NYPD Red

Chapter 38



FOR TEN SECONDS the three of them just stood there. A silent tableau. Gabe waiting for Lexi to say something. Lexi forgetting that she had something to say. And Jimmy Fitzhugh trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Finally, he made a stab at it.

“Yo tengo dinero,” Jimmy said. “Cinco. Cinco hundred dollars. No habla español, but I got five hundred bucks.”

Gabe pointed his gun at Fitzhugh, then at a desk chair.

“You want me to sit down?” Fitzhugh said.

Gabe nodded, and Fitzhugh sat.

He was in his forties, but athletic—not one of those three-hundred-pound bikers you see riding on the Thruway. He was an aging jock and proud of it—a gym rat who played tennis, squash, and Broadway League softball. Gabe had no doubt that given the chance, Fitzhugh would pounce on him in a heartbeat and take him down.

With the Walther trained on Fitzhugh, Gabe backed up to where Lexi was standing and got as close to her ear as possible.

“Say your lines,” he whispered.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

She turned to Fitzhugh. “We want the money.”

“You speak English?” Fitzhugh said.

“Of course I speak English,” she said. “What kind of a stupid question is that? I repeat. We…want…the…money. Now.”

“I’ve got five hundred in my wallet. It’s all yours. Let me just reach into my pocket, and—”

“You think we came all the way up here to get your wallet?” Lexi said. “We want the drug money. Open the safe.”

Gabe could feel his chest tightening. Open the safe was in the script. We want the drug money was not.

“Who the f*ck are you?” Fitzhugh yelled. “Do you work for Monte? Did he send you?”

“We work for ourselves!” Lexi yelled back. “Now open the safe.”

“I don’t have the combination, and I don’t know anything about drug money.” He stood up. “And if you want to know what’s good for you—”

Gabe slammed him across the face with the butt of the Walther. Fitzhugh fell back in the chair, both hands pressed hard to his bloody cheek.

“Open the safe now or die!” Gabe screamed, waving the gun at him and hoping that the pain and the fear would prevent Fitzhugh from recognizing his voice.

Fitzhugh was moaning. “Okay, okay. Please don’t shoot. I got two kids.”

He dropped to his knees and wiped his bloody hands across his shirt.

“Keep watch!” Gabe yelled at Lexi, hoping that two more words wouldn’t make a difference.

Lexi went to the trailer window and parted the blinds with her fingers.

“There’s people walking out there,” she said. “Hurry.”

Fitzhugh opened the safe and backed up. Gabe looked inside. No weapons. No nothing, except for a gray metal lockbox.

“The key is in my desk drawer,” Fitzhugh said.

Gabe waved him toward the desk with the gun.

“Hurry!” Lexi yelled, stamping her feet. “I think someone’s coming.”

Fitzhugh opened the top desk drawer and took out a small key. Then he pulled the lockbox from the safe.

“There’s enough in here for three separate buys,” he said. “Let me give you a piece of advice. You take a bundle, and I guarantee you nobody will chase you. You take it all, and Monte will hunt you down, rape your girlfriend, slit her throat, and put her in a coffin. She’ll be the lucky one, because you’ll go in after her—still breathing. Then he’ll bury the box and forget where he left you.”

“Open it,” Gabe growled, more concerned with getting out than being recognized.

Fitzhugh unlocked the box and flipped the top.

Three neat stacks of bills. Hundreds on top of each stack. Not very thick, but drug bundles didn’t have to be thick. They’d all be hundreds.

“Trust me,” Fitzhugh said. “You really don’t want to take them all.”

The Chameleon picked up one of the packets, then hesitated.

“I’m not kidding, Gabe—hurry up!” Lexi yelled frantically from her spot at the window. “I swear to God someone is really coming.”

Fitzhugh stood up. “Gabe? The extra? The guy with the Kawasaki Ninja? Are you out of your mind? Do you really think you’re going to get away with this?”

The Chameleon had no choice. He pointed the Walther at Fitzhugh’s chest and squeezed the trigger.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” he bellowed as Fitzhugh fell backward onto the desk chair.

If Lexi had an ounce of composure left, it was gone. “Are you crazy?” she screamed. “People outside heard that. He gave you the money. Why did you shoot him?”

“You told him my name!” Gabe screamed back.

“No I didn’t. I swear.”

Gabriel grabbed the other two stacks of bills and shoved all three into the pocket of his windbreaker.

Then he yanked Lexi by the arm and dragged her to the door.

“Mask,” he shouted.

They each pulled off their ski masks and left the trailer.

They walked east toward Broadway. Ten minutes later they were sitting in the last car of the downtown D train.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. I’m sorry,” Lexi said, tears running down her cheeks.

“Do me a favor,” he said, barely parting his lips as he spoke. “Just shut the f*ck up.”