“Right now Hirsch is spilling his guts out,” Cates said. “He owned up to the Thailand drug run twenty years ago, he admitted he’s got this hooker set up in a condo in Jersey, and he just confessed to bribing a witness in a libel case he won last year. That alone will get him disbarred.”
“Segura spent twenty years in a Bangkok prison because of this asshole and his friends,” I said. “Do you think he’s going to be happy with Hirsch losing his law license and doing a Martha Stewart in a minimum security country club?”
“Almost there,” Kylie said, making a left on Duane.
“I don’t care how good a lawyer Hirsch is,” I said. “He’s not going to be able to argue for his life. Segura wants him dead, but first he wants to completely humiliate him—destroy whatever legacy this weasel may possibly have. And I’ll bet that as soon as Hirsch coughs up every smarmy, slimy thing he ever did, Segura is going to blow him up the same way he killed the other two.”
We turned left onto Centre Street, and Kylie hit the brakes. The New York County Supreme Court building at 60 Centre is directly across the street from Foley Square, an iconic landmark in lower Manhattan steeped in history and the site of the sculpture Triumph of the Human Spirit.
Kylie and I had just been there, all pumped up about getting the search warrant that would bring down Troy Marschand and Dylan Freemont. I’d barely taken note of my surroundings, but I vaguely remember that the air was crisp and clean, the traffic was flowing, and all was right with the world.
Now, less than an hour later, men and women in uniform were scrambling to set up barricades three hundred feet from the courthouse steps, where a lone man in a dark suit sat with a cell phone to his ear and a bomb chained to his wrist.
“We’re at the scene, Captain,” I said. “We’ve got cop cars, fire trucks, and media vans up the ass. Where the hell is the bomb squad?”
“Bay Ridge, Riverdale, Ozone Park, and Harlem. We got a rash of school bomb threats just before this one came in. I’m sure Segura is behind it, but we can’t take a chance until we evacuate every one of those kids and have the dogs canvass the buildings. The Emergency Service Unit is on the way, but right now, it’s on you.”
“The uniforms are working on crowd control. What do you want us to do?”
“Stay on this phone,” Cates said. “Nine one one will patch you into the conversation between Hirsch and Segura.”
“Patch…? Why?”
“Why the hell do you think, Jordan? You’ve been to Bangkok. You know the players better than anyone. This is your case. I want you to talk with Segura and keep him from detonating that bomb.”
Kylie looked at me and shook her head. She knew what I knew. Segura had spent half his lifetime planning for this moment. There was no way on earth he was going to settle for an apology and a couple of confessions. But that’s not what Cates wanted to hear.
“All right, Captain,” I said, opening the car door. “I’ll try my best.”
“There’s no trying on this one, Jordan,” she barked. “Suit up and get it done. This department and this mayor cannot afford another dead New York City millionaire on the front page of every paper in the country.”
I heard a click, and then I was listening to a man speaking. I recognized Nathan Hirsch right away.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” Hirsch said. “Who is this?”
“This is Detective Zach Jordan. I’d like to join this conversation.”
“Detective,” a second voice said. “Do you know who this is?”
“I do.”
“Nathan tells me you flew to Bangkok to pay me a visit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So sorry I missed you,” he said. “Why don’t we catch up now?”
CHAPTER 51
“You’re quite the hero in Thailand,” I said. “I had dinner with Pongrit Juntasa, and he told me that Rom Ran Sura brought great honor to—”
“Rom Ran Sura is dead.”
“But I thought you were—”
“I am Geraldo Segura. It’s the name my Guatemalan parents gave me when I was born, and it will be my name when I die. Rom Ran Sura was part of the artifice, a tool I used to dig my way out of prison thirty years ahead of time.”
“Whatever your name is, you’re a Muay Thai legend.”
“There are no legends in hell. Except for Satan himself. You should be honored that he dined with you. I subsisted on a single bowl of rice in watered-down soup every day while Nathan got fatter and richer.”
“I know what you went through,” I said. “I visited Klong Prem. I saw the deplorable conditions you were subjected—”
“Will you shut the fuck up, Detective?” It was Nathan Hirsch. “What the hell are you doing on this phone call, anyway?”
“You have a bomb attached to your wrist, sir. I’m trying to negotiate a peaceful resolve to a volatile situation.”
“By agitating the man? By rehashing the life he just escaped from? Geraldo and I were having a meaningful discussion. We all make mistakes when we’re young. He and I were both seduced by Princeton Wells. Wells made the drug deal with Zoe Pound. Wells bought the heroin. And it was Wells who made sure that if we got caught, Geraldo would pay the price. My only crime was not mounting a campaign to free my friend.”
“Don’t be modest, Nathan,” Segura said. “That’s not your only crime. You’ve already admitted to several, and we were just getting started.”
“So I’m a lawyer who broke the law. They’ll disbar me. They’ll fine me. They’ll put me in jail. They’ll give me what I deserve. But I don’t deserve to die.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to say to Mr. Segura,” I said.
“Do me a favor, Detective. Don’t say anything. Butt out.”
“I’m sorry, Detective Jordan,” Segura said. “It appears Nathan doesn’t want your help. But feel free to listen.”
I muted the phone as Hirsch launched into another mea culpa.
I scanned the street on the far side of the square. In the few minutes since I’d arrived, it had mushroomed into an armed camp packed with first responders ready, willing, and able to take on whatever disaster befell their city.
Behind them were the media vans, gobbling up the human drama and spitting it out to cyberspace, the airwaves, and the printed page to satisfy the bloodlust of their loyal followers. Nathan Hirsch had woken up this morning with a head full of secrets. By nightfall, they would belong to the world.
Kylie came running toward me with a large pair of bolt cutters in her hand.
“If you’re thinking about cutting the chain to the briefcase, forget it,” I said. “Segura is watching from somewhere. If you get within a hundred feet of Nathan Hirsch, you’d better be wearing earplugs.”
“Zach, I know, I know, but listen to me. Remember what Howard Malley told us about the code name Interpol gave Flynn Samuels?”
“They call him Sammy Six Digits.”
“Right. He taps a six-digit date into his cell phone to detonate the bomb. Cell phone, Zach. Segura can’t blow up anything without a cell signal, and guess what they have on the ESU truck? A cell jammer.”
“And guess what NYPD can’t use without a warrant?” I said. “If you want to run across the street to the courthouse, maybe you can get one.”
“There’s no time for a goddamn warrant. This is a life-and-death situation.”
“How many thousands of people do you think live and work in this area? What if one of them has a life-and-death situation and can’t call 911 because you jammed the airwaves to save Nathan Hirsch? Kylie, cell jammers are like search warrants. Judges get to make the decision. Not cops.”
“Fine,” she said. “The bomb squad is ten minutes out. Maybe they can do something. How are you doing on your hostage negotiations?”
“I’m persona non grata. Nathan Hirsch doesn’t want my help. All I can do is listen.”
“Hold on to these,” she said, handing me the bolt cutters. “I know what Segura looks like. I’m going to work the crowd and see if I can spot him.”