David Baldacci - Daylight

Shit, shit, shit.

She knew that Puller had signed on for the risk when he joined CID. She knew that. She had done that when she suited up for the FBI. But, still, she felt deep guilt for what had happened. Could she have eyeballed that alley more intently? If she had focused more, could she have seen the shooter or maybe sensed his presence? Puller had relied on her to clear the alley, and she had failed him.

I failed John Puller. And now, maybe he won’t be the same John Puller.

Utterly demoralized, she stopped and slumped down on a bench. Slapping her thigh, she sat up straighter, rubbed her face, and thought, Okay, this sorry-for-me shit is not going to cut it. Start dissecting this case. What are the holes and how do you plug them?

Well, the holes were many. She was no closer to finding Tony Vincenzo and thus just as far away from any information about his grandfather, Ito. Teddy was dead. Evie could be of no help. She had no leads on finding the man who had murdered Jerome, although now she did know about Jewel’s involvement, and the uses to which that luxury apartment was being put; only she didn’t yet understand the motives behind it. And she doubted that Jewel was the only underage girl who had been recruited for whatever was going on there. And, last but not least, the vile Lindsey Axilrod was out there somewhere. She was up to her slender neck in this, including the murder of Sheila Weathers.

But what was the connection to Fort Dix? Tony Vincenzo and Axilrod both worked there. As did Weathers. If Weathers was involved only because Vincenzo had invited her to the penthouse, then that left Vincenzo and Axilrod. But what was so special about Fort Dix?

The penthouse on Fifty-Seventh Street was definitely a clue, but she just wasn’t sure how she could follow it up. She didn’t have enough for a search warrant.

But what about Jeff Sands?

She pulled out her phone and scanned the news sites. There was nothing. The grandson of the Senate majority leader was violently gunned down in New York City more than a day before, and not one news outlet had reported it? How could that possibly be?

Unless the NYPD was sitting on his ID for some reason. She figured if the Trenton cops could be co-opted, why not New York’s finest? Or at least some of them.

She punched in a number and a few seconds later was transferred to the person she wanted at the Bureau.

“Sandy, it’s Atlee Pine. I know, it’s been a long time, right. Look, could you do me a favor? There was a shooting victim the other night outside a diner in Brooklyn. The vic’s name was Jeff Sands. He’s the grandson of Peter Driscoll. Right, that Peter Driscoll. I haven’t heard a thing about it in the press and I was just wondering what the hell was going on. Okay, yeah, whatever you can find out. Thanks.”

She clicked off. Sandy Wyatt was an agent in the New York Field Office. She and Pine had gone to Quantico together. They had been close and had kept in touch over the years, even though Pine had headed west while Wyatt had stayed on the east coast. They were both members of WIFLE, which was an acronym for Women in Federal Law Enforcement. To her credit Wyatt had not asked about Pine’s interest in the case. She would have afforded Wyatt the same courtesy if their positions had been reversed.

Pine got up and started walking again. Her path carried her to the building on Fifty-Seventh Street. Billionaires’ Row. Billionaires’ Heavenly Perch, more like it. They lived far above the rest of us, thought Pine. Behind doormen and concierges and trust funds and shell companies and the rules they created that gave them every possible advantage over everyone else.

Getting on your soapbox is not going to help, Atlee.

She stood across the street from the building when her attention was suddenly riveted. She quickly moved behind a parked truck and then peered around it to keep watching.

The man who had shot Jerome Blake was coming out of the building. He was wearing a suit and tie, and no cop’s hat, but it was definitely him. He looked right and left, then headed down the street.

Pine followed.

CHAPTER

49

CHEER UP, I’M NOT DEAD YET, BOBBY.”

Robert Puller sat bolt upright in his chair, where he’d been dozing.

His brother was now staring at him from under the layer of tubes and lines.

“You’re supposed to be heavily sedated,” said Robert, drawing his chair nearer the bed. “Yesterday, the doctor said he upped your meds.”

“I have a higher tolerance than most.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Again, higher tolerance.”

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“Just a guess, but I think I got shot.”

Robert smiled. “Okay, jokes are good. That means you’re functioning at a high level.”

“And Jeff Sands?”

“He didn’t make it. The shot that hit you killed him.” Robert leaned forward. “It was close, John. Another inch here or there.”

“Don’t you have an important job to do really far away from here, or is that just a rumor?”

“Excuse me for caring.”

Puller shifted a little bit in his bed. He stared at all the tubes and lines holding him down. “Why do I feel like Gulliver after he got jumped by the Lilliputians?”

“Do you remember anything about what happened?”

“We stepped out into the rear of the diner. Pine was in the lead. I had hold of Sands. I think I heard a pop. And that’s pretty much it.”

“They were obviously targeting him.”

“They must have followed us from the nightclub where we picked Sands up.” Puller looked confused for a moment. “But the guys outside the club were a couple of thugs. I don’t think they’re involved in what happened to Sands.”

“And who exactly do you think is involved?”

Puller looked at his brother. “Well, since it looks like I’m going to be laid up here for a bit, you want to pitch in?”

“Pitch in? As you said, I do have another job.”

“Well, so long as you’re here to hold my hand it might take your mind off other things.”

“I’m listening.”

“You got me to Gloria Miles and she led us to Jeff Sands pretty fast. Miles mentioned you found her through an algorithm?”

Robert went over the algorithm he’d used, as he had already explained to Pine.

Puller nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll have to keep you in mind in future investigations.”

“I have access to technology, databases, and computer networks that the average person doesn’t. But I can’t do that all the time, not even for you, Junior.”

“But you had to feed the algorithm to get anywhere.”

“I just explained to you the factors I loaded in. I pinpointed certain political leadership, and then degrees of separation vis-à-vis family members to see what would pop. Jeff Sands came up and then it was pretty easy to trace the connection to Driscoll.”

“Sands popped up because of his criminal background?”

“As I’m sure you know, he’s never been convicted. But he has been brought in and questioned a number of times. And he has certain business associates who do have criminal records, or at least questionable pasts. My data load factors covered those possibilities.”

“But then his grandfather got the best lawyers involved, and nothing came of it?”

“Apparently so.”

“He told us he didn’t know Tony Vincenzo. Did that name ever pop up in your digging?”

“No. But I stopped pretty much after I got to Peter Driscoll. Then I looked for a connection to the military, and that’s how I got to Gloria Miles.”

“Do you think Driscoll knows his grandson is dead?” asked Puller.

“The Senate majority leader is not without his resources. And at the very least efforts would have been made by NYPD to notify the next of kin. It would take them all of ten seconds. Hell, his father lives right here in New York.”