Robin Cook - Critical

Adam broke off, backed up, and quickly climbed back into the Range Rover. He started the engine, and then tossed Angelo's gun out into First Avenue where it was repeatedly run over. He then pulled from the curb and accelerated down First Avenue.

"HOLY SHIT," Arthur MacEwan cried. "Did you see that?"

"I never saw anybody move so quickly," Ted Polowski said. "It was unbelievable. And look at Angelo. He's having trouble getting up."

"There goes Franco. He's got the gun."

Arthur and Ted had followed Angelo and Franco into Manhattan, and when the two had pulled up behind the silver Range Rover and parked, Arthur and Ted had gone around the block and pulled over to the curb at a hydrant on 30th Street. From there, they had a good view of the blue van, and they settled in for what they thought might be a long wait. But it turned out not to be the case. Almost immediately, a white van pulled up behind the blue one, and Ted, who knew most of the Lucia people, recognized Richie Herns as the driver. And then it was only a few minutes later that Angelo had bounded out of his vehicle to confront the guy in the Range Rover.

Still shaking his head over what he had just witnessed, Arthur called Carlo, who, along with Brennan, was having lunch with the boss, Louie. "You'll never believe what we just saw," he said excitedly. He then went on to describe the shellacking Angelo had just suffered from a guy in a Range Rover who Angelo had tried to pick a fight with. "You would not believe how fast this guy was," Arthur continued excitedly. "Angelo didn't stand a chance. Angelo even pulled a gun, but the guy knocked it out of his hand, then threw it out into the street. I'm telling you, it was unbelievable."

"Where are you?"

"We're across the street from the city morgue in Manhattan."

"City morgue?" Carlo questioned "Why the hell the city morgue?

"We don't have the foggiest idea."

"Why did Angelo pick a fight?"

"No clue about that, either."

"Is Angelo okay?"

"I think so. He's walking a little strange, but he's getting into the blue van just now."

"Hang on," Carlo said. "Let me tell Louie about this."

Arthur could hear Carlo relate the story, and Louie's bewildered reaction.

Carlo came back on the line. "Louie wants to know if you recognized the guy."

"No," Arthur said. "But his Range Rover had the name of a business called Bieder-something Heaven."

"Any phone number or address?"

"We couldn't see from where we were. The lettering was too small, but there was several more lines of print."

"Do you know if Franco is there as well?"

"Oh, yeah! He's here. He tried to stop Angelo from bothering the guy, and after the scuffle, he went out and got Angelo's gun from the middle of the street. Oh, one other thing. There's a second van, too, parked just behind Angelo and Franco's. Whoa. Angelo's started the blue van. I'm going to have to sign off here. Nope! False alarm! Angelo just pulled up a car length to be on the corner, and Richie's pulling up behind him. There's someone else in Richie's van, but we don't know who it is. Should one of us walk over there and check it out?"

"No! Absolutely not. They don't expect anyone to be watching, and we don't want them to have any reason to believe so. Hold on again. Let me tell Louie the rest of this weird story."

Once again, Arthur could hear Carlo relate the details, but he couldn't hear Louie's responses. Carlo came back on the line. "Louie said you're doing a good job. He wants you to stay with them. Later this afternoon, Brennan and I will come over and relieve you."

"Sounds good," Arthur said.

CARLO PUT HIS phone back in his jacket pocket and looked across at Louie. Louie stared back. His fleshy face was scrunched together, his brow deeply knitted. It was obvious he was deep in thought. Carlo and Brennan knew enough to stay silent and eat their pasta.

Finally, Louie broke the silence and took the napkin away from his neck where he'd poked it under his collar. "I don't understand any of this, but what I do understand is that it's got to stop. They are acting weird to say the least, knocking people off and brawling in broad daylight on a Manhattan street. And what's this about the city morgue?"

Carlo and Brennan knew Louie well enough not to respond until Louie directly asked them a question. Louie had always had a propensity to think out loud. As Louie heaved his considerable bulk out of the chair and began to pace, Carlo and Brennan exchanged a glance, wondering what was coming.

Louie wandered over to the bar, continuing his dialogue. After mindlessly playing with a shot glass full of toothpicks for several minutes, he came back to the table. "You guys are sure there was no company at the Trump Tower that you recognized when you stopped there this morning?"

Carlo and Brennan both shook their heads.

"Get a phone book!" Louie ordered Brennan. Dutifully, Brennan left his seat to bring a phone book to the table. "Try to look up Bieder-something Heaven!" Louie ordered when Brennan returned.

Louie looked at Carlo. "If they keep up this irresponsible behavior, we're going to have the entire NYPD out here on our backs sooner or later. What do you think?"

Carlo nodded. Since he was asked a specific question, he said, "They are taking big chances, so it must be important business."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I mean, that detective came all the way out here to warn us."

"Nothing in the phone book," Brennan reported.

"I didn't think there would be," Louie said. "Not with a guy who could handle Angelo Facciolo so easily. The name's undoubtedly a cover."

"Do you think they could have been waiting at the city morgue for the same thing?" Brennan asked, risking putting in his own two cents. "I mean, why would Angelo pick a fight with someone in broad daylight unless there was competition or some sort of existing bad feelings?"

"Good thought," Louie said. "I'm glad we're watching them. I'd like to know what's going on, but if they knock off someone else, I'm going to let that detective know we're not involved."

AFTER THE ADRENALINE rush evoked by Angelo, it took Adam a while to calm down, but by the time he arrived at the hotel, he was composed enough to think clearly about the unfortunate and totally unexpected incident. Although nothing untoward had happened, it still could if someone had observed the altercation and had called the police with a description of Adam's Range Rover. Consequently, Adam was disappointed in himself for not having driven off immediately. He certainly did not get any secondary gain from the useless confrontation – in fact, quite the contrary.

"Will you be needing your car soon, Mr. Bramford?" the doorman said, opening Adam's driver's-side door.

"No, thank you," Adam said as he alighted. He specifically wanted the car put into the garage.

Adam went up to his room. He needed to make a call and did not want to use his cell. He wanted a landline. One of the fallouts of his one-sided fight was a reluctance to return to the OCME area for fear of again running into the smartly dressed thug.

Seated at a desk in the changing room of his junior suite, Adam placed his call. The protocol was for him to ask for a fictitious individual by the name of Charles Palmer and then be given another number to call. Once he had the second number, he'd leave his direct-dial number. At that point, he had to wait. The return call usually came within a minute.

There was no small talk when Adam spoke to one of his handlers. "I'm in need of a home address," he said, without reference even to a name. Adam didn't have to question if the information could or could not be obtained. With his handlers' access to the highest levels of government, it was always available.

"We will have it in a few minutes. You'll have it on your BlackBerry."