The Steel Kiss

But he didn’t have access to anything like that and he sure wasn’t going to ask Amelia to search for him. He was already pushing the limits there.

He skimmed the data he’d downloaded. Nick had been hoping “J” was somebody involved in law enforcement, with a knowledge of the hijacking operations back when he’d been arrested. But none of the men were law enforcement. The next best thing—somebody with underworld ties (even though he knew he’d need to be very, very careful about contacting them). That didn’t pan out either, though. Jenkins had been arrested—misdemeanor and a long time ago. Two others had been the subject of civil investigations—SEC in one case, IRS in the other—but nothing came of these.

Nick sat back and sipped his lukewarm coffee. A glance at the clock. The work had taken three hours. A ton of info but nothing to show for it.

Okay. Think better. Think like a gold shield. Sure, the list could be useless and Stan Von had pulled together enough random names to buy himself an over-breaded chicken Parmesan. But it’s all you got, the lists, so work it. Just like the flimsiest lead on the street, the way you used to do. Turn it to something sweet.

He decided to look more carefully into the businesses the men operated or were employed by; were any of them more likely than others to have a potential connection to hijacking or receiving stolen? Von’s list didn’t have all of their outfits but Nick was able to find most of the others. Transportation and wholesale companies were the heart of hijacking operations but there were none of those. (Battaglia’s operation was used car sales and repair.) Jackie Carter, who owned a franchise of self-storage facilities, seemed like a possibility. And Jon Perone’s J&K Financial Services intrigued him; they might’ve lent money to any number of people involved in shady deals. And Johnson’s consulting business? Who knew what they were up to?

Nick took a long slug of tepid coffee. The cup froze in midair. He set it down and sat forward, staring at the list. He laughed. Oh, man. How did I miss it? How the hell did I miss it?

He read: Jon Perone, J&K Financial, Queens.

Fi NANCI al.

“Nanci” wasn’t a wife or girlfriend. It was from the name of his company. The detective’s faded notes were to blame for his misreading.

Nick was suddenly filled with the thrill he remembered from his days running cases, when you had a breakthrough like this.

Okay, Mr. Perone, who exactly are you? He’d found no suggestion of any criminal activity. Perone seemed to be upstanding, a legit businessman, generous, a giver-back to the community, active in the church. Still, Nick would have to be careful. He couldn’t risk linking his own name with the man’s if Perone were, in fact, involved in any underworld activity. He remembered his promise to Amelia.

If there’s anybody who can help me and there’s any risk, or even it looks like they’re connected, I’ll use, you know, an intermediary to contact them, a friend…

He found his phone and called Freddy Caruthers.

CHAPTER 40

Ron Pulaski stared at the Gutiérrez file sitting between him and Amelia Sachs.

He fidgeted in the chair across the table from her in their war room.

Hell. Why hadn’t he checked to see if Gutiérrez was still around? There was an answer to that: Mostly because he believed nobody would know or care what he was up to.

Got that one wrong, didn’t I?

Hell.

“Ron. Work with me here. What’s going on?”

“Have you talked to IA?”

“No. Not yet. Of course not.”

But he knew that if she found he’d committed a crime, she’d report him to Internal Affairs in an instant. That was something about Amelia. She’d bend regs. But when you stepped over the razor wire of the New York Penal Code, that was a sin. Unforgivable.

And so he sat back, sighed and told her the truth. “Lincoln shouldn’t quit.”

She blinked, not understanding where this was going.

He could hardly blame her. “He shouldn’t. It’s just wrong.”

“I agree. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. Let me explain. You know what happened. He pushed the Baxter case too far.”

“I know the facts. What—?”

“Let me finish. Please.”

Funny about beauty, Pulaski was thinking. Amelia Sachs was no less beautiful than yesterday but now it was the beauty of ice. He looked past her out the window, unable to stand the beam of her eyes.