Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (10 page)

Walking
through that final exit, Archer expected to see Josh, Shepherd or
Marquez but was caught completely off-guard when he saw who was
standing there waiting for him.

It was
Sergeant Jake Hendricks.

*

At six
foot two, over two hundred pounds, dark-featured and tough as two
dollar steak, Jake Hendricks was the hardest cop Sam Archer had
ever met. The man was a walking sledgehammer, his uncompromising
approach legendary in the Department. He was also Matt Shepherd’s
closest friend and ran his own five-person team in the
Counter-Terrorism Bureau, the two squads often working side by
side. Although Archer knew him relatively well, he wasn’t anywhere
near the top of the list of people he’d expected to see just
then.

He knew
Hendricks was intelligent but it was his fearless approach to
police work that had built his reputation. There were many stories
about him that had done the rounds, some no doubt having grown with
the telling, but one Archer knew for a fact to be true was also one
of his favourites. A few years back a gang from Cypress Hills had
plotted to kill Hendricks after he’d come down on them hard shortly
after being transferred there; he’d made their lives a misery and
they’d decided it was time for some payback. Two of the gang
members had found out where he lived and waited one night to waylay
him, but when Hendricks had arrived home things hadn’t exactly gone
as they’d planned. The incident had taken place a couple of years
ago but apparently the two gang members had only recently started
eating solid food again. Hendricks wasn’t a man to cross and
definitely someone you didn’t want as an enemy.

Dressed
in jeans, a dark sweater, boots and a leather jacket concealing his
badge and weapon, Hendricks nodded at Archer as he appeared then
turned and led the way out of the building without saying a word.
Surprised, Archer followed the dark-haired Sergeant outside and
over to a Counter-Terrorism Bureau Ford; Hendricks climbed in
behind the wheel as Archer got into the passenger seat beside him.
Hendricks fired the engine and they took off out of the compound,
being buzzed out through the exit and heading towards the only
bridge off the island which led into Queens.

Now he
was out of there, Archer finally felt relief wash over him; against
all the odds, he’d made it out alive, but only just. As he sat
there he started to feel sick and cold, his nervous system exacting
payback for the adrenaline spike that had helped save his life in
the shower block twenty minutes ago.

Leaning
back in the Ford’s passenger seat, he felt blood running from the
wound under his sweater. Reaching under the garment and the t-shirt
underneath, he pressed his hand to his chest and withdrew it.
Hendricks glanced over, both men seeing it was red with
blood.

‘
You’re hurt?’ Hendricks asked.

‘
I made some friends in there.’

‘
Is it deep?’

Archer
shook his head, remembering how he’d turned at the last second from
that final shiv thrust which had saved his life. ‘Could have been a
lot worse.’

Keeping
his left hand on the wheel, Hendricks reached under his seat and
tossed Archer a small first-aid kit. ‘Fix yourself up. And don’t
bleed in my car.’

Seems to be a recurring theme tonight,
Archer thought as he caught the box. Resting the kit on his
lap he opened it up, taking out some antiseptic spray and a pack of
wipes. Pulling off his sweater, he shook the canister then pushed
it under his t-shirt and sprayed the cut on his chest then the one
on his arm, both wounds still bleeding sluggishly. He found some
gauze and tape in the box, which he stuck over the cut on his arm,
then pulled out a large rectangular bandage and strapped it over
the cut on his chest, the whole process taking less than a
minute.

His
effort at first-aid completed, he closed the box, placed it in the
foot-well and sat back in his seat, closing his eyes and taking a
long deep breath, his sweater resting on his lap.

‘
Talk about a weekend to remember,’ he said. ‘Jesus
Christ.’

‘
How the hell did you end up in there?’ Hendricks replied.
‘Tell me what happened.’

‘
I got picked up two nights ago for visiting a victim’s mother
in the East Village. They held me at the 13
^th
for a day then transferred me
up here last night, saying there wasn’t enough room at the Precinct
or some bullshit like that. I was in my SHU cell all day but got
taken out at dusk for rec time and 6pm was showers. Five minutes in
the yard and a couple of minutes into the shower was all it took.
Three Latinos jumped me.’

‘
The guards?’

‘
Pulled next door by something else. I think it was planned. A
diversion.’

Hendricks swore quietly as Archer eased his sweater back over
his torso, adjusting it awkwardly under his seatbelt, trying not to
dislodge his bandages.

‘
That place can be a real shit-show,’ Hendricks said. ‘You
wouldn’t be the first suspended cop to die in there.’

‘
Thanks for getting me out. How’d you know I was
inside?’

‘
Because I know Lieutenant Royston. He was a sergeant in the
same Precinct as me years ago when Shep and I first started out in
a squad car. He’s always been an asshole.’

As he
spoke Hendricks moved off the Bridge into Queens, keeping his eyes
on the road.

‘
Two years before I joined the Department, he was accused of
rape but beat the charges on a technicality. When we worked at the
same Precinct he had two complaints of sexual harassment lodged
against him but again he got away with it; he’s a vicious bully.
After I heard you punched him, I knew he’d drop you in more shit
the first chance he had. Getting you suspended wouldn’t be enough
for him.’

‘
So locking me up in there was the answer?’

‘
He’s done it before. Years back, there was a guy who got
aggressive with him. Royston had made advances to his girlfriend at
a bar during another guy’s retirement bash. The officer was pissed
and rightly so, so he called Royston out on it in front of half the
Precinct. The next day, the poor bastard was conveniently arrested
on some bullshit weapons license charge and locked up in Rikers for
the weekend due to
over-crowding
, just like you.
However, they didn’t put him in the SHU block; he was jammed in
General Population.’

‘
What happened to him?’

‘
Sure you can figure it out, but let’s just say two nights can
be one hell of a long time in a place like that. The guy made it
the full two days but he was never the same afterwards. Couple of
years later he killed himself.’

Archer
felt the cuts on his chest and arm burn from the antiseptic. ‘All
things considered, I got off lightly then.’

‘
Shep called saying you hadn’t been in contact and had dropped
off the radar, so I decided to check the prison admission logs
during the past forty eight hours and bingo, there you
were.’

Archer
shook his head. ‘That son of a bitch.’

Hendricks paused for a moment, the car continuing on its
journey through Queens. ‘What did Karen Casey say when you visited?
Anything that wasn’t in the file?’

Archer
looked at him, surprised. Hendricks ran his own team in the Bureau
and hadn’t been working with Shepherd on the shooting. ‘You’re
familiar with the case, sir?’

Hendricks nodded. ‘Shep briefed me. Once he told me what was
going on, I asked to see the files.’

‘
We tried that; Homicide wouldn’t co-operate. I had to call in
a favour to see them.’

‘
I’ve got a couple friends over there.’

Pulling
out a brown folder from the well by his seat, he tossed it onto
Archer’s lap.

‘
The deceased was Leann Vanessa Casey. Nineteen years old at
the time of death, unmarried and no partner, born in Johnstown,
Pennsylvania to Karen and Marcus Casey. Was arrested in February on
the Upper West Side for nothing since. No idea who she’s working
for or where she’s been except apart from a three-month stint here
at Rikers and record of her at Covenant Housing; apparently she was
being treated for addiction to pain killers. Did four weeks in
rehab out on Long Island and was released four hours before she was
shot and killed.’

As
Archer scanned the girl’s meagre police file again, getting
reacquainted with the case, Hendricks pulled up at a red
light.

‘
Maybe she wasn’t working for anyone else; just herself,’
Archer said, turning the page and looking at the case notes again.
‘With the internet, who says a prostitute needs a pimp
nowadays?’

‘
That’s very possible.’

Archer
turned the page, seeing the girl lying in the car park, her keys
and bag beside her and numbered with small tags by CSU.

‘
The Chevy was hers, all the documents checking out in her
name. The bag she was carrying just contained a few spare clothes.
Investigative team at the scene found several thousand dollars
tucked into her clothing.’

He
glanced at Archer.

‘
Her savings, perhaps.’

Archer
nodded, turning the page, and looked at the mug-shots of the two
perpetrators.

‘
The 114
^th
settled on two suspects, pimps from another gang.
Both were found dead from gunshot wounds this past Thursday,
Carvalho shooting Valdez then wasting himself with the gun that
killed Leann Casey. Convenient, right?’

‘
Exactly,’ Archer said quietly.

‘
Doesn’t exactly match up with the behaviour of a man who shot
a young woman without hesitation three times and dropped two police
detectives,’ Hendricks continued. ‘But aside from Valdez’
girlfriend, no other sets of prints were found at the location and
she was doing thirty days for a DUI at the time of death. Homicide
asked around but no-one in the building saw anyone in the vicinity
of the apartment at the time of the shooting other than the two
men. That meant it was case closed, investigation complete. All
that was missing was a ribbon on top and a
thank you
card.’

There
was a pause.

‘
So what’s your view?’ Hendricks finished, looking at
Archer.

‘
The gun was the same that killed Leann Casey. They both had
the same build as the two assholes who jumped us. It ticks every
box; guys like this have done far dumber things.’

‘
But?’

Archer
pointed at Carvalho’s mug-shot, the heavier-set of the two, the man
who’d killed Valdez then shot himself. ‘The eyes are the giveaway.
When I was waiting for him to finish us off, I stared into the
killer’s eyes. This isn’t the same man.’

Hendricks looked at him for a long moment.

‘
What happened to the van from that night?’ he
asked.

‘
Pulled over four hours later in Harlem,’ Archer replied.
‘Officers arrested the driver, a guy two weeks out of the joint for
stealing cars. He had priors, but he wasn’t the killer. He had an
alibi. He’d been seeing his PO downtown at the time of the
shooting.’

‘
How’d he get the keys?’

‘
Said he found the van on the corner of
144
^th
and 2
^nd
and they were still in the ignition. He stole it and called a
chop shop in Queens who said they’d give him eight hundred bucks
for it. He was driving it over there when he was pulled over. The
plate had gone out to every cop in the city and a passing squad car
tagged it.’

‘
What about street CCTV? Cameras must have picked up the two
suspects leaving the vehicle.’

‘
Both figures were in dark clothing. They knew what they were
doing. A bus stopped off on the near side of the street and
obscured the shot for a good thirty seconds. When it pulled away
again, both of them were gone.’

‘
The man who shot you, what was he wearing?’

‘
Jeans, jacket, hockey mask. Gun was a Steyr.’

‘
His manner?’

‘
Hard as hell. He took out the girl without any hesitation; it
was only when he saw our cop vests that he lost his cool. Even then
he was going to kill us but the driver was freaking out and stopped
him.’

‘
You heard them talk?’

Archer
nodded.

‘
Accents?’

‘
Nothing I picked up on.’

‘
Anything else you can remember?’

Archer
closed his eyes, recalling what he saw. ‘That’s it.’

Hendricks thought for a moment, the hum of the car’s engine
filling the silence, the vehicle driving on through the dark web of
streets.

‘
You know my wife was shot once too,’ he said. ‘Three years
ago.’

Archer
glanced at him. ‘I didn’t.’

‘
After I tuned up a couple of gangbangers who tried to welcome
me home one night, three of their boys came to our house a few days
later to kill her as revenge. Fortunately they were sloppy and
thought she’d be an easy mark. She fired back but took two to the
leg; almost died. So I know where your head’s at. And you’re right;
something about this is way, way off.’