Silent Night

TWENTY NINE

Although Archer had only been with the Counter-Terrorism Bureau for just under half a year, he’d seen all manner of suspects and criminals processed through the building. Murderers, members of sleeper terrorist cells, suspected suicide bombers, physical monstrosities like Kyle Gunnar. But the sight of a good-looking English millionaire in a smart grey suit being led into the station in handcuffs was definitely a first. His shoes probably cost more than Archer’s entire wardrobe. He had short-cut grey hair the same shade as his suit and a white shirt with a long black tie under a black coat. Moments ago he’d been led into the cell which Gunnar had just vacated, his pockets emptied and placed in a tray next door. Shepherd was in the seat across from him as Archer leaned against the wall to his right, his arms folded.

Jacobs was still in his chair, his hands on the desk, his face calm. Archer examined him. A man accustomed to getting his own way.

‘Before you begin, let me save you some time,’ Jacobs said. ‘I’m not saying a word until my lawyer arrives.’

‘It’ll be an old colleague or friend, right?’ Archer said.

Jacobs looked up at him, surprised. Not at his statement, but by his accent.

‘MI6?’

Archer shook his head. ‘NYPD.’

‘How the hell did you end up here?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘Here are the concrete facts,’ Shepherd said. ‘We have a recorded message on Paul Bleeker’s phone which you left several hours ago. I think you know about a certain virus and you were planning to do something with it.’

Jacobs didn’t speak. He also didn’t ask what virus.

‘What if we let your partners know this is happening?’ Archer asked. ‘A good lawyer might get you off the hook. That’s a very distant might. But do you think all your clients will still want to do business with a suspected terrorist?’

‘Go ahead. Once I get out of here, I’ll sue each one of you for everything you have.’

‘From the sounds of it, you need the money.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘We know all about your little gambling problem. How much do you owe this time?’

Jacobs shook his head. But his demeanour had changed slightly. He studied the table in front of him. Archer had struck a nerve.

‘Have they threatened you?’

Silence.

‘Have they threatened your son?’

Jacobs kept his eyes on the wooden desk but the look on his face answered Archer’s questions. He may have been a good lawyer but Archer could see why he wouldn’t be good at the card table. He wasn’t exactly hard to read.

‘If you work with us, we can help you,’ Shepherd said. ‘We can bring the boy in and put him in protective custody. Something tells me the men you owe aren’t the type who follow the rules . You help us out, we can make that all go away.’

Pause.

‘No. You can’t.’

‘A man was killed in Central Park last night. He was gassed with a small dose of the virus we think you’re involved with. Two other viral bombs were left across the city this morning. Paul Bleeker arranged it. If you work with us, we can secure the remaining sample of this virus before anyone else is killed.’

Jacobs looked up at Shepherd. He seemed genuinely surprised.

‘Wait a minute. Bleeker already had the virus?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Where is he?’

‘The morgue.’

Jacobs dropped his head. ‘That son of a bitch.’

‘What was your deal?’ Archer asked.

Shepherd suddenly rose from his chair, and walked out, closing the door. Jacobs and Archer were left alone.

‘What was your deal?’ Archer asked again. ‘How did you end up in this?’

Jacobs didn’t reply.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Shepherd reappeared, something in his hand. He closed the door and moved back to his chair. He slid a photograph across the table towards Jacobs. It was a shot from the morgue of the groundsman from the Park, Luis Cesar, taken from above the steel tray he was laid on.

‘This is the man who died in Central Park,’ Shepherd said, as Jacobs looked down. ‘He had a wife and five children. He drowned in his own blood.’

Pause.

‘Right now, you can help us. I’m sure your lawyer will be the best of the best. He’ll wrestle these charges down to something manageable. Two years in a private facility, maybe less. Maybe you’ll never see a prison cell. But if you don’t start working with us, hundreds, maybe thousands more people could die like this man.’

Silence.

‘Talk to us!’ Archer said. ‘Cut the shit. We don’t have time for this!’

Just then, the door burst open and a lawyer walked in, a briefcase in his hand.

‘Not another word, Mr Jacobs,’ he said, moving forward and placing the briefcase on the desktop in a smooth motion.

Archer and Shepherd looked over at the English lawyer, who’d seemed on the verge of speaking. Then he looked up at his lawyer and nodded.

He wasn’t going to be talking any time soon.



At Kearny Medical in New Jersey, Bobby Rourke was looking through the glass at the body of the dead doctor inside the sealed lab. He’d finally stopped twitching, blood and pieces of lung tissue surrounding him, some of it sprayed on the glass. He’d watched the man’s death with fascination.

The virus sure as hell worked.

Behind him, the lift dinged and opened. He looked over his shoulder and saw Finn walk out, heading towards him. As he approached, Sway noticed his friend wearing the protective suit minus the helmet and saw the dead body inside the lab.

‘Why didn’t you just shoot him?’

‘I wanted to do a test. ’

Finn looked at the six canisters sitting on the desktop in the lab. He pointed.

‘OK, genius, so how do we get them out now?’

‘Relax. One of the doctors showed me how to filter the air before I shot him. I push a button, it’ll be clean in less than a minute.’

Finn nodded. ‘OK. We’re halfway there.’

‘No, we’re all the way there. The doctor cooked up six canisters for us and Bleeker’s dead.’

‘Yeah, but his contact isn’t.’

‘Wait. You still want to go through with that?’

‘Yeah. I do.’

‘Do you have his number?’

Sway nodded. Rourke turned to him.

‘Think for a moment. We need to be careful. You and Bleeker set this up to con the money out of the Brit. That was before Bleeker screwed us. What he did this morning will have alerted every cop and Federal agent in New York.’

‘Relax. It doesn’t affect our plan. It just means we’ll do it with an early two million in our back pockets.’

‘You sure he’ll pay?’

‘Bleeker said the Brit’s in seven figures with a Triad gang. He’s been given one week to front the money or his kid dies. He won’t back out.’

‘Could be a set up.’

‘Look at it this way. Bleeker served his purpose by making introductions at the rally. Now he’s dead, which saves us the trouble. And we get another $2 mil added to the pot.’

‘I still don’t like it.’

‘But I do. There’s two million on the table. I’m not walking away from that.’ He pulled his cell phone. ‘I’ll set this thing up.’

He pointed at the sealed-off lab.

‘Do me a favour and clean that shit out of there.’



Back at the Counter Terrorism Bureau, Archer and Shepherd had re-joined Josh and Jorgensen in the observation room of the interrogation cell. Marquez was upstairs working with Rach. The four men were standing in silence, watching through the glass as Jacobs talked with his lawyer inside the other room.

‘Shit,’ Jorgensen said. ‘He’s not going to be talking any time soon.’

‘We had him, sir,’ Archer said to Shepherd. ‘He had no idea what Bleeker was up to this morning.’

‘Your comment about needing the money rattled him,’ Shepherd said. ‘And the photo of the dead man shook him further. He’s not in this for terrorism.’

‘He’s in it for money,’ Josh finished.

‘He said something strange in there,’ Archer said.

‘What was that?’

‘Bleeker already had the virus?’

‘So?’ Jorgensen said. ‘Why’s that strange, genius?’

‘Because he was surprised. I think he and Bleeker were planning to buy it from someone else.’

‘But Bleeker already had the virus.’

‘Only because he stole it.’

‘You think he was double-crossing Jacobs?’ Shepherd asked.

‘I think he was planning to.’

As the men thought about this, Marquez stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Shepherd turned to her.

‘Any updates?’

She nodded. ‘CSU found a pay-as-you-go cell phone in a drawer at Dr Tibbs’ apartment. It has a very interesting call history.’

‘Interesting how?’

‘There’s only one number on there. Paul Bleeker’.

‘Oh shit,’ Jorgensen said. ‘So Tibbs is the missing link?’

‘He has to be,’ Marquez said. ‘Apparently the calls stretch back for the last couple of weeks.’

‘Get the two doctors,’ Shepherd asked.

Marquez ducked out. Moments later, she reappeared with Kruger and Maddy, the pair joining the team in the observation room for the interrogation cell.

‘What’s going on?’ Kruger asked.

‘A cell phone was found at Dr Tibbs’ apartment. He’s been in touch with Paul Bleeker for the past fortnight.’

‘What?’

‘He was the leak in your team,’ Shepherd said. ‘That’s how Bleeker knew about the virus. Tibbs must have told him.’

Kruger and Maddy both looked shocked. Shepherd gave them a moment. In the silence, a cell phone in the room started ringing but the room ignored it. Kruger looked surprised and took a seat while he thought the revelation through. Archer glanced at Maddy and saw her frowning, shaking her head. Marquez had noticed it too.

‘Will was such a quiet, gentle guy,’ Maddy said. ‘I can’t believe he’d do something like this.’

‘Never underestimate the appeal of money,’ Jorgensen replied insensitively.

The phone kept ringing.

‘Jesus Christ, will someone answer that?’ Shepherd said.

They looked at each other; it didn’t belong to any of them. Then they all turned in the direction of the ringing cell.

It was rattling and vibrating across the desk behind them, the screen flashing.

It was Jacobs’ phone.



Jacobs and his lawyer were mid-conversation when the door to the interrogation room burst open. Shepherd’s whole team moved swiftly inside, followed by Rach carrying her laptop. A wire was hooked up to Jacobs’ Blackberry, which was still ringing. Rach placed the laptop on the table quickly whilst Shepherd slid the phone in front of Jacobs. It sat there, purring and shifting on the table as the call continued.

Private Number was on the display.

The lawyer turned to the group. ‘This is-’

‘Answer it,’ Shepherd told Jacobs, pointing at the phone. The English lawyer was taken aback. He froze, as the phone continued to ring. ‘Answer it!’ Shepherd shouted at him. ‘On speaker.’

His change in tone jolted Jacobs into action. He lifted a finger and pushed Answer.

‘Hello?’

Pause.

‘Jacobs?’

The voice was Southern.

‘Yes. How did you get this number?’

‘Bleeker’s dead.’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘We’ll still meet tonight.’

‘Bleeker never told me where the meet would be.’

‘What?’

‘He never told me where the trade would happen.’

Pause.

‘Tonic East. 10pm. Third floor. You got the money?’

‘Yes.’

‘Two million. I want it transferred into an offshore bank account. I’ll give you the details when we meet. Then you get the item. If you’re a minute late, I’m gone.’

‘Yes. How do I know what you look like?’

Pause.

‘I’ll find you.’

And he hung up.

A moment of silence followed. Then as one, the room exhaled. Shepherd grabbed the phone, making sure the call was disconnected.

‘Now we’re talking,’ he said. ‘Did you get a trace, Rach?’

She shook her head. ‘Too quick.’

Shepherd turned to his team.

‘Tonic. You guys know that place?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jorgensen said. ‘I do. It’s a football bar, corner of East 29 and 3. Turns into a club at night.’

Shepherd checked his watch. ‘It’s 1530. The meet is at 2200. That gives us plenty of time to prepare.’

He looked down at Jacobs.

‘You’re going to make that meeting.’

The lawyer, startled by all this, tried to interject. ‘My client and I-’

‘Everyone, follow me,’ Shepherd said, ignoring the man and moving to the door.



At Kearny Medical, Sway had just ended the call.

He remained where he was, looking down at his phone.

‘What?’ Rourke asked.

Sway didn’t answer.

‘What’s up?’

Sway stared at the phone for a few moments longer, thinking.

Then he turned to Rourke. ‘Nothing. We’re on for tonight.’ He pointed at the canisters inside the secured lab. Rourke had activated the purification system and the air was now cleaned. ‘We need to get them stowed.’

‘No rush,’ Rourke said. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you get back from the meet.’

‘What about this place?’

‘Before we leave I’ll rig it up.’

‘If we blow it tonight, that’ll get attention. Set the timer for tomorrow.’

Rourke grinned. ‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’

Sway nodded.

‘I’m going to go prepare,’ he said, walking off towards the lift.

‘Wait. Don’t you need a sample of the virus?’

Sway turned and grinned.

‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’