Judge & Jury - James Patterson [44]
Cavello furrowed his brow. “I’m trying to think, do I know them?”
“We have the murder weapon, Dom. A couple of clammers uncovered it. After all these months, there it was, buried in the sand. Ballistics confirmed it. It’s the gun that killed the two agents. You’re going down for it, Dom. It’s a match.”
The jocular grin slowly started to fade from Cavello’s face, replaced by a look of serious concern. This was a capital offense, and the murder weapon sealed it. “Clammers, huh? Imagine that. You look like you won the lottery, Pellisante. You wanna let me in on the joke?”
“The joke is I’m going to see you at trial next week, you piece of shit. And here’s some other news. It’s going to take place at Fort Dix army base in New Jersey. The trial will be closed to the public. Totally secure.
“The jury will be secret and sequestered on the base. This time, you won’t be able to get to anyone. We’ve got you, Dom. U.S. Attorney Goldenberger is waiting outside with the indictments now.”
It was my turn to smile. A smile I’d waited more than two years to give him. “How’s that for sour apples, Dom?”
Cavello just stared back at me. He scratched his chin. “An army base, huh? Fort Dix. Isn’t that where all the explosives are, Nicky boy? Could be a real blast!”
Chapter 52
RICHARD NORDESHENKO STEPPED UP to the immigration booth marked VISITORS at JFK. He pushed his passport and visa through the slot.
“Kollich.” The black, heavyset immigration agent leafed through his documents. He typed in the name. “Can I ask you to please place your index finger on the pad?”
Nordeshenko complied. He wasn’t worried. This time he was Estonian. His name was Stephan Kollich. Pharmaceuticals. As the agent went through his passport, he would find that the travel-weary businessman had been to the United States many times.
The past five months had been trying ones for Nordeshenko. Pavel had been sick. At first it was thought to be the flu. Then it was diagnosed as diabetes, type one. After months of treatment, they finally had it under control. Then Nordeshenko’s leg began to worsen. His old Chechen wound, the shrapnel finally taking its toll. These long trips killed him. He shifted uncomfortably. He even had to wear special shoes.
Now he had to do this Cavello job all over again. And he’d done so well the first time.
“Business or pleasure, Mr. Kollich?” the immigration officer asked, double-checking the face in the documents against Nordeshenko’s.
“Business is my pleasure,” Nordeshenko replied. The officer smiled.
This time it promised to be messy. He would have to put himself on the line, use all the skills he had learned. He already had his plan in motion. Reichardt, the South African, was already here in New York.
Preparation was Nordeshenko’s trademark—what he had made his reputation on. And never once had he taken a job that he did not complete.
The immigration agent picked up his stamp. “How long will you be staying in the United States, Mr. Kollich?”
“Only a few days.” That was the one thing he would say that was definitely not a lie.
The agent stamped his passport. He folded the documents together and pushed them back through the slot with a nod.
“Welcome to the United States, Mr. Kollich.”
Chapter 53
“I’VE GOT NEWS,” I said to Andie DeGrasse over the phone.
I wanted to tell her about my visit to Cavello, the new indictments. I wanted to keep the hope alive that if we’d found something on Manny and Ed after all this time, there had to be something out there on the bus explosion. At least that’s how I was rationalizing it. The truth was, I’d been thinking about her a lot over the past few days. The truth was, I wanted to see her again.
“You like paella, Pellisante?” asked Andie after I’d given her my news.
“I like paella, sure,” I said. On weekends with Ellen, I wasn’t above rolling up my sleeves and putting dinner together myself. “In fact, I’d go to heaven for a good paella.”
“Then how does tomorrow sound? Around seven? I want to hear