Heat gasped for air and fought nausea. Salt from her own sweat stung her eyes. When she had gulped enough breath, she said, “It was you guys, wasn’t it? You guys did something to the Huddleston boy. You were the ones who killed him.” Nikki pulled in a deep lungful. God, she felt like she was drowning. “That was on the video, right?”
“Nikki Heat. Always the detective. You’re handcuffed, we’re torturing you, and you’re asking the questions.” Dutch waved the wand before her eyes and said, “I only have one question. I know what was on the video. All I want to know is one thing—where is it?”
* * *
He knew it was an exercise, but Rook left her one more voice mail. As he pressed End, he figured it was probably more for him and his need for contact, even if it was one-sided. No, he told himself. If he left her voice mail, maybe she would survive to hear it.
At Twelfth Avenue and West 59th Street, he gave up using the car. He pulled the Camry over into the nearest spot he could find, and even though the posted notice warned that it was an active driveway, he had bigger concerns than a ticket and a tow. The problem was that his phone GPS worked fine, but it only gave an approximate location within five hundred feet, roughly a tenth of a mile. He stood at the corner where the Westside Highway ramp elevated and watched the blip on the digital map as he turned in a circle. By his reckoning, Nikki’s phone could be in one of four buildings: the paint warehouse, the sign manufacturer, a nameless pale brick structure that looked like private storage, or across the highway at the City Sanitation dock on the Hudson.
A frozen drizzle started to fall. Rook pulled his collar up against the night. He began his search by walking the perimeters of the three buildings on his side of the street. After that, he’d cross over to the Sanitation pier.
* * *
“Tell me something,” said Heat. Her throat was raspy, and when she ran her tongue along her teeth, she felt a new jagged chip on a molar. “You put three in Steljess to shut him up, didn’t you?”
Van Meter adopted a pose of mock innocence. “Nonsense. I did it to save your life, Heat.”
“Yuh, right. After you sent him to bomb my apartment. Where’d you get the C4?”
The Discourager started to speak, but Van Meter cut him off. “Shut up, Harvey. Enough.”
“Military grade explosive is hard to get, even for cops,” she continued. “Who’s behind this? Somebody big, right? Is it somebody outside the force? Somebody big who has pull? Somebody down at City Hall? Somebody national?”
Dutch said, “You about done? ’Cause now it’s time to light ’em up. Where is the video?” He twisted the red teardrop-shaped knob half a turn clockwise, and a buzz filled Nikki’s ears like all the beehives in the world.
Behind him, Harv stood and turned his back, unwilling to watch. From that angle, Heat could see the deep fingernail gouge in his handcuff case, which was empty.
“Last chance,” said Dutch. He paused. Then he rolled on his stool down toward her waist and out of her view. Heat felt her blouse being unbuttoned.
And then the lights went out and the buzzing stopped.
“Shit. Harvey, you said there was enough juice here for this thing.”
“The fuck I know. Should be, but it’s an old building, so shit happens. We need to find the circuit breakers, I guess.”
The glow of the city against the clouds filtered through skylights and cast the workroom in a pale lunar radiance. At the door, Van Meter paused and said, “Don’t go away.” Then he and The Discourager left.
Nikki pulled against the handcuffs. All they did was bite her skin. She was resting, trying to suppress panic, when the door opened again. She lifted her head and saw Detective Feller. He wasn’t wearing a ski mask, either.
“Your partner quit and gave up,” she said.
Feller put a finger to his lips and whispered, “I screwed with the power to get them out of here.” She felt the handcuff opening on one ankle, then the other. When he came up beside her to unlock her wrists, she saw the gun he held at his side. “Can you walk?” he asked.