NYPD Red

BOOK TWO





MAJOR REWRITE





Chapter 30



THE CHAMELEON CLOSED his eyes and tried to home in on the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Who is this?” he said.

A raspy laugh. “An old war buddy.”

“This is a new number. None of my old crowd has it.”

“We got friends in common, Gabriel. Some of them still work at Silvercup. Your name was on the call sheet for the Ian Stewart movie today. I guess you saw that terrible tragedy unfold before your very eyes.” Another laugh, even raspier.

The neurons in The Chameleon’s brain were going off like a string of cheap Chinese firecrackers, and one of them zeroed in on the grating laugh. “Mickey?” The Chameleon said. “Is that you?”

“I’m happy to say it is, but you, on the other hand, don’t sound too overjoyed to hear from me.”

“Mick,” The Chameleon said. “It’s after midnight. My girlfriend and I were just—”

“Just what? Watching TV? Catching up on the news of the day?”

“We were asleep. What do you want?”

“Nothing we can talk about over the phone,” Mickey said.

“Last I heard you were on an extended vacation up in the Adirondacks. It’s six hours away, but if you tell me when visiting hours are, maybe I can take a run up there.”

“They gave me time off for being a model vacationer. I got back into town last week. Remember where my old loft was?”

“Yeah. Long Island City. Skillman Avenue. The scenic part.”

Another annoying laugh. “Scenic. I like that. Why don’t you come over and we can sit on the veranda, have coffee, and watch the sun rise over the freight yard.”

“Screw the sunrise, Mickey,” The Chameleon said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hung up and started getting dressed.

Lexi didn’t move from the bed. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“Production snag. It goes with the territory.”

“Bullshit,” she barked. “Listen—if you don’t want me to show up on location at Radio City and watch the pyrotechnics, fine. I can live with that. But if you’d rather go to Long Island City in the middle of the night than f*ck, you damn well better tell me why. I’m not the girl at the popcorn counter anymore, Gabe. We’re either in this together, or you’re in it by yourself.”

He sat down on the bed. “Sorry, Lex. You’re a worrier, and I was trying to spare you.”

“Don’t. Don’t ever. Now tell me what’s going on?”

“Did I ever tell you about Mickey Peltz?”

“No.”

“He was one of the best special effects guys in the business—especially with explosives. He was good at blowing things up, but he cut corners so he could siphon off some of the production budget and put it in his pocket. One day he’s working on a bank heist movie and they needed to blow up an armored car. Mickey was in charge of the blast, and he decided to buy some bargain-basement crap that was cheap and volatile instead of expensive and stable. A bomb went off prematurely, a stuntman lost an arm, and Mickey pulled four years at the Adirondack Correctional Facility up in Ray Brook.”

“And?”

“And it looks like he got out early, saw the Molotov on TV, and knew it was me.”

“How is that possible?”

“The one I tossed was wickless,” The Chameleon said. “Only a handful of guys in the business do it that way. It was one of Mickey’s signature effects. He taught me how to make it, and I guess he put two and two together.”

“So what does he want from you?” Lexi said. “A screen credit?”

“My guess? He wants a few bucks, and he’ll promise to keep his theories to himself.”

“Blackmail.”

“He didn’t use that word, but that’s where my brain went.”

“And it won’t just be a few bucks, will it?” she said.

“Blackmailers have delusions, so I guess his starting price will be somewhere between ridiculous and out of his f*cking mind.”

“I have one more question,” Lexi said.

“And I already have the answer. No, you can’t go. But you knew that before you even asked.”

She hopped off the bed and wrapped her arms around him. She was still naked. The fading scent of their lovemaking still hung in the air. He draped his arms over her shoulders and pressed her close.

“You’re a glass-half-empty person,” she said. “I’m a glass-half-full.”

“Understatement,” he said, planting a kiss on the back of her neck. “You’re a glass-overflowing person. What’s your point?”

“This is the best thing that could have happened to us,” she said. “Your little trip to Mickey’s loft could be an incredible scene. It’s another twist. Even we didn’t expect it, and we wrote the script.”

As soon as she said it, he knew she was right.

“This is why I love you,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it right away, but you nailed it. Let’s go write the scene.”

“You and me?” she said.

“Who else would I write it with?” he said, pressing her to his chest and kissing her hair, her nose, her lips. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”