to cell phones. They had obviously called for help. The local precinct would only add to the complication. Jimmy had to vacate Flushing now.
He spun around, checked his surroundings. Lena still had a piece of string around her wrist from her capture. Turnabout was more than fair play. Soon, Jimmy had the hands of his assailant tied and left him groaning on the ground. The siren was getting closer.
“Come on,” he said to Lena. “Let’s go.”
