Wake the Devil (20 page)

B
eth was about to suggest a restaurant when she noticed a man in a tan raincoat standing in the shadows of a doorway across the street. This was the second time she’d seen him. Coincidence? She debated whether to mention it now and alarm the others. The fact was the Sandman did scare her. He seemed to be a step ahead of them at every turn. Dwayne Stafford solved her dilemma when he asked what she was looking at.

“That man across the street was here earlier. I think he’s been watching the entrance. I didn’t make anything of it the first time.”

“What do you mean?”

She explained.

Stafford’s face grew hard. “I think I should go over and have a talk with him.”

“Maybe I should,” Price said. “You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

Beth agreed. The agent was nearly at the front door when the hospital’s fire alarm went off. She and Stafford immediately stepped in front of Rachel and drew their weapons. Slightly slower to react, Price did the same.

“We need to get Rachel out of here,” Beth said. “
Now
.”

“You think Courtney will make a run at her in here?” Price asked.

“I’m not willing to take the risk. In Atlanta, he used drones for a diversion and then hit our safehouse. This could be another ploy.”

“My SAC briefed me on that. He has to be working with someone. He couldn’t pull the fire alarm if he’s a hundred feet away.”

They turned back to the man across the street only to find he was gone. People were exiting the building in droves. In the lobby, the alarms were so loud it made thinking difficult. All three of them were scanning the immediate vicinity for threats.

They had a problem. A big one. There was no way they could take Rachel into the street. Single assassin or multiple, being outside was far too risky. On the other hand, if the building really was on fire, staying inside wasn’t an option. The firemen would be arriving soon and there’d be no choice but to leave. They needed to move.

“Price, did you bring a car?”

“Sure did.”

“Drive it around to the doctors’ entrance. Every hospital has one. Dwayne will bring Rachel down in five minutes. As soon as she’s in, head to the Plaza Hotel. No stops. I’ll meet you.”

“And what will you be doing?”

“If that is the Sandman, I’ll try to stop him or draw him off. If he finds out where Rachel’s staying, we’ll just have a repeat of this.”

“Not smart, Detective. You need to wait for backup.”

“We don’t have the time.”

“But—”

“Look, he basically walked through us in Atlanta. Maybe you’ll have better luck. But I can’t take that chance. If I corner him, I’ll call and you can send in the cavalry. Get going.”

“I really think I should be the one to brace him,” Dwayne said.

“That’s an order.”

Price shook his head and headed for the stairs as the alarm continued to blare. People were still streaming out into the street. Senses alert, Beth holstered her weapon and followed them.

T
he first responders had yet to make an appearance. The crowd filling the sidewalk was growing by the minute. Beth surveyed the street. No one looked suspicious nor was there any sign of a tan raincoat, which meant nothing. Switching coats wasn’t hard. To make matters worse, traffic on Second Avenue was slowing down to see what the fuss was about, adding to the congestion. Sirens could be heard in the distance.

Ray Price’s presence helped. The Sandman knew what she, Dwayne, and Rachel looked like. He didn’t know Price or where he was taking Rachel.

Two blocks north, Beth caught a glimpse of a tan raincoat walking away from the commotion. Suddenly conscious she was very much alone, She started after him. If she could buy Dwayne and Price enough time, they could get away unseen.

Beth quickened her pace as a light rain began to fall. It would only mess up traffic further. A little less than a block ahead, the raincoat turned a corner. Fearing she would lose him, Beth started to jog. A one-person tail was incredibly hard to pull off without being seen, but there was no choice. She reached the corner in time to see the man walking west on Forty-Second Street. As she negotiated her way through a crowd of tourists gaping up at the buildings, she saw the tan raincoat disappear into Grand Central Terminal. Conscious there might be a partner lurking around she checked over her shoulder and spotted a tall man in a navy pea coat and black watch cap coming quickly up the street behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she
kept going. Possibly their plan was to draw her out and come at her from both directions. Easy to eliminate the competition that way. She needed to call Price and let him know she was in pursuit, but there was no time to stop.

Acting on instinct, Beth accelerated into an all-out run and entered the Terminal. If it was the partner, she’d deal with him when he made an appearance. Grand Central was massive, and there was no telling which train the Sandman had jumped on. She took a chance and headed toward the 4/5/6—the most heavily used line in Manhattan. She went down the steps two at a time, bought a ticket, and headed for the platform one level below her, then came to a stop. The trains ran in both directions, uptown and downtown. She had no idea which way the Sandman had gone.

Fifty-fifty chance, if she’d even picked the right train line.

She chose the uptown line. Guessed wrong. She knew it the moment she reached the loading platform. At most, ten people were waiting for the train and none of them were wearing tan raincoats.

But she was in luck. On the opposite side of the tracks at the far end of the station, she spotted her quarry standing next to a trash can. He saw her as well, but didn’t react.

Shit. A light at the end of the tunnel indicated the train was approaching. As she raced for the staircase, they made eye contact with each other. If he was concerned by her appearance, it didn’t show. Once again, she checked over her shoulder. Still no one coming up behind her. Slowing as she crossed over, Beth found her phone and punched in Ray Price’s number only to find there was no signal underground. Beneath her feet, the platform rumbled as the train pulled into the station. She gave up and ran for the southbound side of the tracks, hardly making it through the closing doors in time. The Sandman had been standing at the opposite end of the platform and would have boarded the first car.

At the next station, she stepped off the car and waited to see if Courtney would do the same. He didn’t. She slipped back in and made her way to the next car. Her right hand remained close to the gun on her hip. Shoot first and ask questions later would result in disaster on a crowded train.

Thoughts of Ed Mundas and George Lawrence and all the innocents who had died as the cable car plummeted to earth flashed into her mind. It was the work of a heartless killer who had crawled out of the dark and settled in their midst. The closer she drew to the first car, the more her heart began to hammer. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she continued to thread her way forward. Between the cars a damp, black ripple of a breeze passed over her skin. It was was sour and unsatisfying, drying the beads of sweat on her face. Despite a brief wave of panic that washed over her, she forced her feet to keep moving. Three cars to go. Still too far away to see if he was still on the train. Nevertheless, she could feel his presence. She tried placing herself inside the killer’s head as Jack had taught her. What did he have in mind? How would he react when they came face to face? He could have dropped her off Stone Mountain and shot her at the safehouse, but he’d let her go both times. She wasn’t complaining, but his actions made no sense.

The Sandman had come to New York to end Rachel Lawrence’s life. No question about that. He was like some hideous, relentless machine from the movies. Yet knowing she was in the hospital, he hadn’t made a run at her. Maybe things weren’t going so well for him after all. Three times he’d tried, and three times he’d failed. Beth remembered looking up at his silhouette as she clung to the edge of the rock. The sound of his voice saying he was only doing a job had stayed with her.

Well, find another.

S
he barely had time to squeeze through the doors when they reached the Fulton Street Station. The few remaining people on board filed out as the conductor announced the train was going out of service.

A peculiarity of New York’s massive financial district is the mass exodus that takes place every day. Drop a bomb on Wall Street at noon and you’d wipe out three million people. Drop one at five thirty
PM
and you’ll kill almost no one. In a few short blocks, Beth found herself walking through a ghost town of empty streets surrounded by skyscrapers.

She was positive the fire alarm had been a ruse to lure Rachel outside. But for some reason the killer had abandoned his plan. If this was his escape strategy, he’d picked the wrong place for it. They were seven blocks from Manhattan’s southernmost tip. A few hundred yards ahead, she spotted a tan raincoat striding purposefully along, seemingly unconcerned she was following him. In minutes, they would run out of room. To the right was the newly rebuilt World Trade Center complex. Beyond that, New Jersey. Ahead, Battery Park and the mouth of New York’s harbor. From there, you could press on to Brooklyn, provided you could swim. Beth drew her Beretta and continued down Broadway. Time to call for backup.

At Trinity Church, she took Ray Price’s business card out and was starting to punch in his number when footfalls on the pavement stopped her. Spinning around, she leveled her gun at a deserted street. In the gutter, a candy wrapper tumbled along end over end. She’d
been concentrating so hard on the Sandman and what he was up to, she’d forgotten about the partner.

For the first time, it dawned on her she might have been led into a trap. There had to be a reason the Sandman appeared so unconcerned. Certainly he knew she was there, because they’d seen each other.

How could I be so stupid?

To her left, the sound of another footfall reached her. Beth backed up to the church doors and tried them. Locked. What else did she expect at this hour? At the end of the street, the tan raincoat turned a corner. Worried and nervous now, she finished typing in Price’s number. And reached his office.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation. May I help you?”

She cursed under her breath. She’d misread the card and had just called the general office number.

“This is Elizabeth Sturgis. I’m a detective with the Atlanta Police Department. I’m trying to reach Agent Ray Price. This is an emergency.”

“Agent Price is out of the office, ma’am. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

Beth explained the situation as quickly as possible. Movement caught her eye on a narrow side street intersecting Broadway.

I’m too exposed.

A moment later, a man named Otis Wheaton came on the line as Beth moved off the steps and hopped a small fence into the cemetery at the side of the church. The largest object there was Alexander Hamilton’s mausoleum. At least that would afford her some protection. She relayed her story to the agent.

“I understand your situation, Detective Sturgis. Let me verify with Ray and we’ll get someone down there to help you. I take it you’re armed?”

“I am, but there are two of them and I’m in the middle.”

“Got it. We’re rolling. Just stay safe and wait for us.”

“Step on it, would you? I think Courtney’s heading for the Staten Island Ferry.”

“Then it’ll make picking him up easier. Just don’t try any heroics. We’ll be there as quick as we can.”

After they disconnected, Beth checked the street again and saw nothing. It was possible she was imagining things and spooking herself as far as the partner was concerned. The agent’s advice to keep safe had hit a sore spot. The memory of giving up Jack’s name to the killer at Stone Mountain was still fresh in her memory, as was the feeling that she had committed a cowardly act. Jack had waved the episode away. She hadn’t. Moreover, waiting wasn’t her forte. She hadn’t become a cop to hide behind monuments and let someone else do her job. Still, two on one wasn’t smart . . . assuming there were really two of them. To make matters worse, believing they were in a low risk situation in New York, she hadn’t worn body armor that day.

She glanced at the grave markers around her. They were the oldest in the city, some dating back to the 1600s before the country was founded. In a day or so, she’d be back in yet another cemetery for Ed Mundas’s funeral and again for George Lawrence. The longer she waited, the more her anger grew. Convinced she was hiding from shadows, Beth stepped from behind her cover and back into the street. If Courtney really had brought his partner with him, he’d have to make a move before they reached the park. As she moved down Broadway, she used the ground floor windows on the buildings to check the street behind her. It was as empty as when she arrived.

The rain had turned into a blowing mist, reducing visibility. Wind coming off the harbor only made matters worse. Fearing that she would lose the Sandman, Beth began to run.

With its view of the Statue of Liberty and sails gliding across the water, Battery Park could be a pleasant place to spend an hour or two reading or strolling, but not on a day like this. There was no question in her mind now the Sandman was trying for the ferry.

She flinched when her phone buzzed. The screen said “Private Caller.” Assuming it was Ray Price calling back, she answered.

“I’m not inclined to keep handing out second chances, Elizabeth.”

The accent and voice were immediately familiar. The last time she heard it had been in the safehouse basement.

“There’s no place for you to go, Courtney.”

His hesitation in responding was enough to let her know she had rattled him.

“Very good, girl. You’re a quick study. Always knew you would be.”

What did that mean?
Beth spotted him about seventy-five yards away standing by himself at the safety rail. She started toward him.

“Don’t come any closer,” Courtney said, holding up his hand.

“This place will be swarming with cops in about ten minutes. They have a green light to shoot on sight, but if you surrender now, I can promise you a fair trial.”

Courtney laughed but didn’t respond.

It was a long way for a shot using a handgun, particularly in those conditions. Plus he wasn’t showing a weapon. Even if she could take one, the rules of engagement were stopping her. Too bad murderers didn’t have to follow those rules. She started forward again, holding her gun low as the wind grew stronger. Beth wiped the mist from her face and ended the call. The killer stood there watching her. Once more, the phone buzzed in her free hand. This time the screen said Raymond Price.

“Where are you?” he said.

“At the entrance to Battery Park. Courtney’s about sixty to seventy yards in front of me.”

“Listen . . . do . . . attemp . . . yourself. We’re . . .”

“Say again. You’re breaking up.” Beth rolled her eyes when the call dropped. What else was new? In the midst of all that concrete and steel, it wasn’t surprising. Didn’t matter if help arrived or not. She still had a job to do.

Near the horizon, dark clouds were lit by flashes of light. Closer in, she could hear the rumble of thunder. The harbor was gray and unsettled, filled with whitecaps.

The Sandman finally turned and started walking. He was definitely making for the Staten Island Ferry. It might be easier to pick him up on the boat, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t surrender easily. Moreover, he’d take a number of people with him.

“Thomas Courtney! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Despite the rising wind and rain, the killer turned. He was holding something in his hand. Beth’s foot chose that moment to slip out from under her on the wet grass. She hit the ground hard. Came up on one knee and brought her weapon to bear.

Factor the wind. Lead slightly because he’s moving. Breathe.

There was still no weapon showing, but what was that in his hand? She couldn’t take the chance. This man had killed Ed Mundas, Will Landry, all those people at Stone Mountain, not to mention shooting Dwayne Stafford point blank. The world was better off without him.

Her finger increased its pressure on the trigger.

A split second before she squeezed off the shot an arm closed around her chest.

Beth panicked. In her rush to stop Courtney, she’d taken her mind off the partner.
Fool!
That’s why he hadn’t fired. Desperate, she tried to break the grasp, but the man was too strong. The Sandman began walking back toward them. Fighting with all her strength, she twisted around and found herself looking into the face of Jack Kale.

“Jack! What?”

“It’s all right. Let’s see if we can convince Mr. Courtney to come along quietly.”

Jack rose, keeping his eyes on the killer. He reached out and helped Beth to her feet. Behind him at the edge of the park were Todd Milner, Ray Price, and four FBI agents in blue windbreakers spread out in a semicircle. All of them had rifles trained on the Sandman. The killer stopped and surveyed them with a disturbing calm.

“How did you get here?” Beth asked.

“By plane, same as you, courtesy of our government. First things first, okay?”

Todd Milner called out, “Thomas Courtney, throw down your weapon, lace your fingers together, and put your hands behind your head then get down on your knees!”

Courtney remained where he was. Milner repeated his order as the agents began to advance. No more than forty yards separated them.

“This is your last warning. If you don’t comply, we will open fire.”

Beth too trained her gun on the Sandman. Like the others, she started forward. Once again, Courtney held his hand up for her to stop.

“Something’s wrong,” Jack said.

*

He could see the killer was holding a cellphone. He appeared to be talking to someone. Confused, Ray Price looked to Jack for a decision.
In Atlanta, there was no question Courtney was working with a partner. Maybe that’s who he was talking to. Searching the area for a threat, he saw nothing.

Distracted by the conversation he was having, the killer glanced at them. More specifically, he glanced at Beth. Whatever he was arguing about and whoever it was with, the conversation was becoming more heated. Unfortunately, the wind made it impossible to hear what he was saying.

Courtney shook his head. Looked at Beth once again. Only this time his expression darkened. Something shifted behind his eyes. The sudden change reminded Jack of another killer he’d met a long time ago. Using hand signals, he motioned for the agents to hold their positions.

Could this man be reasoned with? Did he intend to fight or surrender? The fact that he wasn’t displaying a weapon didn’t mean he was unarmed. Seconds ticked by. Jack looked from Todd Milner to Ray Price. Conscious of his orders from Janet Newton, he made his decision. He would try to convince the killer to surrender.

Out on the harbor, a solitary gull soared on the air currents under a threatening sky. Whipped by the wind, the rain was coming at them at an angle. As Jack started forward, Courtney’s eyes moved off Beth and fixed on him. Two things changed: the phone conversation ended abruptly, and a faint smile appeared on Courtney’s face.

“Down!” Jack screamed. “Down!”

Twin flashes of light accompanied by loud explosions ripped the air. The concussion lifted him off his feet, throwing him backward. He had the vague impression Ray Price was also down. Milner immediately dropped to one knee as he fired his weapon. The Sandman went crashing backward over the safety rail.

Jack shook his head trying to clear it. Got up. The sound around him suddenly seemed muted. Beth was still on the ground, but seemed to be all right. He looked to where the Sandman had been standing. The space was as empty as if no one had ever been there.