Hays appraised the street detective as if deciding if he could measure up to a job. “I go to Juárez for the cuisine. Try El Tragadero in Calle Constitución. Best rib eye you’ll ever eat.”
Heat said, “But Mr. Hays, you do have a domestic entity. What about Firewall Security?”
“Rope-line bouncers and celebrity-threat assessment. Nothing more.” He capped his Fiji and stood. “We all happy now?”
Nikki said, “So you’ve never heard of Zarek Braun?” The tonal shift was striking. For the first-time ever, Heat saw him falter. Maybe it wasn’t fear she saw on his face, but something close to it. The cockiness sure got dialed down.
“You’re after Braun?”
“So you do know him.”
“He’s here?”
Heat held out the CCTV capture of Zarek Braun emptying the assault rifle at her, and he sat back down to study it. “G36. The Z-man still likes his toys.”
“He was playing with me when that got taken.”
“And you’re still here. I’m impressed.” Hays meant it. Heat decided to ride the unguarded moment.
“Our Interpol report said he was Polish military, an employment gap, then Lancer Standard, and now nothing. Fill in some holes for me here.”
He fluttered the photo across the Black Hawk wing to her. “Zarek Braun came on my radar after he mustered out of the Polish army. He was some fucking soldier. Led a platoon of Poland’s First Special Commando Regiment in Operation Swift Relief in Pakistan in 2005. Moved on with them to Bosnia, then Iraq, then kicked some ass in Chad in 2007.
“Got into some trouble for being trigger-happy for a UN peacekeeper—which I had no problem with—and so, when he got drummed out, we used him. Mainly for sabotage at first, then for our extraction teams in places I will not name, but you have seen on the nightly news. He had a lot of skills but, man, it was his temperament. The guy kept himself so mellow. I swear he pumped Freon instead of blood.”
Heat thought of her nickname for him and pictured Braun’s cool, casual air sauntering toward her on West Sixteenth. A trickle of discomfort ran through her and she wondered if her face registered the same uneasiness she just saw on Lawrence Hays. “Are you going to tell me if he still works for you or make me guess?”
“In my business you get a share of madmen acting out. That’s the life. Things happen in battle we can’t judge sipping mineral water in air-conditioned comfort. So there’s leeway. Zarek Braun, though. Braun is in a league of his own. I’m not going to run it all down, but during a covert action we were asked to spearhead called Operation Dream Catcher, we started getting feedback from the field about atrocities and some majorly diabolical shit. So, when I made a trip over there to our little hamlet in our undisclosed location, I had a sit down with him.” Hays tapped the photo on the table showing Braun passively emptying the gun. “This is what he looked like through the whole conversation. Long story short, I booted him. That night Zarek Braun set an IED in my base camp. Killed my best bodyguards.” The CEO stood and pulled up his black polo shirt to reveal a salad of pinched, discolored tissue, jagged scars, and disfiguration from burns. He let the fabric drop and said, “I don’t know where he is now.”
“You can find out.” Hays gave her a blank look, but she now knew it was personal with him so she pushed harder. “This guy is not only out there in the city firing assault rifles at cops like it was Kandahar, Mr. Hays, I need him for multiple homicide cases I’m working. You want him to pay? I can get him. Will you at least say you’ll help?”
Lawrence Hays considered, and Nikki thought just maybe she had reached him. But then he said, “I make it a point of never saying anything.” He pressed a button and the door automatically opened to let in their escorts.
Feller got out and folded in the side mirror so Heat could snug her car close to the Roach Coach when she double-parked outside the precinct. She was gauging the width of West Eighty-second to make sure she’d left enough room for traffic to pass when her phone rang. “Hey,” said Rook. “Can you meet me? I mean right now.”