Black Friday (or Black Market) - James Patterson [131]
“What does he know?” the Admiral asked eventually.
“Everything,” the Vice-president said.
Chapter 103
NEW YORK POLICE Sergeant Joe Macchio and Patrolman Jeanne McGuiness were rolling out of the wooded 72nd Street transverse through Central Park when they spotted a scene they wished they hadn’t spotted, especially not so close to the end of their four to twelve o’clock night shift.
“This is Car One-three-eight. Please give me immediate assistance at Seventy-second Street and Central Park West!” Patrolman McGuiness, a tall skinny woman with an impassive face, was already speaking into the patrol car radio. The red police bubble on top of their cruiser had begun to revolve.
Up ahead on 72nd Street, traveling at maybe fifty or fifty-five miles per hour, was a dark blue Lincoln. That wasn‘t the problem.
The problem was some suicidal or homicidal maniac trying to wiggle out of the shattered back-seat window of the Lincoln.
He had his torso halfway out. The only thing holding him inside were two other men. They looked as if they were trying to land an ocean-sized fish in the speeding vehicle.
“Look! Look there! The second car behind!” McGuiness pointed straight ahead. Inside the second car, children, a host of screaming kids, seemed to be fighting and struggling to get out.
“Godfuckingdamnit!” Joe Macchio growled even louder. He had been dreaming of Christmas Day and something of the peaceful spirit had created a glow inside him. Now all that was gone.
Sergeant Macchio and Patrolman McGuiness left their police cruiser with revolvers drawn. They cautiously approached the two sedans, now stopped against the southwest corner of 72nd. Other police blue and whites, sirens screaming, were already racing up 72nd from the direction of Broadway.
“We’re Federal agents.” A man in a dark suit burst out of the lead sedan. He was holding out a portfolio wallet and an official-looking badge.
“I don’t care if you’re the Commander-in-Chief of the United States Army,” Sergeant Macchio croaked in his most convincing street-cop voice. “What the hell’s going on here? Who the hell’s this guy? Why are all these kids screaming like somebody’s being murdered?”
A second dark-suited man stepped out of the trailing sedan. “I’m Victor Kenyon of the CIA, officer.” He said it calmly, but authoritatively. “I think I can explain this whole thing.”
Carroll was still half in, half out of the back window of the lead sedan. He was groggy, almost out on his feet. He hollered at the two police officers. “Hey! Pleaser His speech was slurred. “My kids…. They’re in danger … I’m a Federal officer …”
Sergeant Macchio couldn’t help himself—he started to laugh. “Not that I think this is funny, pal. You’re a Federal officer?”
Ten minutes later, the situation wasn’t any closer to being solved. Several more police blue and whites had arrived. So had cars from the New York FBI, and more from the CIA. There was a cluster of police officials on 72nd Street.
Two EMS ambulances had pulled up, but Caitlin and Mary Katherine wouldn’t let them take Carroll to Roosevelt Hospital, or any place else without them.
Caitlin was yelling at the policeman, telling them that she and Carroll were part of the Green Band investigation team. She had proof in her pocketbook.
The CIA agents had lots of impressive proof that they were who they said they were. The arguing continued on the corner of 72nd Street, getting more heated with every passing moment. It began to draw a New York sidewalk crowd.
Mickey Kevin Carroll finally sidled up to Sergeant Macchio, who had walked off to try to think the whole crazy thing out.
“Can I see your hat?” Mickey Kevin asked. “My dad’s a policeman. He doesn’t get to wear a hat.”
Joe Macchio looked down at the small boy, and offered a tired smile. “And which one is your dad?” he asked. “Is your dad here now?”
“That’s my dad.” Mickey Kevin pointed at the man slumped, seemingly sleeping on an EMS litter-cot, looking like Crusader Rabbit one final time.
“He’s a policeman, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
Well, that settled it for Sergeant Macchio