The Darkness Part 12

"Not a hundred percent, but I think so."

"What else can you tell me about him?" I said. Suddenly Don stood up straight and took several steps back from me. He straightened his hat, then stepped forward.

I turned around to see a Lincoln pulled up at the curb. Don was approaching the backseat door, which he opened, bending over slightly while holding his hat with his free hand. When the door was fully open, a man stepped out and nodded at Don.

He was about six feet tall, slightly stocky, a middleaged man who clearly took care of himself. His black hair was slicked back into a neat coif, and his skin was evenly tanned. His watch glimmered in the afternoon sun, and I didn't need to look closer to know it was real, and had likely cost nearly as much as my education.

He strode up to the entrance, and I could tell from the slightly scared look in Don's eyes that this was Brett Kaiser.

"Mr. Kaiser," I said, matching his pace. Not an easy feat. "My name is Henry Parker. I'm with the New York New York Gazette. Can I ask you a few questions?" Can I ask you a few questions?"

Kaiser turned to glare at me, barely breaking stride. "I have nothing to say to you," he sniffed.

"Can I ask you what you know about 718 Enterprises?

Do you know a man named Stephen Gaines?"

Kaiser stopped, turned to face me. His eyes were 119.

cobalt-blue, but there was an anger in them that went well beyond that of a businessman annoyed at a prying reporter.

"Listen here, you little p.r.i.c.k," he said. "I don't know who the h.e.l.l this Gaines fellow is, and I sure as h.e.l.l am not going to talk to you about anything else. I--"

"So you know about 718 Enterprises."

"That's not what I said."

"You denied knowing Stephen Gaines, but didn't deny being aware of a company that was allegedly paying you for lease s.p.a.ce in your office building. Why not deny that as well?"

"Like I said, I have nothing to say to you."

"One question," I said. "One question and I'll leave."

Kaiser held a moment. I could tell that this man hated being shackled by a "no comment," didn't believe he had to bow to anybody or pretend his nose was clean. He ran his business the way he chose, and he'd be d.a.m.ned if anybody else told him that he might have erred on the wrong side of the law.

"One question," he said, "and then if I ever see you again I'll have your job taken away faster than you can clean all this mud off of you."

Cute line, I thought. It never ceased to amaze me that men like Kaiser could so calmly keep potentially devastating and illegal secrets, yet somehow I was the bad guy.

"Why?" I said. "Why take their money? Your practice seems to be thriving. Why take the risk?"

Kaiser opened his mouth, but just as I expected a lengthy response, a beautiful gem that would perhaps unravel the spool just a little more, his cell phone rang.

When Kaiser looked at it, I could have sworn his face went pale. He shoved it back into his pocket, looked at 120.

me and said, "Goodbye, Mr. Parker," and walked inside the building and disappeared into the elevator.

I stood there, trembling, angry that I had felt so close to getting him. Don came up to me and said, "Sweet guy, ain't he?"

"Yeah, he's going on my Christmas list for sure." I watched as the elevator light clicked, bringing Brett Kaiser to the twentieth floor. I eyed the windows facing the street. No doubt Kaiser had a great view. Then the curtains were drawn closed, and I figured Brett Kaiser was looking for a little privacy.

"Thanks, Don. I appreciate the help. Keep up the good work, and thanks for being agreeable."

Don laughed. "Gotta tell my wife that one. 'Honey, a reporter told me I was agreeable.' Not sure if that will win me points at the dinner table, but it's a good conversation piece."

"The least I could do," I said. "Take it easy, Don."

I walked to the corner, thinking about my next move.

I wasn't going back quite empty-handed. Even in his non-answer, Brett Kaiser had confirmed that he was well aware of 718 Enterprises. I believed him when he said he didn't know about Stephen Gaines. If my brother was involved in some sort of drug trade, his work on the street was twenty floors below Brett Kaiser's penthouse.

I was about to call Jack when I felt my cell phone vibrate.

a.s.suming it was Jack calling me, I took it out, looked at the caller ID. I didn't recognize the number, but it was from a 646 area code. It wasn't Jack; he had a 917. Might have been somebody from Kaiser's firm calling to threaten me, could have been a wrong number. Either way it seemed like a good time to screen my calls. I didn't want to waste any time on a conversation that wasn't vital to the investigation.

121.

When the phone stopped vibrating, I waited for the little envelope to appear that signaled I had voice mail. I called it, plugged in my security code and listened.

And at the first word, my blood ran cold. I knew that voice. Hadn't heard it in a long time, but there was no way I'd ever forget it. I hadn't spoken to her in almost a year, when I was dragged kicking and screaming from her office after she'd tried to ruin the life of the man I admired most.

It was Paulina Cole.

"Henry, this is Paulina. You know the last name, so I won't keep you. We need to talk. Off the record. It's important. You know d.a.m.n well it's important because you can bet I don't like calling you any more than you like hearing this message. But we need to talk."

She left her cell phone number and home phone number. Not her work number. I couldn't believe her audacity in calling me, but the fact that she only left her private lines clearly meant something was up. Something she didn't want her bosses at the Dispatch Dispatch involved in. involved in.

And while I was making my mind up whether to call her back, Brett Kaiser's apartment exploded in a ma.s.sive orange fireball that shot flaming debris half a block and cascaded smoke down upon Park Avenue.

16.

"Who was that?" Morgan asked.

Chester closed the phone, putting it gently back into his coat pocket. He looked at Morgan blankly and said, "Just checking my voice mail." He then offered a smile.

"I didn't hear voice mail pick up," Morgan added.

"You one of those dogs, hear high-frequency pitches and everything?" Chester asked.

The Town Car hit a b.u.mp, and Morgan gripped the armrest. "No."

"Well, that's too bad. Because when dogs hear something, they don't ask questions. But if they start barking, that's when their owner is bound to get upset. You get me, Morgan?"

"I get you."

"Good," Chester said. He looked out the window. They were heading toward the Queens-bound midtown tunnel.

Morgan could make out the East River, Roosevelt Island.

Morgan had never considered living outside of the city. If he was going to be a power broker, a master of the universe, he had to live within the castle walls. But now the powers that be were trying to evict him, trying to get him to leave the grounds he so desperately wanted to 123.

remain on. They'd taken his job, his livelihood, his dignity. It was up to him to figure out a way to stay.

So if Chester wanted to bulls.h.i.+t him about who he was calling, that was fine. Morgan didn't need to know everything. As long as the paychecks cleared, that's all that mattered.

"We're almost there," Chester said. Morgan nodded, looked out the window across the river.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear fire trucks screaming.

17.

For at least a minute, I couldn't hear a thing. The ringing in my ears pounded like I was being pummeled by a hammer, and shutting my eyes and clasping my hands over them didn't do a thing. A dozen of us had run to the corner, under the scaffold of a construction site, to escape the brick and ash that was dropping from the sky like small mortar sh.e.l.ls.

I looked up at the Park Avenue building, still shocked to see the gaping hole where Brett Kaiser's apartment had once been. Where just a moment ago I'd seen his blinds close. Where just a moment ago I'd questioned the man about his potentially illegal dealings with a company that may or may not have been responsible for the death of my brother.

Where a man and his wife once resided. Where at least one of them was now dead.

As the world slowly came back into focus, I could hear the sirens of police cars and fire trucks speeding to the scene. Onlookers stared at the building with masks of horror. Mouths open wide, hands covering them, tears streaming down their faces.

Then I saw Donald, my new good friend, standing 125.

across the street, his face covered in soot, his lower lip trembling as he watched flames lick at the open s.p.a.ce where there used to be a window.

Dozens of people were pouring out of the building, screams and cries when they saw the devastation above them. Some people wondered whether it was a terrorist attack, or another prop plane accidentally banking into a residential building. I wasn't sure if the truth, that Brett Kaiser had undoubtedly been murdered, would comfort them or make it worse.

When the first cop car pulled up, four officers exited and stood outside of the building looking up. One of them was barking into a walkie-talkie. I watched a small piece of gray ash float down and nestle itself on his brown mustache. He didn't notice. The other cops looked at it for a moment, then turned back to the burning building.

A fire truck pulled up, and immediately nearly a dozen of New York's finest went to work hooking the hose up to a hydrant in front of the building. As they did this, I walked over to the cop car. When he noticed me coming, one of the officers turned to me.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step back. We don't know how much damage there's been to the structure of the building."

"I understand that," I said, taking my wallet from my back pocket. I slid my business card out and handed it to him. "My name is Henry Parker, and I'm with the Gazette. Gazette. " "

He rolled his eyes and prepared to hand the card back to me. "Mr. Parker, I--"

"I spoke with Mr. Kaiser. Just minutes before this happened. I don't know if I was the last person to speak with him but...I thought someone should have this in case they need to get in touch with me. If there are any questions."

126.

The cop looked at my card, understanding. He nodded, then slipped it into his uniform. "I'll give it to the lead detective," he said.

"Thank you," I said. "And good luck."

He nodded, turning back to the gaping hole in the brick building.

I walked a few blocks away, making sure I could hear right again and was away from the commotion that would surely envelop that area for the next few days. I took out my phone and called Jack. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Henry, good timing. Brett Kaiser left about twenty minutes ago. I think he's headed toward you. I didn't get much, but if you--"

"Brett Kaiser is dead," I said. There was a pause on the other end.

"Wait...what did you say?"

"I said he's dead, Jack. I caught up with him about ten minutes ago when he pulled up in front of the building.

I talked to him for about thirty seconds, then he went upstairs. And less than a minute after that, somebody turned his apartment into a gigantic barbecue pit."

"Wait a d.a.m.n minute," Jack said. His voice was uneven, shaky. I'd never heard Jack like this before.

Scared. It put a lump in my stomach, as the enormity of it all began to sink in. "You're saying somebody killed Brett Kaiser?"

"A few times over," I said. "Somebody wanted to make sure he didn't have a chance to talk to anyone. But I do know that he knows about 718 Enterprises, and if I'd had him another minute he would have spilled everything."

"Jesus, be careful, Henry. It's possible somebody saw him talking to you."

"Wait, no way, how could they..."

127.

"Don't be stupid," Jack said. "If someone knows he was talking to you, they might think he told you something."

"But he didn't," I said, pleading my case with n.o.body.

"Whoever killed him doesn't know that," Jack said.

"Be careful. Meet me back at the office in half an hour."

"No can do," I said, unsure of why I was going to do this but sure that I needed to.

"And why the h.e.l.l not?"

I couldn't tell Jack. If he knew, it would toss our whole relations.h.i.+p into jeopardy. But we had the same blood, the same gene that refused to allow us a moment's breath, that refused to give us rest if there was one unanswered question. But Paulina had nearly ruined his career. And he couldn't know.

"I have to meet someone," I said. "A source. I'll be back in a couple hours. We'll catch up then."

"Fine, Henry. But watch your back."