Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

Alex didn’t rush it. She felt a surge of confidence in her plan. She said, “If you have a few minutes, I’d love to talk about representing you.”

The girl smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah. I don’t have a stage call until after noon.”

“Great. Can I take you out to an early lunch somewhere close by?”

“Absolutely.” She was standing, gathering her purse.

As Alex started to turn, the young man who was sitting next to Juliana said, “I’m Cade Jason. Would you like to talk to me, too?”

Alex could recognize the smugness on this young man’s face. She couldn’t resist saying, “No, thank you.”

She was rewarded with a snicker by Juliana.

Everything was going as planned.

I almost regretted my stop at Holy Name. Not only did it give traffic a chance to build, I also had two passengers I’d have to drop off at the church again on my way back.

Sometimes dealing with my grandfather was like dealing with a child. It was easier to just give him his way.

Father Alonzo, sitting in the backseat, leaned forward and said, “How goes your investigation? Any leads on the men who tried to shoot us?”

I didn’t know how much I should say.

Father Alonzo said, “I’m sorry, but it just gave me a glimpse into my past life. Perhaps I miss the action more than I thought.”

I said, “Don’t worry about it, Alonzo. I know exactly how you feel. The biggest problem with the case is that, at the heart of it, it involves two organizations. The Canadian mob and the Mexican cartel.”

Alonzo said, “I have studied trends in organized crime for many years. Although Canadians don’t cause a great deal of problems in Colombia, I still know that they can be as ruthless as anyone. They’re also constantly underestimated. The stereotype of the polite Canadian doesn’t help them when they’re trying to scare people.”

I said, “But they’re no match for the Mexican cartel.”

“Agreed. Especially if the Mexicans are importing killers from Colombia. They have too much money and too large of an established network. I’m just sorry they decided to throw you in with their list of targets.”

“I’ve got a great team working on it with me. We’ll find this killer and keep her from causing any more havoc.”

Father Alonzo said, “It has been my experience that just as people underestimate the Canadian mob, they tend to underestimate female killers. There’s a reason she has this job. She has to be extremely smart and resourceful. This may be a tall order.”

“I’m not going to give up on it.”

“No — that’s not what I’m suggesting. You need to be ready all the time. She’ll try to hit you when you least expect it. Or she’ll be very sly and somehow lure you into a trap. You won’t know what happened until it’s too late.

“You must make use of your advantages. This is your territory. You know the city. Use what you know and she doesn’t.”

I thought about his Zen-like advice. I did have resources here and knowledge of the city that I doubted this killer possessed.

I just hoped when the time came, I would remember that.

Driving with my grandfather in the car is like having an uninvited know-it-all tour guide with you. He kept saying he didn’t get to lower Manhattan and Brooklyn much and wanted to see the sights. Not the Freedom Tower or the bull on Wall Street, but the little markets he used to frequent and the restaurants he knew were no longer in business. He said he just wanted to see the facades of the buildings.

He also explained everything we saw to Alonzo in minute detail. Like the history of how Little Italy evolved and the construction details of the Brooklyn Bridge. Finally I had to tell him I was on a schedule and that the NYPD expected me to work occasionally. But that didn’t stop him from making me circle the building where the TV show was being filmed.

Seamus said, “I’ve been here. I remember this place. It was a restaurant-supply distribution center I ordered from when I owned the bar.”

I said, “When’s the last time you were here?”

“Probably twelve or fifteen years ago. It brings back a flood of memories. I’d sometimes buy cases of beer that ‘fell off’ actual beer trucks. I could buy them for about 30 percent of the regular cost.”

“So you’re telling me you bought stolen beer and sold it in your legal bar?”

“Sometimes I’d tack on an extra fee, saying that there was a shortage of the beer and I was able to grab some of the last cases.” He wore a mischievous grin that made him look like a leprechaun.

It made me smile because it reminded me of when I was a child. How we would go on adventures together and he’d tell me wild tales that even then I knew weren’t true.

I was surprised to see that the side of the building facing the river housed a beautiful glass-enclosed set of offices with a receptionist at the front. The grassy park between the building and the river made it that much nicer. I wondered if this had anything to do with the TV or movie business. Maybe it was a separate part of the building the owner rented out. With the East River in front of it and some nice landscaping around the park, it was definitely upscale.

Seamus rolled down his window and said, “I don’t care what anyone says about the East River — I like the smell of it. Reminds me of home. The sea.”

As we slowly turned at the corner of the building and were driving next to the sidewalk, Seamus said, “I can’t wait to see Jules.”

I said, “Juliana.”

“She likes to be called Jules on the set.”

“How do you know that? Have you been on the set before?”

I stopped the car to stare at him as he looked sheepish and wouldn’t meet my eye.

A stagehand carrying a box on the sidewalk looked over and said, “Hey, Father.”

It was rare to catch the old man so cleanly. Now I gave him a good nod and said, “Explain that.”

Without missing a beat, Seamus said, “He’s your illegitimate uncle.”

“Funny.” I did note that Father Alonzo was laughing in the backseat. “You just said it had been a dozen years since you saw the building.”

Seamus said, “I meant it had been a dozen years since I saw the front of the building, by the river. I saw the rest last Friday when I watched them film a scene with Jules. She was fantastic. She’s really talented.”

Then I saw two women come out of the building’s door about fifty yards from us. It took me a moment to realize that one of them was my daughter.

Seamus said, “Who’s that with Jules?”

I didn’t recognize the striking woman with the long dark hair. She was chatting casually with Juliana, but there was something about her that seemed familiar.

I started to get an uneasy feeling. I pulled to the curb.

Alex Martinez smiled as she listened to this captivating young woman speak. She was very poised for an eighteen-year-old. She was also very excited that an agent was interested in talking to her about representation. Alex was sorry the girl’s dreams were about to come crashing down.

Getting her to leave the building had been remarkably easy. Even the timing was good. She was on a break, so Alex didn’t have to stand around and chat with someone who might know she didn’t work for the Grossman talent agency.

They were just coming to the heavy security door that led to the outside. Her plan was simple from there. Get the girl to her car, then make her call her father.

Alex had no intention of killing an innocent girl — unless she found herself in a situation where there was no other choice.

Just as they stepped out the door, the sun caused Alex to raise her hand and let her eyes adjust. Juliana said, “Would you mind if I called my dad real quick?”