Page 46 of Shielding his Legacy
“What? The jerky?” asked Sloan, taking a bite of the snack he’d brought with him. In the closed vehicle, the jerky smelled like a cross between dirty sweat socks and robust body odor.
Gavin had eaten none of it. “No, idiot. Not being with her while she plays bait to a goddamn piranha. And we’re thirty fucking minutes behind her.” He’d wanted to take thechopper, but a Nor’easter had setup over the east coast and flying wasn’t an option.
Trace chimed in, “We will be inside that building with a direct line into the interrogation room where Eva’s being interviewed. By the time the dirty cop makes his move, we’ll be in position to pounce. You’ve got nothing to worry about, DeGrey.”
They drove the rest of the way in near silence, with Sloan offering snacks like the host at a cocktail party, Gavin driving too fast, and Trace seemingly lost in his thoughts, one foot tapping to the music on a tiny pair of in-ear headphones.
Rush hour traffic was moving at a steady crawl in the opposite direction, leaving Gavin free to continue driving like a madman right through the Holland Tunnel. “You might wanna not get us all dead before we get there,” drawled Trace.
“You want to drive, Deliverance?” snapped Gavin.
“Sure thing, Slick.”
“Well too bad.” Gavin shook his head in frustration.
Sloan bent at the waist, rifling through a large khaki duffel at his feet. When he straightened, he held a small canvas satchel with a long strap.
“Jesus Christ, not the purse,” grumbled Trace.
Sloan fixed the strap around his waist. “It is not a purse, it’s a fanny pack. And it’suseful.”
Gavin couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “You look like my Grandpa Joe.”
Police headquarters showed on his GPS with the icon for a finish line flag. Gavin pulled down a steep incline into a parking garage that quickly became subterranean. The ceiling was barely six feet tall, and it gave the impression theunderground structure was on the verge of collapsing beneath the weight of the city above.
The sound of a loud zipper was followed by that of an inhaler being used. “I hate these coffin-motherfucking-parking-garages,” said Sloan.
“They’ve just started transmitting,” Champion said, urgency in his voice. “No sign of Eva yet.” The car spiraled down deeper into the earth as Gavin looked for a spot. Champion sighed. “And, we lost the transmission.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” quipped Sloan.
“Goddamn children,” Gavin muttered. “You’re both goddamn children.” Finding a spot, he parked and moved to get out.
“Leave your sidearm in the car,” said Champion. “No weapons in the police station.”
He was right, of course, but as Gavin took his Sig Sauer out of his ankle holster, he felt an acute sense of impending dread. If he could have snuck the weapon past a metal detector, he would have done it in a heartbeat. The trio jogged up to street level. “You back online?” Gavin barked.
Champion pulled out his cell phone. “Yes. Video feed’s live and Eva’s in the interrogation room. Looks like she’s waiting for them to begin.”
The men bobbed and weaved through pedestrian traffic, finally pushing into police headquarters. “We’re here to see Deputy Commissioner Jacoby,” said Gavin.
A uniformed officer behind the desk eyed them critically. “And you are?”
“Gavin DeGrey and company. He’s expecting us.”
The officer tapped a thin stack of papers on the desk, then lined up the corner in an automatic stapler like he was playing Operation and the motion had to be perfectly aligned. The machine let out a singleka-chunk.
Gavin took in the stack of collated papers to the officer’s left and seriously considered shaking the other man. He glanced at his nametag. “Officer Stenzel, it’s imperative we see the commissioner immediately.”
“Yeah,” said Trace, sounding like the right-hand man to a sixth-grade bully, and earning him an annoyed glance from Gavin.
Stenzel looked from one to the other, sighed, then picked up his phone and dialed an extension, waiting several seconds. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Gavin DeGrey.” Gavin was squirming with anxiety. Eva’s interview had probably begun. They needed to get in the commissioner’s office, now.
A woman spoke behind them. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”
He twisted around to find Marina, HERO Force’s therapist, walking by with a backpack slung over one shoulder. She leaned in as she passed, saying quietly, “Wonderful day for an ambush, don’t you think?” She winked and continued down the hall, stopping suddenly before going by Sloan. “Nice satchel,” she crooned.
