The Midnight Caller (Jack Widow Book 6) Read online

“Edward and Farmer aren’t what they seem?”

  “No. I trusted Edward and told him who I was. Who I really was. He told Farmer and they both convinced me that they could help me and my father get out of Russia.”

  “Let me guess. Farmer asked you to set up communications with your father?”

  She nodded.

  “What else did he promise?”

  “Farmer promised that he could arrange for my father and me to go under protection in exchange for the submarine.”

  Widow said, “Sounds like Clancy.”

  “Who?”

  “You know. The book by Tom Clancy. The Hunt for Red October.”

  “Yes! I know this book! It’s one of my father’s favorites.”

  “I bet he knew that.”

  Eva said, “You think so?”

  “Of course, CIA guys don’t just show up by chance like that. They identified you before you and Edward even met. They knew exactly what they were doing.”

  She nodded, said, “Those are his guys that kidnapped me?”

  Widow nodded.

  She shook her head and said, “I feel so stupid.”

  “I wouldn’t. You wanted to have a better life for you and your father. I can understand that.”

  She looked down in shame.

  “You love this guy?”

  “Yes. I think I did.”

  She had said it without hesitation.

  Silence.

  Widow said, “What exactly was the plan?”

  “Farmer told me that I was to go about my business for a week or so. Then I was to tell my father the plan and get his answer.”

  “He agreed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what?”

  “I was told to come here and wait. Farmer gave me coordinates to relay to my father. They were supposed to meet.”

  “Where?”

  “The middle of the Arctic Ocean.”

  Widow said, “So, let me guess, the deal was this Farmer guy gets the submarine and you and your father get your freedom?”

  “Yes. And now I’m here.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why the hell does Farmer want this submarine?”

  She shrugged and said, “Because it’s nuclear. I guess.”

  “No. We got nuclear subs. Better than yours. In terms of submariner warfare and technology, the US Navy has the best.”

  Eva said nothing.

  “No offense.”

  She shrugged.

  Why the hell would the CIA want a Russian one?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “There must be something else. What do you know about the sub?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know anything about them. Just what I told you. It’s nuclear.”

  Widow nodded and stood up. He paced to the center of the room and then over to the window. The drapes dangled and wafted slightly. He peered out and looked down at the courtyard.

  “The good news is, no cops. They would’ve already been here. NYPD is pretty fast.”

  Eva asked, “So, what do I do now?”

  “What about Edward?”

  “What about him?”

  “You know where he lives?”

  “Of course. I’ve been staying there five nights a week for the last month.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So, where is it?”

  “He lives on the Upper East Side.”

  Widow smirked and said, “Not bad.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “For a guy who is a college student and a fireman, the Upper East Side is an expensive spot to live. Does he live with roommates?”

  “No.”

  “It didn’t strike you as odd that a guy on his dime can afford an apartment on his own?”

  “It’s a family-owned loft. Lots of people live here who have owned the same apartments forever.”

  Widow said nothing to that.

  “You think I’m stupid?”

  “Not at all. I think you had feelings for this guy.”

  She nodded.

  “Love can be a real son of a bitch.”

  She nodded again.

  “What about your handler? Who is he?

  “He’s a she.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Widow said, “I’m trying to help you.”

  Eva was quiet.

  “Look, I’m not one of the bad guys here. Obviously. You called me. How could I have faked that?”

  “Her American name is Sarah Walsman. She’s a partner in a law firm down on Forty-Second Street.”

  “Is she American?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is she like you? She’s here on a visa?”

  “No. She’s Russian-born with American citizenship. She’s been here most of her life.”

  “Do you know where she is?” Widow asked.

  “Not this time of night.”

  “No home address?”

  “No.”

  “How do you contact her?”

  “By a secure phone number.”

  Widow paused a moment and then he said, “What about this Edward guy?”

  “What about him?”

  “You remember his address?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then that’s our next stop.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. We can’t wait. I’d bet the guys who kidnapped you will probably have to check in with this Farmer guy and when they don’t he will know something’s wrong. We should go.”

  Widow stood up, finished his bottle of water and said, “Want anything else to eat? We’re not returning to this room again.”

  Eva drank the rest of her water, finished off the protein bar. She got up.

  “What about your stuff?”

  “Don’t have any.”

  She said nothing to that.

  Widow carried both weapons, one still in his pocket and the other tucked in the back of his waistband.

  Before they left, he picked up his sweater, but did not put it on.

  “Here. You should wear this. It’s chilly out.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’ll be fine for now.”

  She nodded and took it. Which was fine with him since she was in a skirt that was barely there and he still had chinos, boots, and a t-shirt.

  They walked out of the hotel room and out of the hotel. No one noticed.

  CHAPTER 26

  WIDOW STAYED CLOSE to Eva as they stepped out of a random cab and onto the curb of East Seventy-Eight Street, her directions to her boyfriend’s apartment.

  The wind blew between the remaining leaves on a single thin, brown tree.

  Widow heard sounds of cars whooshing in the distance on FDR Drive. He heard the ambient noises of a busy, dark city night.

  “That’s it. On the corner,” Eva said.

  Widow looked, casually, and then glanced around the street.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone is here staking the place out.”

  Eva nodded. She’d done the same thing, only much more anonymously and, probably, with more thoroughness. She was a trained spy, after all.

  “Okay. Let me go in first and check it out.”

  Eva said nothing.

  Widow looked around and saw a Seven Eleven type of all-night convenience store less than a block away, toward the west.

  “Over there. Come on. Let’s go over to that convenience store.”

  “What? No way!”

  “This isn’t a time to argue. What if there’s someone here somewhere? They’ll recognize you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Forget about it. I’m not your woman in distress.”

  Widow stared at her in disbelief. Had he come off as a chauvinist? He hoped not.

  But he did not apologize.

  “I’m only trying to do this the right way.”

  “Look, this is
my ass. Not yours. If Edward betrayed me, I’m going to get to speak to him about this! Not you!”

  Widow held his hands up, in a universal “I give up” sort of way.

  “Okay. Fine,” he said.

  “Good.”

  Although, Widow’s way was safer, he couldn’t say that he blamed her. She had met a man, trusted him, and he had almost literally stabbed her in the back.

  If a woman had done that to him, he too would’ve stepped up and confronted her. No question.

  Widow headed toward the building on the corner that she had pointed to.

  She followed him down the sidewalk. They stopped at a four-way intersection and crossed over the street.

  They stopped at a side alley, too small for a dump truck, but wide enough for him to almost stretch his arms out and not touch both sides.

  He gazed down it, his hand behind his back, fingers touching the butt of the Maxim 9 stuffed into his waistband.

  There was a chain-link fence, about ten feet high, linked up the wall, blocking anyone from strolling into the alley. He saw various pipes and grates. There was one backdoor into the building that they were interested in, but it was padlocked.

  The alley was empty.

  They walked up the steps to the front door entrance. There was a key code lock. All numbers.

  “What’s the code?”

  Eva didn’t answer him. She just brushed past him and entered the numbers in a four-digit sequence.

  “That’s it,” Eva said and the front door made a loud, grating sound. She reached up and jerked the knob and pulled the door open, wide.

  Widow grabbed the Maxim 9, again ready to brandish it, but kept it hidden. He figured that the whole building probably wasn’t CIA or whoever these guys were.

  The inner lobby area of the building had high concrete ceilings and a long, white leather couch and a metal book shelf and various abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

  There were a couple of thick, concrete pillars half-embedded into the walls.

  He saw a single thick, brown counter that wrapped completely around a guy sitting in a chair, leaning back like his feet were up on a desktop that wasn’t visible from where Widow and Eva were standing.

  He was looking down, playing on a smartphone, Widow figured.

  Another one, he thought.

  Suddenly, he pictured what would happen if one of his guys or team members had been caught playing with his phone back in the Navy.

  The guard immediately recognized Eva and sat up straight, like he was at attention and said, “Good morning, Miss Johannsen.”

  He knew her.

  Another thing surprised Widow.

  Suddenly, Eva Karpov spoke, only any trace of her Russian accent had completely vanished. Her pronunciation of English had improved, dramatically. It wasn’t perfect conversational American. It still stood out that she was a foreigner, but where she was from was more of a guessing game.

  If Widow hadn’t known any better, he would’ve guessed that she was British. Not that she was using a British accent. It was only because out of all of the English-speaking people of the world, the Brits were the best at blending in with Americans. He had met a dialect coach once, a guy back in Glynco, Georgia, the NCIS training grounds, who had taught agents on various dialects and how to disguise them. At the end of the course, the guy revealed that he was British and they hadn’t realized it the whole year.

  When Widow entered the course, everyone in the class had presumed he was from Virginia. He had perfected that deep rural Virginia accent.

  Eva said, “Hi, Gerald. How is it tonight?”

  “Everything’s been quiet. How are you?”

  Eva nodded and said, “Good. I’m just going to go on up.”

  The security guard named Gerald gave Widow a look over, which wasn’t the friendliest that Widow had ever seen. But he said nothing to the plus one that Eva had brought with her.

  He simply nodded and waved them up.

  Widow smiled at the guy and followed Eva around a corner and past several doors, generic and gray, until they reached an elevator.

  “This is an expensive-looking building.”

  “I guess so.”

  Her accent returned.

  “This whole industrial loft style isn’t. Not anymore.”

  Eva asked, “So what?”

  “I thought you said that Edward is a fireman? Allegedly.”

  “I didn’t mean he is an ordinary one. He’s an assistant deputy in the department. He works out of city hall.”

  “He’s the next guy down from the top or something?”

  “I think so.”

  “I didn’t know they paid this well.”

  Eva shrugged and said, “Believe me. I looked into it. He makes a good salary.”

  Widow stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say to that. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he believed it. But anything was possible.

  They waited for the elevator. It came and the doors sucked open. Widow followed her on and she hit the button for Edward’s floor.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened and Widow and Eva stayed where they were, waiting, breathing.

  Widow kept his arm out in front of Eva, blocking her path forward.

  He took out the Maxim 9 and kept it back, behind his thigh, out of sight of anyone walking past.

  Eva whispered, “What?”

  Widow said nothing.

  After a moment went by, the elevator doors started to close. He moved his hand out and blocked them. The sensors picked up the resistance and the levers and gears turned back, pulling the doors open.

  Widow stepped out into the hall. He looked left. Nothing was there. He jerked to the right and saw nothing there either. No one was waiting to ambush them.

  He tucked the gun back into his waistband and motioned for Eva to step off the elevator.

  Eva said, “I think you’ve seen too many movies.”

  “Just being safe.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “You can say that.”

  “Don’t worry, this isn’t Iraq. Or wherever you’ve been.”

  Widow stayed quiet.

  Eva turned left and walked west.

  “Which one is it?”

  “The last one. On the corner.”

  Like the lobby to the building, the hallway had high ceilings, smooth cement floors and concrete walls. There was more abstract art hanging on the walls between the apartment doors.

  The doors were these huge wooden things. No peepholes. No doorbells.

  It was amazing how this industrial look had come back into style. Widow remembered seeing an old bullet factory in Ukraine once. It had been converted to a hotel. He couldn’t remember the name of it, but the whole thing had a ton of roped-off photographs and old tank shells, turned into art.

  This building wasn’t an old ammunition factory, but it had that same industrial look to it.

  The major difference being that the old ammunition factory in Ukraine had once been a working factory. It had been designed that way for convenience and it was cheap.

  The owners of this place had probably paid out the ass to have the same look that cost nothing decades ago.

  Strange what rich people will pay for.

  The thought brought Widow to another conclusion. No way was this Edward guy just working for the fire department. Not with this kind of pad.

  They walked on and stopped at the door.

  “Should I knock? You stand out of sight?”

  “There’s no peephole. Makes no difference.”

  Eva shrugged and knocked on the door, flat-handed, three loud pounds.

  They waited.

  Widow leaned into the door and listened. He heard nothing.

  “Sounds like no one’s here.”

  Eva reached out and pounded on the door again, two more times.

  Widow asked, “How can we get in?”

  “Can you kick it in?”

  “No way!�
��

  “You’re a big guy. You can do it.”

  He said, “Besides all the racket it’ll make, this door is solid wood. No one is getting in that he doesn’t let in.”

  Widow reached out and tried the handle. It was locked.

  “You don’t know where he might keep a spare key?”

  She paused and then she said, “The front desk has one. He could let us in.”

  “Will he do that?”

  “It’s doubtful. But maybe.”

  “We could wait for him to get home.”

  “No. I can’t wait. What if Farmer has already made contact with my father?”

  Widow thought for a moment, looked over her head, down to the end of the hall.

  He said, “He probably has.”

  Eva said nothing, but a look of fear came over her face.

  “You’ve been sedated for two days, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’d say whatever this guy’s plans were with your father, he’s already well ahead of us.”

  “So how are we getting in then?”

  Widow took stock again. He turned and started to head back to the elevator.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “Widow?”

  “We’ll convince the guard to let us in.”

  “How?”

  BACK AT THE FRONT DESK, Eva stood and explained to the guard at the desk exactly what Widow had told her, a simple plan that usually worked.

  “I have to get in there. We knocked on the door and we heard him ask for help.”

  The guard looked at her. He was standing up.

  Widow heard his fingers tapping on the desk behind the counter. He was waiting, listening hard for any indication that the guard was going to press a hidden security call button, like a hidden distress call he had seen in banks.

  It was very doubtful that they had one that called the police. Why would they?

  But if the security for the building was outsourced to a local agency, which it probably was, then they might have a call center, like a headquarters. They might have such a switch installed at all their building locations.

  This was New York City.

  The guard had a look of concern on his face. He seemed to be buying the lie, but there was one problem.

  Widow realized that he was that problem.

  The guard said, “I don’t know.”

  Which was kind of blurted out, like a reaction to the whole situation.

  “Please! We have to get in there!” Eva said. She was good. She was really selling the whole concerned girlfriend bit.