Red Alert(NYPD Red #5)(39)

“Why the hell not?”

“Captain, you saw the photos from Roosevelt Island,” Kylie said, jumping in. “It was a sex crime. Chuck Dryden, who almost never goes out on a limb without hard evidence, said that the killer was ‘most likely a man.’ I guess we made the natural logic leap to heterosexual man.”

“So you profiled them,” Cates said, “and you decided that being gay was an alibi.”

“Not our finest moment,” Kylie said. “But in our defense, it was the end of a grueling night that started out with a bomb blast and went downhill from there.”

“If you’re right,” Cates said, “and the blackmail scheme was a crime of opportunity, then it makes sense that Marschand and Freemont are the opportunists who pulled it off. They’ve already had one major score, and since the judge probably isn’t the only one caught on camera with his pants down, they’ll probably go after the other potential blackmail targets next.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kylie said. “So can you approve a budget to tail them?”

“I’ll pay for the manpower,” Cates said. “But it doesn’t warrant round-the-clock. One team, twelve hours a day. And when the ransom demands come in, don’t ask me for another nickel. After what went down this morning, if you told me the perp was in Jersey, I wouldn’t pay your tolls for the trip over the George Washington Bridge.”





CHAPTER 37



As soon as Kylie and I broke the news to Corcoran and Fischer that they were the designated hitters to shadow the two suspects in the drone heist, we were able to pick up where we’d left off after our predawn meeting with Malique La Grande.

Thirty minutes later, we walked into the lobby of a forty-story green glass tower on Maiden Lane in the financial district.

“You know what I hate about this job?” Kylie asked as we stepped into an elevator.

“I’m sure you’ve got a list,” I said. “But since we’re only going to the twelfth floor, how about you just give me your bitch du jour?”

“Ass-kissing,” she said as soon as the elevator door closed.

“Can you elaborate?”

“Nathan Hirsch came to us with his big confession about running drugs for Zoe Pound, but he left out the most important part,” she said. “I mean, why tell us the whole truth when all he wanted us to do was arrest Malique?”

“The guy is a slimeball with a wife and kids in Queens and a hooker on call in Jersey,” I said. “Are you surprised that he lied to you?”

“No. They all lie, Zach. But if Hirsch were a run-of-the-mill asshole, we’d drag him into an interview room and scare the crap out of him. But since he’s a privileged asshole, we’re heading upstairs to his office, and we’ve got to smile politely, pucker up, and kiss his butt while he keeps lying to us.”

“I believe you just summed up the mission statement of our unit,” I said. “To protect and serve the privileged assholes.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she said. “I’ll give it a shot. Let me do the talking.”

The elevator door opened on twelve. There were five names on the wall, one of which was Hirsch’s.

We went through the standard meet and greet with the receptionist. No, we didn’t have an appointment, but tell Mr. Hirsch that Detectives Jordan and MacDonald are here, and we’re sure he’ll find the time.

In less than a minute, we were sitting in Hirsch’s office, where the familiar aroma of cigar smoke and flop sweat permeated the air.

“Did you arrest La Grande?” he asked.

“He said he didn’t do it,” Kylie said.

“There’s a shocker,” Hirsch said. “A drug dealer who lies to the cops.”

“Was he lying about Geraldo Segura?” she snapped, neither smiling nor puckering up.

“Is that why you’re here?” he said, raising his voice. “La Grande told you about Segura, and I didn’t, so you’ve come to the erroneous conclusion that I have something to hide.”

“Do you?”

“No. But the fact that Segura is in prison is irrelevant.”

“Not to us,” Kylie said. “According to La Grande, Segura was innocent. You brought him along to take the fall if the drug run went south.”

“I brought him along?” Hirsch said, his fists clenched, his face turning red. “The entire operation, start to finish, was Princeton’s. He set up the deal with Dingo, he provided the plane, and the rest of us didn’t even know Segura was coming along for the ride until he showed up at the hangar. I was a kid, I was stoned half the time, and if Segura was set up to take the fall, blame Princeton Wells. He was the mastermind.”

“And what if Segura doesn’t know that?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he blames all four of you? Wouldn’t that make him a prime suspect?”

“No. It makes him someone who might want to kill us, not someone who can actually pull off the bombings. In case you forgot, Detective, Geraldo Segura is serving fifty years in a prison in Thailand.”

“You know who else is doing time in a prison in Thailand?” Kylie said. “The man who designed the bombs that killed Del Fairfax and Arnie Zimmer.”