The Darkness - Jason Pinter [42]
lengthy response, a beautiful gem that would perhaps
unravel the spool just a little more, his cell phone rang.
When Kaiser looked at it, I could have sworn his face
went pale. He shoved it back into his pocket, looked at
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Jason Pinter
me and said, "Goodbye, Mr. Parker," and walked inside
the building and disappeared into the elevator.
I stood there, trembling, angry that I had felt so close
to getting him. Don came up to me and said, "Sweet
guy, ain't he?"
"Yeah, he's going on my Christmas list for sure." I
watched as the elevator light clicked, bringing Brett
Kaiser to the twentieth floor. I eyed the windows facing
the street. No doubt Kaiser had a great view. Then the
curtains were drawn closed, and I figured Brett Kaiser
was looking for a little privacy.
"Thanks, Don. I appreciate the help. Keep up the good
work, and thanks for being agreeable."
Don laughed. "Gotta tell my wife that one. 'Honey,
a reporter told me I was agreeable.' Not sure if that will
win me points at the dinner table, but it's a good conversation piece."
"The least I could do," I said. "Take it easy, Don."
I walked to the corner, thinking about my next move.
I wasn't going back quite empty-handed. Even in his
non-answer, Brett Kaiser had confirmed that he was well
aware of 718 Enterprises. I believed him when he said he
didn't know about Stephen Gaines. If my brother was
involved in some sort of drug trade, his work on the street
was twenty floors below Brett Kaiser's penthouse.
I was about to call Jack when I felt my cell phone vibrate.
Assuming it was Jack calling me, I took it out, looked at
the caller ID. I didn't recognize the number, but it was from
a 646 area code. It wasn't Jack; he had a 917. Might have
been somebody from Kaiser's firm calling to threaten me,
could have been a wrong number. Either way it seemed like
a good time to screen my calls. I didn't want to waste any
time on a conversation that wasn't vital to the investigation.
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121
When the phone stopped vibrating, I waited for the
little envelope to appear that signaled I had voice mail. I
called it, plugged in my security code and listened.
And at the first word, my blood ran cold. I knew that
voice. Hadn't heard it in a long time, but there was no way
I'd ever forget it. I hadn't spoken to her in almost a year,
when I was dragged kicking and screaming from her office
after she'd tried to ruin the life of the man I admired most.
It was Paulina Cole.
"Henry, this is Paulina. You know the last name, so I
won't keep you. We need to talk. Off the record. It's important. You know damn well it's important because you
can bet I don't like calling you any more than you like
hearing this message. But we need to talk."
She left her cell phone number and home phone number. Not her work number. I couldn't believe her audacity
in calling me, but the fact that she only left her private
lines clearly meant something was up. Something she
didn't want her bosses at the Dispatch involved in.
And while I was making my mind up whether to call
her back, Brett Kaiser's apartment exploded in a massive
orange fireball that shot flaming debris half a block and
cascaded smoke down upon Park Avenue.
16
"Who was that?" Morgan asked.
Chester closed the phone, putting it gently back into
his coat pocket. He looked at Morgan blankly and said,
"Just checking my voice mail." He then offered a smile.
"I didn't hear voice mail pick up," Morgan added.
"You one of those dogs, hear high-frequency pitches
and everything?" Chester asked.
The Town Car hit a bump, and Morgan gripped the
armrest. "No."
"Well, that's too bad. Because when dogs hear something, they don't ask questions. But if they start barking,
that's when their owner is bound to get upset. You get
me, Morgan?"
"I get you."
"Good," Chester said. He looked out the window. They
were heading toward the Queens-bound midtown tunnel.
Morgan could make out the East River, Roosevelt Island.
Morgan had never considered living outside of the