Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (35 page)

There
was no sign of the cop or the woman.

Rolling
out low from behind the bathroom door, still deaf from the blast,
Archer shot the guy in the chest with his home defence pistol,
hitting him twice and watching as the man dropped to the floor,
joining his three friends.

Bleeding, smoke-covered, his clothing partially torn and with
his hearing severely affected, Archer staggered to his feet, four
bodies laid out in his apartment around him, part of the floor
destroyed and sections on fire. Moving forward, he knelt down by
the first guy he’d shot and patted him down, pulling out his wallet
quickly, wanting to check his ID the moment they got out of
here.

Ready to
leave, he turned and saw April had staggered out of the bathroom,
bleeding from her temple.

‘
You OK?’ he asked her.

She
nodded, still half-deaf and only guessing what he’d said, giving
him a thumbs up but still badly disorientated. Taking hold of her,
Archer half-carried her out of the apartment while keeping his
pistol up in front of him as they made their way down the
steps.

Their
ears ringing, the pair bloodied and covered with dust and smoke,
they reached the ground floor and moved to the entrance, the front
door ajar. Easing it back an inch, Archer used the fob to unlock
the Ford from where he stood, the lights flashing.

He
looked down at April.

‘
Ready?’ he asked her quickly.

She
nodded.

A moment
later he ripped open the door and they began to run.

FORTY TWO

Inside
the back office of the club on Brighton Beach, Shepherd was
studying CCTV footage from the club’s security system. Next door,
medical teams had just arrived and checked the three bodies but
there was nothing they could do, all three men dead from gunshot
wounds, one to the neck and the other two to the head. The
shootings had taken place when the NYPD were in the club, yet none
of them had heard a thing.

Back-up
officers were outside scouring the crowds whilst Shepherd and
Hendricks were focused on finding Bashev, who according to the
bar-staff had last been seen heading back to his office before the
shooting happened. Watching the playback, Shepherd’s attention was
drawn to sudden movement recorded by the camera covering the back
of the club.

As he
leaned closer and watched the action unfold, Hendricks and Massaro
suddenly reappeared from a door leading from a cellar, accompanied
by a male and female member of Hendricks’ team.

‘
I’m guessing he went this way,’ he said. ‘Son of a bitch. We
must have just missed him.’

‘
But he didn’t get far,’ Shepherd said, pointing at the monitor
he’d been studying and resetting the recording back a few minutes.
‘Check it out.’

The five
detectives watched, seeing a burly figure carrying a briefcase
moving rapidly towards a car, pulling out his keys and unlocking
the doors, tossing the case inside.

However,
before he had a chance to get into the car, he was suddenly
pistol-whipped from behind, two men appearing from out of the
frame.

‘
Son of a bitch,’ Massaro muttered.

The
group watched in silence as Henderson pinned Bashev to the ground,
holding something over his face. Tully ripped open the side of a
van and both men dumped the now limp Russian inside. They saw
Henderson retrieve the briefcase from the car then a silenced
pistol from the sidewalk before pulling off his coat, tossing it
into the van and jumping inside, the vehicle taking off a moment
later and disappearing out of frame.

‘
Bet he’s wishing he’d stayed around for us right about now,’
Hendricks said.

Shepherd
nodded, pulling his cell to pass on the plates to Ethan. ‘They
killed the last of the gang here, right under our goddamn noses.
And with Bashev gone, that’s every member of his gang wiped
out.’

‘
So what’s driving this?’ one of Hendricks’s team asked,
looking at the screen. ‘Are Henderson and Tully looking to move in
on the turf down here?’

‘
Just two of them?’ Massaro replied. ‘They wouldn’t last five
minutes.’

‘
Plus they must have known they were on camera when they took
Bashev but for some reason they didn’t give a shit,’ Hendricks
said, tapping the screen.

‘
They know we’ll have them from when they went for April and
Archer in the bar and Park,’ Shepherd said. ‘They must be bailing.
With three more
Prizraki
dead and taking Bashev with them, I’m guessing
they’ve done what they wanted to do.’

‘
But without that escort?’ Massaro said. ‘After all that effort
you told me about to track her down?’

Shepherd
looked at the detective. Then, cursing himself at letting her leave
the Bureau, he ended his call to Ethan before it could connect and
quickly dialled Archer instead.

‘
No-one else dies tonight,’ he said. ‘No-one. Not on my
watch.’

Eight
miles north, Archer was burning his way through to the
Queensborough Bridge, the fender lights on the car flashing as he
headed for the safe-house. Turning a hard right, April holding onto
her seat as the car slid around the corner, he reached into his
pocket and pulled out the wallet he’d taken, tossing it to
her.

‘
Who is he?’ he asked.

‘
Raul Ortega,’ she said after a moment, reading from his
driver’s license. ‘Born in Juarez, Mexico. Thirty three years old.
I don’t understand? Did Henderson and Tully hire them to kill
you?’

Archer
shook his head.

‘
He had the same gang ink as some of the guys in Rikers. They
must have been sent to take me out. Probably as
payback.’

As they
raced on towards the Bridge, Archer saw queuing traffic up ahead
and was forced to slow, checking his rear view mirror for anyone
chasing him down. Just then, the intercom inside the car that had
synced with Archer’s phone started to ring; glancing at the screen,
he saw it was Shepherd.

‘
How the hell did they know where your apartment was?’ April
asked, looking at him.

Archer
glanced at her as he pushed the button to answer Shepherd; she had
a point.

But
instead of replying, he grabbed the back of her jacket and suddenly
pulled her down a second before her window exploded.

Walking
out of the nightclub with Hendricks whose team were handling the
scene along with CSU, Shepherd looked down at his phone and
frowned. Archer wasn’t picking up. He glanced at Hendricks beside
him but saw his focus was elsewhere, his eyes narrowed.

Following his gaze, Shepherd saw four officers walking towards
them, having just climbed out of two squad cars that had pulled up.
He also saw they had their holsters unclipped, their right hands
lingering near their weapons. Thinking back four weeks, Shepherd
recalled seeing the same officers at the
114
^th
;
some of Royston’s men.

‘
No need for that,’ Hendricks said. ‘The action’s
over.’

‘
You’re right,’ one of them said, looking at Shepherd as he
spoke. ‘It is. For you.’

‘
Excuse me?’

‘
You’re under arrest.’

‘
What?’ Shepherd said.

‘
Apparently you assaulted Lieutenant Royston; you’re coming
with us, sir.’

Shepherd
thought back to when he’d slammed the piece of paper and pen into
the Lieutenant’s chest. He shot a glance at Hendricks, then focused
on the men standing in front of him.

‘
Are you kidding me?’

‘
No, we’re not. You assaulted a superior. We’ve been ordered to
bring you in.’

‘
He’s not going anywhere,’ Hendricks said.

‘
Yes, he is. Right now, he’s under arrest.’

The two
sergeants and four officers stood facing each other, the body
language of Royston’s men confident, fed by the knowledge they were
acting under the orders of a superior officer. As they faced each
other, Hendricks’ hand casually slid towards his holster in case
they suddenly decided to pull their weapons as extra
persuasion.

Stepping
forward, the lead officer took out his hand-cuffs. ‘Don’t make this
any harder than it has to be.’

‘
Try and put those on him and you’ll be heading for the ER,’
Hendricks replied.

The
words were said quietly but with absolute conviction. The officers
all hesitated, but only briefly, the fact they were four against
two giving them false confidence.

And then
they made their move.

Two of
them went to grab hold of Shepherd, but seconds later were lying on
the ground, one with a busted nose, the other stunned after taking
an elbow to the side of the head. The other two went to draw their
guns but Hendricks stepped forward and hammered a punch into one
man’s gut, doubling him over.

The last
officer managed to pull his sidearm but Hendricks caught his arm. A
beat later the officer took a straight right to the face and fell
back to the concrete, joining his three companions. As they stood
over the four men, the fight over almost before it had begun,
Shepherd’s cell rang and he answered immediately.

‘
Arch?’

‘
No sir, it’s me,’
Ethan said.
‘But it’s to do with Archer.
Teams of officers have been dispatched to
38
^th
Street in Astoria. There’ve been reports of multiple gunshots
and an explosion.’

‘
What? That’s Archer’s street.’

‘
Apparently a police car left the scene shortly after the
reports of a disturbance were called in. A blond man driving,
accompanied by a woman.’

‘
But Henderson and Tully were here.’

‘
There are four dead gang members at Archer’s apartment. All
Latino’s, with gang colours and ink.’

Shepherd
swore and ran towards his car.

‘
It’s probably the same crew who tried to drop him in Rikers,’
Shepherd said, looking at Hendricks who was keeping pace with him.
‘He’ll be going for the safe-house. Give me the address,
Ethan.’

‘
It’s in the West Village, sir,’
Ethan
said, handing over the specifics.

Hanging
up, Shepherd pulled open his door and jumped behind the
wheel.

‘
We need to get over to the Village. Archer and the girl got
jumped by some gang members at his apartment. He’s in deep
shit.’

‘
Now there’s a surprise,’ Hendricks replied, climbing into the
passenger seat as Shepherd fired the engine and took off down the
street.

On the Queensborough, one of the Latinos who’d been late
getting to 38
^th
Street and seen the cop drive off with the woman
caught up with Archer’s car and fired again, blasting off a wing
mirror and shattering the remaining glass. As the guy racked the
pump, Archer fired twice over April’s back, hitting the driver in
the shoulder and knocking him backwards, pulling ahead as his
attackers’ car started to swerve.

Flooring
it, Archer swung the wheel round and headed straight into the
oncoming traffic, speeding past the cars that had been stopped by
the roadblock. Glancing in the rear-view mirror he saw two cars
peeling off and give chase, but focused his attention on the road
ahead, dodging the oncoming traffic, car horns blaring as the
police car missed them by inches.

‘
You OK?’
he asked April, who’d sat
back up in her seat, gripping onto her door for support, wind
whipping her hair round her face from her broken window.

‘
I think so!’

As
Archer continued to weave his way through the traffic, he tried to
call Shepherd back on the car’s system, but it was fried, having
been hit by the shotgun blast which had annihilated April’s
window.

Then his
cell started ringing. He went to answer but had to duck as they
took more fire from the car behind.

Forgetting the call for the moment, he focused on his
driving, fighting to keep ahead of the two cars now right on his
tail.

In
Little Odessa, Marquez and Massaro walked out of the nightclub just
in time to see Shepherd and Hendricks taking off in one of the
Bureau’s Fords, the 4x4 heading into Brooklyn. They were surprised
to see three cops getting to their feet beside their squad cars,
all looking the worse for wear, a fourth leaning against the side
of the vehicle.

‘
What the hell happened?’ she asked the guy leaning against the
car as she and Massaro walked over.

Ignoring
her, he pressed down a button on his radio receiver.

‘
This is Spilner. He resisted arrest, sir,’ he reported,
turning his head to spit blood onto the concrete street. ‘Both he
and Sergeant Hendricks assaulted us and drove off.’

‘
Where were they headed?’

‘
North. We should be able to tag their plates on the
CCTV.’