Ten Plagues

“What else did Higgins tell you? Does he have more information on the guy?”

“They ran the building occupants as soon as they got an address. One person rents the whole top floor.”

“Name?” Paul looked away from the traffic as he ran a stale yellow light. Horns honked but he floored it and raced on.

“He didn’t have that yet. Even in a run-down tenement, how can anyone afford to rent a whole floor?”

“He had money,” Paul remembered. “We checked his bank accounts that he’d emptied.”

“This is close enough.” Keren unhooked her seat belt before they came to a complete stop, prepared to hog-tie Paul to keep him from going in before SWAT arrived.

“He’s hurting her. Right now, he’s in there torturing Wilma.” Paul pulled up well away from the building and stared at it as if he could bore a hole in the wall with his eyes and see where Wilma was.

Keren wondered how long she could keep him in the car. She wondered how long she could keep herself in the car.

“So a rich man lives on the fifth floor of that wreck of a building,” Keren said, craning her neck to see to the top. “He’s got a clear view of two sides of the mission, and it’s tall enough he can see most of what’s going on, on the other sides.”

“And with a telescope set up in the right place, he could watch most of what he’s sent me to do. He saw me plow into Wilma that first morning he contacted me. Wilma.” Paul fell silent.

“Is she a friend?” Keren laid her hand on Paul’s shoulder.

Paul shrugged. He rested his elbow on the open window and ran his hand over his face. “Kind of. I tried to be a friend. She had … has … mental problems, and she solves them by guzzling a bottle or two of mouthwash every day.”

“Mouthwash? She drinks Listerine?”

“Not Listerine. It costs too much. She buys generic. You can get a two-quart bottle for a dollar. It’s about 75 percent alcohol. They all drink that or plain-label cough syrup. Some even drink rubbing alcohol. It’ll all give you a buzz. They buy it at a discount store a couple of blocks over. I asked the store manager to quit stocking it, but he refused. He said they’d just walk until they found it. And I know he’s right.”

“So Wilma is really one of the hard-core homeless,” Keren said thoughtfully. “Not the type he’s been going after at all.”

“Do you think we could get some tracking devices and put them on some of the homeless people without their knowledge?” His knee started bouncing up and down. Keren could see his patience running out. “We could see if Caldwell grabs them and get to them before he hurts them.”

“We’re going to get him, Paul. We won’t have to track anyone.”

Paul grabbed for the door handle.

Keren clutched his collar.

Higgins pulled up beside them and rolled down his driver’s-side window. “I’ve got cars in place on all four sides of the building. We’ll secure the exits, double-check the basement for one of his bombs, then go in.”

A radio crackled in Higgins’s car. He lifted the handset and talked quietly; then he hung it up and said, “SWAT’s here. We’ve got to wait for the all clear before we can go in.”

A parade of black-clothed, heavily-armed SWAT team members stormed the building.

Keren thought she’d explode from the maddening wait. Finally Higgins got the go-ahead.

Higgins talked rapidly on his radio. “SWAT reported that the basement was clear of explosives. Let’s go.” Higgins reached the door, swung it open, and went in ahead of a dozen other men. Paul and Keren were left for last.

“I should have asked Higgins for a gun,” Paul said through his clenched teeth.

“Get a grip.” Keren didn’t like bringing up the rear either. But this was Higgins’s show. “He’d never give you one. And you don’t need it.”

“He might have.” Paul glanced at Keren. His eyes were as cold as his voice. “I can be pretty persuasive.”

They ran quickly and quietly up the five flights of stairs. The whole building was a slum. More apartments empty than lived in. Graffiti on the walls, broken light fixtures, and shattered glass littering the hallways. They got to Caldwell’s floor and it was no better, except the doors were all hung and closed.

Higgins went up to the first one and tried it. He whispered, “Locked.”

He turned to the dozen men who had accompanied him. “I want every door kicked open at the same time. Don’t go charging in without backup.”

“Ready?” There were five doors on both sides of the hallway. Two men stood at each door. Keren and Paul stood back, out of the way, near the door Higgins had chosen.

“Go!” Higgins’s voice exploded. Ten doors crashed open.

“FBI,” Higgins shouted. The same shout echoed down the hall. Higgins disappeared. Keren and Paul went in right behind him.

“This is it,” Paul said to Keren. “We’ve got him.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They missed him.

Every room was wide open. There was no place to hide. There was no killer.