The Betrayer (29 page)

“The mass of men started moving, like one of those rugby huddles. They were out of control, swaying here and there, back onto the sidewalk, back onto the street. Before I could do anything — before I could pick up that knife — I heard the Russian yelling. He was panicking. He yelled something, repeated it maybe three times, and I didn’t understand what was going on.

“But then I saw it. Someone had pulled out his gun. Dad had grabbed it. And then I heard the gunshot.

“The Russian just dropped. Boom, like that, he was a heap on the pavement, blood pouring from his head. But the mass kept moving, stepping over him. The guy who had grabbed me saw this and started screaming. Dad must have kicked him in the balls, because he couldn’t get up at first. He wanted to, struggled to stand, and then finally did. He staggered over to the Russian, was still screaming. It was this terrible scream. He dropped to his knees beside the Russian, tried to tend to his head, like he could stop the bleeding or something. But it was too late. The man was dead.

“The mass of men collapsed then — someone stumbled, and the whole thing came down. The man who had grabbed me saw that. He searched for the knife, saw it, and went for it. He grabbed it and was hurrying toward the pile of men in the middle of the street. He was enraged. I knew he was going after Dad. I started after him, but his partner saw him coming and got up from the heap to intercept him. He grabbed hold of him — he could barely keep him back. The guy who had gone crazy just kept swinging the knife at the air. The guy who had been following us with the Russian started yelling something at them. He was taking charge now that the Russian was dead. He must have been telling the other guy to get the crazy guy with the knife out of there. Obviously, the crazy guy with the knife was the Russian’s son. I knew that even then.

“Another man rose from the pile. He had the gun. Dad was facedown on the pavement, still struggling, but the man hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the gun a few times, and Dad suddenly stopped struggling. I got pissed and started toward the guy with the gun. I didn’t care what happened to me then. But someone came up behind me — it must have been the driver of the box truck. I heard this sickening thud and saw these orange lights. The next thing I knew I was slumped on the sidewalk.

“The crazy guy — Gregorian’s son — was being dragged away by his partner. His partner kept saying something to him in Russian, saying it in his ear. Eventually Gregorian’s son dropped the knife. He and his partner were halfway across Eleventh Avenue by then. When they reached the other side, Gregorian’s son stopped struggling against his partner and started running beside him, being pulled along by him. They were heading east.

“The rest of the men picked up Dad and dragged him to the back of the truck. They got him inside, then climbed in with him and pulled the door closed. I saw the driver scramble in behind the wheel. The truck took off, and all that was left was me on the sidewalk and the dead Russian in the middle of the street.”

Johnny thought about what he had seen that night.

The two masked men rounding the corner, one of whom landed on the hood of the car and looked at Johnny with fear in his eyes.

Wild fear.

“I heard that shot,” Johnny said. “But by the time I got to where the body was, you weren’t there.”

Jeremy was exhausted. He returned to the bed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and slouching, his head bowed, his eyes on the narrow stretch of floor between his feet and the window. “Sirens were coming,” he said. “I took off.”

“Back to MacDougal Street.”

Jeremy nodded. “I didn’t know where else to go. My head was bleeding from where the driver had blackjacked me.” He paused. “And I guess I was in shock.”

“You got high again.”

It was obvious to Johnny that his brother was ashamed — of his actions during the altercation, and in the hours that followed it. “I couldn’t remember anything. I definitely couldn’t remember how I got to MacDougal. My memory was just…blank. But I was used to that, used to blackouts. That’s why I became a fucking addict, to
forget. Getting high was what I did, so that’s what I did. The next morning one of my friends heard on the news that someone had been shot in Chelsea, and that an FBI agent was missing. I remembered enough then to put two and two together.”

“That the FBI agent was Dad.”

“Yeah.”

“So you headed home. To Ossining.”

“I figured that’s where you and Cat would be.”

Johnny recalled the scene at the house: Jeremy talking to the police that had gathered there, Cat and Fiermonte listening closely. His recollection of the abduction that day was scanty compared to now. He was really very little help at all back then. Most of what had been pieced together about that night didn’t come till later, when a member of the six-man grab team had been captured and quickly confessed.

Of course, it wasn’t just details of the abduction — and subsequent murder of their father — that this man had provided.

He was the first to point to their father’s alleged double-dealings.

The first to label the man as a betrayer of his oath.

“You said earlier that you had remembered names,” Johnny said.

“Yeah. Of the three men Gregorian talked to while I was in being held in that room. At one point he was telling someone who else was in. That was what I remembered.”

“Morris thought Smith might know how to find those men.”

Jeremy nodded. “Originally, I was hoping one of them could help me somehow clear Dad’s name. That one of them would know why someone wanted Dad’s reputation destroyed. Or better yet, who that someone was.” Jeremy paused. “Dad’s dead because of me. We all know that now. I can’t bring him back to life, but I thought maybe I could give him back his good name. It was the least I could do for him. And the least I could do for you and Cat, too.”

“You said ‘originally.’ What changed?”

“We started to hope that maybe one of those men would be able to give us something on Dickey.”

“We?”

“Me and Morris. It was a long shot, even I knew that. But those three names were all we had.”

“And Smith was supposed to help you locate those men.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you give him the names when you and Morris met with him?”

“We kind of got sidetracked. They told me that my therapist had been found dead. And then they just fixated on the recordings.”

“They wanted you to hand them over.”

“Yeah.”

“Suddenly they didn’t care about the names you had remembered.”

Jeremy nodded.

“And it was right after the three of you met that Smith and your Russian friend jumped you.”

“Just a few minutes later, in fact. As I was leaving to get the CD.”

“Wait,” Johnny said. “You were on your way to get it, and
then
they jumped you? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Welcome to my world, Johnny.”

“Were you going to give it to Morris or Smith?”

“Both.” A thought occurred to Jeremy. “So maybe Smith didn’t want Morris to have it. Maybe I was right to trust him. Smith and Gregorian’s son are obviously connected somehow, but maybe Morris is cool, maybe he’s trying to help.”

Johnny thought about that for a moment, then asked, “You said the CD isn’t far from here, right?”

“It’s less than a block away.”

“And it’s safe?”

“Anyone who tries to get it is going to be seen by two surveillance cameras, not to mention by whoever is working behind the counter and whoever happens to be in the store at the time.”

“You gave the only key to Beth, though, right? So can you even open the box yourself?”

“I asked about that when I rented the box. As long as I show them my driver’s license and the information matches what’s on the contract I signed, they’ll open the box for me.”

“Do you have your license on you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy reached into his jeans pocket, removed his license, and showed it to Johnny.

“Hang on,” Johnny said. He stepped to the door and opened it. Cat and Haley were sitting on the small sofa in the living room. “Cat, can you come in here?”

She stood and approached the bedroom. Haley remained on the sofa. As Cat stepped through the door, Johnny told her to leave it open. He looked at Haley for a moment, smiled the best he could. Cat stood beside Johnny and studied their kid brother.

“He needs to rest,” she concluded. She looked at Johnny. “You both do. Actually, Johnny, you don’t look so great.”

“I’m okay.”

“I have some painkillers.”

“I’m fine.” He looked at his brother but addressed his sister. “We should get his CD as soon as we can. We need to put it someplace that’s safer, maybe even make a few more copies. And we should get his laptop from downstairs, have a technician of yours look at it.”

Cat nodded. “How far away is the CD?”

Jeremy answered, “There’s a UPS Store right around the corner from here, on Fifth. It’s there. Box six fifteen.”

“But we don’t have the key.”

“There’s a way around that,” Johnny said. “The thing is, neither of us can get it for him.”

“I’ll take him,” Cat offered quickly. “On the way back up, we’ll get his backpack from the front desk.”

“I’d better go with you. We can’t be sure that no one’s out there.”

“I can handle it, Johnny. And, to be honest, you really don’t look so good.”

Johnny heard Haley rise from the sofa and cross the living room. Obviously, she’d heard Cat’s comment. Within seconds, she was standing in the doorway directly behind Johnny.

“You need to give Cat those names,” Johnny said to Jeremy. “I doubt we’ll be able to find any of those men, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because Dickey went on a rampage after Dad was killed. A lot of men just disappeared. The story was that Gregorian had betrayed Dickey, and Dickey was going after anyone else who may have been in on it.”

“But you don’t believe that anymore.”

“What looked like a purge could have just been Dickey covering his tracks, killing everyone who had been involved.”

“First rule of assassination,” Jeremy said. “Kill the assassin.”

“But Gregorian’s son was part of the six-man team,” Cat said. “He’s still alive. And he’s working for Dickey.”

“I know Dickey,” Johnny said. “I know how he thinks. He saw Gregorian’s son as an asset. The guy witnessed his own father’s death. A thing like that would make him receptive to manipulation.”

“Dickey kept him on, just in case.”

“He probably treated him like his own son, gave him money and gifts. Dickey’s good at that, at finding out what a person wants — what a person needs more than anything — and then giving it to him.”

“Like he used to do with you,” Jeremy said.

Johnny looked at his brother.

Like he’s still doing, he thought.

“I wonder what kind of things he gave Gregorian’s son,” Cat said. “To keep him around for three years. I wonder what a guy like that needs more than anything.”

Johnny was looking at his brother’s beaten face. “The promise of a few hours alone with
him
, for starters,” he said.

No one spoke for a moment.

“We need the names,” Johnny said.

Jeremy rattled them off. Three Russian names, none of which meant anything to Johnny.

Cat pulled a small notepad and pen from her pocket and wrote the names down. Jeremy watched her, and when she was done, he said, “So Dickey’s running scared. I mean, if he weren’t, would he have gone to the lengths he’s gone to make sure you guys wouldn’t believe me? I mean, isn’t that alone an admission of guilt?”

Jeremy was, Johnny knew, right about this much — discredited, viewed by his own family members as unreliable, what threat could he possibly pose, once the only remaining copy of the CD had been secured?

Once Jeremy had, one way or another, led them to it.

Johnny knew, too, that Jeremy was right about Dickey’s actions during the last twenty-four hours being clear indications of guilt — some kind of guilt.

After all, Johnny’s own actions over the past year had been those of a guilty man as well.

And yet there was, Johnny knew, a difference between the appearance of guilt and proof of it.

“You’re going to need to listen to the recordings,” Johnny said to Cat. “I’m not sure that what Jeremy has told me would be considered proof. We may need more if we’re going to get Dickey.”

“What do you mean by ‘get Dickey’?” Cat asked.

“Get him charged, make sure that he’s convicted,” Johnny said.

Cat was visibly relieved. “I’d like someone else to listen to the recordings with me,” she said.

“Donnie?”

“I’d like a second opinion on whether this will be adequate proof.”

Johnny thought about that, then said, “We probably shouldn’t put him in the position of needing to lie about having seen me.”

“I was thinking the same thing. We still have Jeremy’s other room. You and Haley could go there.”

“A new room would be a better idea, I think. Maybe one above or below this one, if we can get it.”

“Okay,” Cat said. “I could put my cell phone on speaker, you could listen in. For all Donnie would know, you could be a thousand miles away.”

From behind them, Haley spoke. “I can get us the room.”

Johnny and Cat looked at her.

“I don’t want you walking around alone,” Johnny said.

“Hotels can be squeamish about giving rooms to people who look like they’re about to drop dead,” Haley said.

“I’ll go with her,” Cat offered.

“No, I will,” Johnny said.

“She’s right about the way you look.”

“I’ll stay back, out of sight.”

“Once you guys are settled,” Cat said, “I’ll call Fiermonte. He and Jeremy and I will go get the CD. If Dickey’s men are smart enough to be somewhere outside waiting for us, then I don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to kill an FBI agent and assistant prosecutor in the middle of the Flatiron District in broad daylight.”

Johnny asked Cat if she was armed.

“I have my Sig. The one Dad gave me.”

“Where is it?”

“In the bureau drawer.”

Before Johnny could ask her if it was legal for her to carry a gun while she was on a leave of absence, Jeremy cut in.

“So you believe me,” he said, his tone flat. “You believe Dickey had our father killed.”

He was looking directly at Johnny.

It was a hard thing for Johnny to imagine — that he and Haley had been under the protection of the very man who had betrayed his father.

The man who had arranged for their father’s abduction, ordered his torture and gruesome murder.

A hard thing to imagine, and an even harder thing to admit.

But what other choice did he have?

“I believe he had something to do with it, yeah,” Johnny said.

Jeremy nodded, then looked at Cat. “And you? Do you believe me?”

Cat nodded. “I do.”

“And Beth?” Jeremy said. He was asking both now. “Do you believe Dickey had Beth killed, too?”

Cat and Johnny nodded.

Jeremy closed his eyes tight against another sudden wave of rage and tears.

Johnny could only imagine what it must be like to live that way, swinging from one extreme to another so easily, so quickly, so often.

Cat stepped to the bedside and put her hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

“I’m not up to hearing those recordings again,” he said. “I’ll help you get the CD, but then I want to go back to my old room, if that’s all right.”

Cat looked at Johnny. He knew what she was thinking, that she was seeking his approval for what she was about to offer. Johnny nodded once.

“Maybe you should go with Johnny and Haley,” Cat said to Jeremy. “You don’t look all that great, either. You two can keep an eye on each other while Donnie and I work this out.”

Jeremy nodded but said nothing.

He was a man — barely a man — broken by anguish and grief.

In his travels Johnny had seen men like that, too — men with nothing left to give. But it was also more than just that, more than physical and emotional exhaustion. Jeremy simply had nothing left at all, nothing that could be taken away that hadn’t already been taken away.

And violently.

Johnny had himself become one of those men once, a burnout adrift in a city that had been built for burnouts.

A city seemingly put on this earth for no other reason.

He knew that men like that were dangerous, too.

As dangerous, easily, as men like Gregorian’s son.

“You’ve done everything you can, Jeremy,” Cat said. Her voice was soft, her manner motherly. “I’ll take it from here, okay? You rest.”

Jeremy nodded. He was sobbing now, quietly but fiercely.

This scene reminded Johnny of the day their mother had finally succumbed to cancer seven years ago.

Jeremy utterly inconsolable, and Cat trying to console him. Determined to, but ultimately unable.

It was almost as if those seven years hadn’t happened.

Haley moved from the doorway to Johnny’s side and took his hand. The display of raw grief — long sobs echoing in that tiny room — had brought tears to her eyes. Johnny squeezed her hand gently, looked at her briefly, then said to Cat, “We should get moving.”