Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (7 page)

Karen
didn’t reply.

‘
One of them has gone missing and we’re trying to find him. His
name’s Sam Archer.’

‘
The blond guy?’

‘
That’s him. He came to see you?’

‘
He did; two days ago. Friday night.’

‘
What did you talk about?’ Josh asked.

She took
a breath. ‘Leann. He told me he was there when she died. All you
other people that showed up talked about her like she was an
inconvenience, just because of what she did for a living. But he
seemed different; more respectful. I liked him.’

‘
How did he appear? Angry? Upset?’

‘
More curious than anything. Like you, he said he wanted to
make sure they got the right guys but I didn’t take that too
seriously. I knew they had but his girlfriend got shot and I felt
bad for him, so I was happy to talk for a while.’

‘
How long did you talk for?’ Josh asked.

‘
Twenty minutes or so. Maybe thirty. Then he left.’

‘
Do you know where he went next?’

‘
No idea. I stayed up here.’

‘
His car’s been parked on this street for the past two days
collecting tickets.’

She
shrugged. ‘Can’t help you, I’m afraid. But you’re taking another
look at Leann’s case?’

‘
Yes,’ Marquez said. ‘Just a precaution.’

‘
Why? Do you have other leads?’

‘
Just one.’

‘
Which is?’

‘
Archer was going around asking the same kind of questions we
are. And he hasn’t been seen in over two days.’

The
comment lingered in the air. Karen nodded.

‘
Well, I hope you find him,’ she said. ‘I mean that. He seemed
like a nice guy. I liked him. A lot more than I liked the rest of
you.’

A beat
later the door was closed in their faces again, leaving Marquez and
Josh staring at the wood.

Not far
south on the Lower East Side, just twenty four hours after he’d
been released from a twenty one day stretch in prison, a thirty two
year old pimp called Alex Santiago was lying on the floor of his
two-man apartment, his eyes bulging in terror as he watched two
figures in white overalls and black gas masks pour a translucent
chemical liquid into his bath-tub.

Santiago
ran six escorts for his employer, including Kelly Greer and Cece
Mills, and had always enjoyed enforcing a certain level of
discipline on the girls, ensuring he received the right amount of
fear and respect in return. However, right then the tables had been
turned; he had a strip of duct tape over his mouth, more wrapped
around his ankles, and his wrists were bound behind his back with
zip-ties. Gagged and bound, he tried to shout but any noise he made
was reduced to a murmur by the duct tape and masked by the sound of
splashing as the bath was being drawn.

Sucking
air in through his nose, his mouth covered by the tape, his eyes
started to water from the acrid chemical smell.

He’d
quickly realised the liquid in the tub wasn’t water.

Behind
Santiago, the front door opened, and a figure in white overalls and
a gas mask eased himself back through the door into the apartment,
carrying another cylindrical can which he passed to one of the two
others filling the bath.

‘
How we doing?
’ he asked, his voice
sounding disembodied from behind the mask.

‘
With this, it’ll be ready,
’ one of
the others said, a woman judging by her voice, as the third person
poured the last canister into the tub.

‘
Clock’s ticking,’
he said.
‘Both of you, go downtown and get the last girl
then bring her back here.’

He
looked over at Santiago.

‘
I’ll get started on this one.’

Nodding,
the pair walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.
Now alone with Santiago, the large figure walked over and stared
down at the bound man on the floor, whose eyes widened with terror
as they stared back up at him.

‘
Bath time, Alex,’
he said.

A beat
later the man knelt down, settling his heavy weight on Santiago’s
torso and placing his large hands around the pimp’s
throat.

Then he
started throttling him, Santiago’s face turning crimson as he
suffocated, the last thing he saw before he died being a gas mask
with a pair of dark emotionless eyes looking down at
him.

SEVEN

Walking
out of Karen Casey’s apartment building, Josh and Marquez stopped
side by side on the porch step, taking in the scene around them as
if it might offer up some clues as to where Archer could have
gone.

Vehicles
were parked along the street but there were several free spaces
available, one of which would have been occupied by Archer’s car
just several hours ago. Aside from traffic moving along the Avenue,
the only movement on the block was the occasional pedestrian and
three small girls playing with a skipping rope on the sidewalk
opposite.

‘
Well that was a wasted trip,’ Josh said.

‘
Maybe not,’ Marquez said, looking down the street at the
intersection, the way they’d come and the route which Archer would
probably have taken. She pulled her cell and went to call the
Bureau; there were cameras covering each road down there. If Ethan
could pick up the car, he might also be able to track Archer after
his chat with Karen Casey and figure out where he went next and why
he left his car behind.

However,
as she brought up Ethan’s number she paused, looking over at the
group of young girls engrossed in their skipping game across the
street. Putting the phone back in her pocket for the moment, she
moved down the steps and crossed the road.

‘
Hi girls; can I talk to you for a second?’

She
showed them her badge as she spoke and their game came to an abrupt
halt, the three of them looking scared.

‘
We didn’t do anything,’ one of the girls said.

Marquez
smiled. ‘I know. Actually, I need your help on something. It’s very
important. Do you live here?’

The two
holding the rope looked at each other and nodded. ‘We do. She lives
down the street.’

‘
OK. Now think hard. Were you here on Friday night?’

Before
they could answer, the door to the building behind them opened and
a woman walked out, presumably the mother of the two
girls.

‘
Can I help you?’ she asked sharply.

Marquez
nodded, showing her badge to the woman. ‘You live here?’

Seeing
the badge the woman softened slightly and nodded, jerking her thumb
over her shoulder at the ground floor apartment facing the street.
‘In there.’

‘
Were you around on Friday night?’

‘
Sure was.’

As Josh
joined her, Marquez pointed across the street. ‘A colleague of ours
was last seen inside that apartment building on Friday evening,
around 7:30pm. He’s a blond guy, late twenties, good looking. Did
you see him?’

‘
Yeah, I saw him. Hard to miss, right?’

‘
Did you see him arrive or leave?’

‘
Leave. I felt pretty bad for him, nice-looking guy like
that.’

‘
What do you mean?’ Josh asked.

‘
I’d just called the kids in and saw two police cars pull up;
four cops stepped out. They stood around for a moment, like they
were waiting for someone. A minute or so later, your guy walked
out.’

‘
Did they talk?’ Josh asked.

‘
Not exactly. They slammed him against one of the vehicles and
put him in handcuffs.’

Marquez
turned to look at Josh beside her, her eyes widening as realisation
dawned.

‘
He wasn’t too happy about it,’ the woman continued. ‘They put
him inside one of the cars. Then they drove off.’

Three
miles south on Delancey Street in the Lower East Side, a beautiful
red-headed twenty year old escort called April Evans walked rapidly
towards her apartment building, Cece’s scream so abruptly cut off
fifteen minutes earlier still echoing in her ears. Rounding the
corner and moving fast, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t
being followed, April reached her apartment building with
relief.

Letting
herself in and closing the door, she took some deep breaths, trying
desperately to steady her thoughts and think clearly. Turning to
look through the glass, she couldn’t see anything unusual, just
some passing pedestrians, several cars and a white van parked
outside.

She started to climb the stairs, even her slight weight
causing the old wood to creak as she made her way up. Arriving on
the 3
^rd
floor, she cautiously peered each way down the corridor,
making sure it was empty. Satisfied, she walked towards her
apartment and reached into her bag for the key, wanting to get
inside quickly.

Then she
suddenly paused and looked down the empty corridor.

She
could have sworn she heard the stairs creak.

She
stayed where she was, her key in her hand, listening. The apartment
building was quiet. She waited a few moments but still couldn’t
hear anything.

It must
have been her imagination.

But as
she was about to insert the key in the lock, she spotted something
else.

Resting
on the floor by her feet.

The East Village 13
^th
Precinct was on
21
^st
Street, just around the corner from Karen Casey’s place, so
Josh and Marquez were there in ninety seconds or so. They’d already
entered the building and were now confronting the desk sergeant,
who although being co-operative was struggling to understand what
they were saying.

‘
Just hold on,’ he said. ‘Start again. What’s
wrong?’

‘
A member of our team was arrested two nights ago by officers
from this Precinct. We want him released right now.’

‘
I just told you I don’t work nights. Let me check the system.’
Tapping some keys, he clicked into the computer. ‘What’s his
name?’

‘
Sam Archer. He’s a 3
^rd
Grade detective with the
Counter-Terrorism Bureau.’

He typed
it in, then nodded. ‘He was booked in on Friday night. Says he
accessed confidential police files whilst on suspension and
harassed a family member of the victim. Orders here are to keep him
locked up until his suspension hearing at Police Plaza tomorrow
morning.’

‘
We want him released right now.’

‘
On whose orders; yours? Get out of here.’

‘
Maybe we should call Lieutenant-General Franklin and tell him
what happened?’ Josh said.

‘
That’s a bold threat.’

‘
He likes Archer. A hell of a lot more than he’ll like
you.’

Looking
at them and realising they weren’t kidding, the desk Sergeant
hesitated then made a decision. He checked the system
again.

‘
As it happens, your man’s not here anymore.’

‘
Was he released?’ Marquez asked.

‘
No. There wasn’t enough space here so they shipped him uptown
‘til his court date tomorrow. You need to take it up with
them.’

‘
Where uptown?’

The man
paused, not quite able to make eye contact with Josh and
Marquez.

‘
Rikers Island.’

Already
inside April Evans’ apartment, one of the figures in white overalls
and a baseball cap stood waiting with a chloroform-soaked rag in
his right hand, ready to pull the bitch in the second she stepped
through the door.

He’d
heard the shitty old wood creaking as someone climbed the stairs
and had just received a text telling him the girl was on her way
up.

But the
door didn’t open. Perhaps she’d stopped to talk to a neighbour or
something.

The man
waited.

A few
moments later, getting impatient and not hearing any voices, he
eased the door open and looked outside.

The
corridor was empty.

Looking
to his right he saw his companion suddenly appear from the stairs,
having come up from the van.

‘
Where the hell is she?’ he asked.

The
other figure stopped.

‘
I thought you already had her?’

‘
You sent him to Rikers?
’ Josh said
incredulously, leaning over the desk. ‘A police detective? Are you
kidding me?’

‘
I didn’t, the last shift did. And it says here he’s suspended
so technically right now he ain’t a detective. He’s booked in ‘til
his hearing tomorrow morning.’

He
looked at them and shrugged.

‘
Sorry. Nothing I can do.’

Without
wasting another second, the two Counter-Terrorism Bureau detectives
turned and ran outside to their car and climbed inside. Slamming
his door, Josh fired the engine and took off down the street as
Marquez pulled her cell phone to call the prison. Although they now
knew where he was, both of them were now infinitely more concerned
about Archer’s safety than they’d been a minute ago.