Red Alert(NYPD Red #5)(72)

“You took twenty years of my life,” Segura said. “Do you think I can put a price on that?”

“I think you already have, Geraldo. That’s why you’re here. Del, Arnie, and Nathan all paid for what we did to you. If you kill me, you’ll have exacted revenge. But what about justice? Shouldn’t one of us compensate you for your twenty years of pain and suffering? Shouldn’t one of us pay for the forty or fifty years you have left ahead of you? I’m the only one with those kinds of resources. That’s why I’m still alive, and you’re here drinking my single malt.”

Segura grinned. “You’re right. In the beginning, I wanted to mow down the four of you with an AK-47. But as I got closer to freedom, I realized that while four dead former friends would make me feel good for a few brief moments, three dead and a shitload of money would keep me happy forever.”

“Hallelujah,” Wells said, tossing down half of his drink. “So tell me the number you have in your head, and we can both get a second chance at life.”

“Five million dollars—”

“Done,” Wells said quickly.

“A year,” Segura said. “Five million dollars for every year I spent in that rat-infested shithole wearing leg-irons and shackles in the stupefying heat, choking on the stench from the communal latrine, while you got fatter and richer, never once lifting a finger to rescue me from the hell you subjected me to.”

“A hundred million dollars,” Wells said, making it sound partly like a statement, partly like a question.

“Take it or leave it.”

“Clearly you’re very good at these high-finance shenanigans yourself,” Wells said. “I’ll take it.”

“You can wire it to my offshore account. I’ll give you the number.”

Wells sat down at his computer and began to type. “One question,” he said. “How do I know you won’t wait for me to wire the money and then kill me?”

“You took my youth, my dream years, but my honor is still intact. If I take your blood money, I swear on the graves of my parents that I won’t kill you. Not now. Not ever. And once I walk out that door, you’ll never see me or hear from me again.”

Wells nodded and went back to typing. Segura walked to the bar and was about to pour himself another drink when the doorbell rang.

The video camera at the front door flashed a picture of the visitors on Wells’s screen.

“It’s those two goddamn detectives,” he said. “What should I do?”

Segura removed a gun from his waistband. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”





CHAPTER 69



Kylie had no patience. She rang Wells’s doorbell a second time.

“Who is it?” he responded over the intercom.

“Detectives MacDonald and Jordan, NYPD,” she said. “We need to talk. It won’t take long.”

“It’s rather inconvenient right now,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something. Can you come back tomorrow?”

“It’s rather inconvenient to have a mass murderer wandering around our city, Mr. Wells,” she said. “Since you’re at the top of his hit list, maybe you could drop what you’re doing and spend a few minutes with the people who are trying to get to him before he gets to you.”

“Point well taken, Detective,” he said. “I’ll be right down.”

She stepped away from the intercom and threw her hands up in the air. “This is the same bullshit we got from Langford. Nobody wants to talk to the cops.”

“Langford didn’t want to talk because he was guilty of murder,” I said.

“So what’s Wells’s excuse?” Kylie said. “Do you think he knows that we’re the mayor’s stooges, and he’s not in the mood to talk about building housing for the homeless? Or do you think he’s totally in denial about Segura, and he figures if he makes us go away, then the problem goes away?”

“Or there’s a third possibility,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Like maybe he’s in the middle of something, and we came at a really inconvenient time.”

The front door opened and Princeton Wells stood there, his hair wet, his feet bare, and a towel around his waist. He reeked of booze.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “Kenda and I were in the hot tub.”

“We apologize if we caught you at a bad time,” I said.

“Bad time? Hell, you caught me at a great time. And if the two of you want to join me and Kenda in the hot tub, it could be a fucking fantastic time.”

“Mr. Wells, I know you’ve turned us down before,” I said, “but in light of what happened with Nathan Hirsch, NYPD is prepared to offer you police protection. Do you want it?”

“Sure. You can protect me from that blonde in the hot tub. She’s insatiable. I swear to God that woman will be the death of me.”

“Sir, have you been drinking?” Kylie said.

“Nonstop, Detective. It’s my go-to coping mechanism. As far as I know there’s no law against it, so if there’s nothing further…”

“There’s one other thing. The mayor would like you to call her.”