Chapter 31

Jack re-attached all the photos to his office whiteboard while Spence escorted Deshawn from the police station. The last to go up was the photo of psychiatrist, Ryan Bowen.

When he was done, he perched himself on the side of his desk while he studied the photographs. He rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth.

There were too many gaps relating to Bowen. He drank with the judge at The Yale Club on Wednesday and Saturday nights. This much Bowen admitted.

The night the judge was killed, the Judge left the club on his own to attend Goodfellow’s party in Brooklyn. This much they knew. And obviously, so did the shooter.

Bowen did not leave with the judge the night the Judge was killed, or for that matter, any of the five other Saturday nights they reviewed from The Yale Club security footage.

Yet Deshawn said he recognized Bowen from the child sex ring parties, so he must’ve left some time after the judge. What isn’t falling into place here?

Bowen was sent an email from Goodfellow. This is fact. Problem was, the content of the email Goodfellow sent was corrupted, which made it illegible. Do patients send their shrinks emails…?

And the most glaring of all was, of the six photographs Deshawn recognized, Bowen was the only one still alive.

Was Bowen yet to become a statistic, or was there something else at play here…?

When Spence wandered back into Jack’s office, Jack was still in deep contemplation.

‘How did you find Deshawn…?’ Spence asked.

‘In a word—Credible…’

‘Agree.’

‘I couldn’t find any reason to doubt his story. Which brings me to this guy…’ Jack flicked a hand at the photo of Bowen. ‘How does he fit into the picture…?’

‘According to Deshawn, he was at the child sex group parties with these others…’ Spence waved a hand over the whiteboard.

‘But, unlike all of them… He’s still above ground…’ Jack said.

‘But for how long…? If he is one of them…’ he jabbed a thumb at the board. ‘He may very well be on borrowed time.’

‘Or… He is involved in the shootings. Our shooter has to know the inner workings of this child sex group being targeted. How else would he, or she have access to the photos sent to me…?’

‘Agree.’

‘Here’s what we know so far…’ Jack began. ’Our inquiries suggest the shooter could be female. Possibly living at 46 Mc Donald Street in Greenwich Village – yet to be confirmed.

’She most likely has a high level of training, possibly military. If the training is military, she is not home grown. According to the maintenance man at Mc Donald Street, the woman we were looking for from Central Park, this Nadya… had an Eastern European accent, possibly Russian.

‘We really need to talk with this woman, to either exonerate her, or further implicate her. Now… Deshawn said there were no women at the parties he attended, so if she is our shooter, someone has to be feeding her information about these…’ He jabbed a thumb at the whiteboard.

‘Are you thinking, Bowen…?’

Jack shook a slow head… ‘I really have no idea about Bowen, but we can’t rule that out…’

‘Do we still have someone sitting off 46 Mc Donald St waiting to grab our mystery woman, when she returns…?’ Spence asked.

‘Yep.’ Jack pointed to the top corner of the whiteboard where “Unit 714” was written in red marker. ‘They are there at the moment.’ He checked his watch. ‘Their last update was over one hour ago. They reported no sighting back then… Clearly nothing has changed, or they would’ve updated us…’

‘Based on what Deshawn told us, we gotta go back and talk to this shrink, Jobs…’

‘Agreed. Everything points to him being one of these kiddy fiddlers. Now we need to establish if he is, or if he is involved in some other way… Can you give Midtown Psychiatry a call and arrange a time for us to meet with the good doctor…’

‘Done,’ Spence said. He exited the office.

Before Jack had moved from his position, his cell vibrated in his pocket. He removed it and checked the display before taking the call.

‘Hey Stan…What ya got for me…? What, now…?’ He checked his watch. His focus shifted to Spence. ‘OK. And you’ve got her there with you now…? Great. Keep her there. We’re 10 minutes away…’ He ended the call. ‘Hold the phone Spence,’ Jack yelled.

He removed the vehicle keys from his top drawer, lifted his jacket from his coat stand then moved to Spence’s desk. Spence froze while in the process of dialing a number. His puzzled gaze stared back at Jack. ‘Stan called from down in Mc Donald Street. Our shooter suspect just returned. They’ve got her waiting for us…’

Spence dropped the telephone handset into the cradle and pushed himself up from his chair. ‘This’ll be interesting,’ he said as he lifted his jacket from the back of his chair.

Jack lobbed Spence the car keys as they moved to exit the bull pen.

---

Spence located a parking space in Mc Donald Street, three doors down from number 46.

A dark-haired woman dressed in denim jeans and a sleeveless puffer vest over a black jumper, sat alone on the stoop at number forty-six. She focused heavily on her cell phone, while three detectives stood together a short distance away, near the curb.

Stan, the cop who called Jack, noticed Jack and Spence approaching. He moved to meet them.

‘That’s her on the stoop…’ Stan said. He checked his notes. ‘She says her name is Nadya Dmitrieva… She’s 29… Speaks with a strong Russian accent.’

‘Have you told her why we want to talk to her…?’ Jack said. Nadya’s eyes never lifted from her cell.

‘No specifics… Just that you want to speak to her about an ongoing investigation.’

‘OK. Good.’

Jack approached the woman. ‘Good afternoon, Nadya…’ Jack said. The woman shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up to the towering Jack. ‘My name is Detective Lieutenant Head and this is Detective Sergeant Spencer…’

‘Vot for you vant talk to mee…?’

Jack gestured towards the building. ‘Can we talk inside…?’

‘You khave varrant…?’

Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance. Spence rolled his eyes. ‘No. I don’t not need a warrant to talk to you, Nadya,’ Jack said. His tone dripped in condescension. ‘But if, you’d prefer… We can easily take you to the police station and talk to you there…It’s completely up to you…’

Nadya’s shielded eyes flicked between Jack and Spence, presumably in contemplation of her preferred option.

She sighed heavily as she dragged herself up from the step and dusted off her butt. She was a short, thin built woman. ‘Come…’ She grunted then ascended the stoop to the front door. Jack and Spence followed.

She escorted them to her apartment number 34 on the 3rd floor. Along the way Jack attempted to make small talk.

‘So Nadya … Are you from Russia…?’

‘Da… Yees…’

‘What part of Russia are you from …?’

‘Volgograd…’ She said matter-of-fact. ‘Vy…? Vot for you ask…?’

Jack lifted his eyebrows when he caught Spence’s gaze. ‘Just chatting, Nadya…’ Jack reassured.

At her apartment she unlocked her door and held it open for her visitors to enter. She glared at them as they walked passed.

The tidy one-bedroom apartment was small. After stepping through the front door they found themselves standing in the compact lounge room.

A cream-colored leather two-seater sofa and a single chair, positioned in front of a wall-mounted flat screen TV, dominated the floor space.

To their left was the kitchenette. The bedroom was off the lounge to the right.

Nadya closed the door. She crossed her arms and glared at Jack. ‘So… Ziss is my aparrrt-ment. You khappy now…?’

’Maybe you’ve misunderstood me, Nadya. I didn’t want to see your apartment. I thought it would be better to talk to you in your apartment, instead of down on the street.’

‘Talk about Vot…?’

Jack gestured to the sofa. ‘Let’s take a seat…’ he said.

Nadya’s arms fell limp. She glared her disapproval at Jack, then moved to take a seat in the single chair. Jack and Spence sat on the sofa. Jack leaned on his knees.

‘How long have you been in the US, Nadya?’

‘I come khere in two zousand nineteen…’

‘You came here in 2019…’ Jack clarified. ‘Why did you come to the US?’

‘I study See-kology khat University.’

‘Ah… Psychology… You’re at NYU…?’

‘Yees. Final year…?’

‘How old are you?’

‘Tventee Neen.’

’Twenty-nine. Did you enroll as a mature aged student…?’

‘Da…’

‘Can I see your passport…?’

‘Vy…?’

‘Just to check everything is in order…?’

‘Vot you mean every-zing…?’

‘Your visa. Your name. Where you’re from. Everything.’

Nadya shook a frustrated head. She stood from her chair and moved to her bedroom. She returned a short time later with her passport. She handed it to Jack then resumed her seat.

Jack briefly examined the cover of the maroon-colored passport. He opened it to the main photo page. A color photo of an emotionless Nadya stared back at him.

He recorded Nadya’s details – passport number and expiry date, her nationality, name, date and place of birth.

He then flipped over some pages where he checked the entry and departure visa stamps.

‘I see you’ve returned to Russia twice since you moved here in 2019…’

‘Yees. For kholiday…’

‘Holiday…’ Jack nodded. He closed the passport and handed it back to Nadya. ‘Do you own a wig, Nadya?’

She frowned at the question, then shook her head. ‘No Vig… Khappy vit khair color.’

‘What about a firearm, Nadya…? Do you own a weapon of any sort?’

Nadya again frowned at the question. ‘Nyet…Vy I vant veapon…?’

‘Have you ever fired a pistol…?’

She shook her head. ‘Nyet…’

Jack slid from his folder the photo of the blonde woman they tracked from Central Park, to this building. He handed it to Nadya. ‘Have you seen this woman before…?’

Nadya accepted the photo and examined it. She shook her head. ‘Nyet.’ She held out the photo for Jack to take back.

‘Keep it…’ Jack said. ‘Have another look at it…’ Nadya’s eyes fell back to the photo, as Jack continued. ‘Is that you in the photo, Nadya…?’

Nadya’s eyes shot up to meet Jack’s gaze. She frowned. ‘Nyet. Nyot me.’ She held the photo out to Jack. ‘Zat vomen khaz blonde khair. My khair brown…’

Jack allowed her to keep hold of the photo. ‘That women there was seen entering this building. She used a key to access the front door at street level…’ Jack said. ‘So she must live in this building. Have you seen her around?’

‘Nyet.’

‘Are you sure that’s not you in the photo, Nadya? That woman’s features are very similar to yours. Same cheekbones… Same skin tone…’

‘Am sure. Is nyot me…’

‘What do you do for work, Nadya…?’ Jack ran his eyes around the apartment. ‘You know… to pay your rent and food etc…?’

‘Nyet verk. My mama end papa pay zis apart-ment rreent.’

‘Your parents pay your rent?’

‘Da…’

‘And do they also give you an allowance for food and anything else you need?’

‘Da. Yees. So I can study khat universeetee.’

‘What did you do in Russia for work before you came to the US, Nadya?’

‘I verk vit government…’

‘You worked with the government….?’ Jack clarified. ‘Doing what?’

‘I vos pybleec seervent…’

‘Yes, public servant. I understand that, But what area of government did you work as a public servant…?’

‘Velfare and social serveeseas…’

‘Was that welfare and social services…?’

‘Da.’

‘In Volgograd…?’

‘Da…’

‘I haven’t heard of Volgograd… Where is that, compared to Moscow?’

‘Is tirteen khours drive Sowt vest of Moscow…’

‘Would you mind if we had a look around your apartment’

‘Vy you vont look apartment…?’

‘I just want to be sure you don’t have a firearm, or a blonde wig…’ Jack pointed to the photo still in her hand.

Nadya held out the photo to Jack. ‘Khere…take…’ Jack accepted the photo. ‘I elready told chu, I dunt khave vig or veapon in appart-ment…’

‘Then you won’t mind up having a quick look…’

‘You khave varrant?’

‘No. But if you give us your permission, we don’t need a warrant.’

Nadya shook a firm head. ‘Not give permisheyun to search apart-ment.’

‘You won’t allow us to look around?’ She shook her head. ‘Is that because you have something to hide, Nadya?’

‘Nyet. Nuzink to khide… Just don’t vant you looking my apart-ment.’

Jack stood from his seat. Spence followed. ‘We won’t take any more of your time, Nadya. Thank you for chatting with us.’

Nadya opened her front door, then closed it behind them, once they exited. No further words were said.

While they waited for the elevator, Jack checked back over his shoulder towards Nadya’s door. ‘I’m going to get the FBI to run a search on her for us and see what comes back,’ Jack said. ‘There’s more to her than meets the eye, my friend.’

‘Absolutely. She didn’t strike me as a typical college student – mature age, or not,’ Spence said.

‘I didn’t see any study books anywhere. A student in her final year of psychology should’ve had study material and paraphernalia everywhere. When we get back to the office contact NYU and confirm she attends there.’

Chapter 32

Jack and Spence approached the reception counter at Midtown Psychiatry. Jack leaned on the elevated counter top.

‘Good morning, Detective. Nice to see you again,’ the pleasantly smiling receptionist greeted.

‘Good morning. We have a 9.15 with the doctor.’ Jack scanned the empty waiting room while she checked her computer. ‘I gather we’re the doc’s first for the day…?’

‘Yes. You are first cab off the rank, as it were. Take a seat, gentlemen. Doctor Bowen will be with you shortly.’

While Jack and Spence ambled over to the waiting chairs, Doctor Bowen opened his office door. ‘Detectives…’ he greeted. ‘This is becoming a habit… Come through please.’

Jack and Spence entered his office and moved to the sofa at the east end of his office. The doc closed the door and followed them. He slid into his chair and crossed his legs. ‘Now… What can I do for you… this time? Was there something I missed on your last visit?’

‘We have a serious situation here, Doc,’ Jack said.

‘I see. Serious. How?’

‘Have you heard of the name Deshawn Baker…?’

Bowen’s mouth inverted. He shook his head. ‘No. Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?’

‘Deshawn Baker is a thirteen-year-old African American boy.’

‘I see…’

‘Who had been groomed by a pedophile group…’

‘Oh dear. How horrible…’

‘This pedophile group met twice a week, during which they sexually abused him and several other young children.’

‘That is abhorrent, Detective. Absolutely abhorrent. Tell me… Why is homicide investigating abuse of children…?’

‘Because the murders we are investigating are linked to this pedophile group.’

‘I see. So… why are you telling me this?’

‘Because Deshawn picked your photo from a group of thirteen photographs, as being one of the people who attended these child sex group parties.’

Bowen’s mouth fell open. He sat upright in his chair. ‘That is absurd.’ His face turned a shade of puce. ‘How dare you come into my office and accuse me of such a crime against innocent children. I treat young children in here all the time for exactly that… being sexually abused by adults.’

I understand you’re upset, Doctor, but I—′

‘You have no idea how upset I am. You come in here and make these unfounded accusations about me-’

‘I am not accusing you of anything….’ Jack said. ‘I have simply told you what a thirteen-year-old boy told us… And now we are here to discuss this with you. If you say these are false accusations this young boy made, then we need to find out why he chose you.’

‘What did you say his name was?’

‘Deshawn Baker.’

Bowen rubbed a hand across his mouth. He shook his head. ‘It’s not a name I’m familiar with…’

‘Well, he knows you?’

‘How does he know me? Did he say he knew me as a Doctor…?’

‘No. He picked your photo, along with a number of others, as being a person who regularly frequented these child sex group parties.’

‘I know I should be asking you why you had my photo in the first place, but what this boy has said is more important at this stage. I don’t know this poor young boy… But he’s got it terribly wrong. I have never been to a child sex group party.’

‘So he’s mistaken, is he?’

‘Absolutely he’s mistaken.’

‘So how does he know you? Could he have been a patient? He is a troubled youth. Been in and out of Juvie. Lives on the street…’

‘And this is your credible witness who picked me from a photo…?’ Bowen said oozing sarcasm.

‘Until we can establish otherwise, we have to accept his evidence as credible. Can you check whether he was a patient?’

‘I can check, but you understand I can’t discuss anything with you, if he was.’

‘Do yourself a favor, Doc. Check your records.’ Jack’s comments were firm and direct.

Bowen stood from his chair and approached the four-drawer filing cabinet behind the sofa. He slid out the top drawer.

‘So you’re old school with your records? Haven’t gone electronic?’ Jack said.

Bowen walked his fingers through the files. ‘No-one can hack into these records, Detective. Did you say his name was Baker…?’

‘That’s right…’

’Ah… Deshawn Baker. Well there you go… He was a patient of mine.’ Bowen slipped out the file and opened it. ‘OK…’

‘What have you got…?’

‘All I can tell you is… He was patient of mine due to a court-imposed requirement that he attend visits with me, at one per week.’

‘How long ago was his last visit?’

Bowen examined the file. He flipped a page. ‘So… He was last here thirteen months ago. That was his tenth visit. He hasn’t been back since…’

‘Lost cause, Doc, or what?’

Bowen glared at Jack. ‘You know I can’t answer that question, Detective.’

‘I’m just sayin’, Doc… It could be in your best interest to provide as much information you can about this kid, so we can make an informed decision as to why he chose your photograph…’

‘Isn’t it obvious…? It is to me…’

‘Obvious… How?’

‘This young man remembered me from our sessions over twelve months ago and clearly he has confused how he recognized me with thinking I was involved in this horrible abuse he’d been subjected to. This poor boy’s mind must be so confused…’

Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance as the doc pushed to clear his name.

‘Tell me… Did this young boy accuse me personally of any physical abuse against him?’

‘No. I don’t believe he did.’

‘Did he accuse me of any physical abuse against anyone else?’

‘No… He was clear about that. He said you just watched.’

Bowen’s face tightened. ‘Watched…?’ His face distorted like he’d sucked a lemon. ’Are you kidding me…? If you want my professional opinion, Detective… This young boy was sitting in a police station, probably getting treated better than he has ever been treated before by the police…

’Instead of charging him and accusing him, I assume you were treating him like you were his best friend, and then he gets asked to pick people from a number of photographs.

‘He starts identifying people, then sees my photo and remembers me as well, but he was not able to discern how he remembered me, so he lumped me in with all the others.’

‘I’m not discounting that as a possibility, Doc…’ Jack said. ‘Which is why we came here today to chat with you about this…’

Bowen closed the file. ‘I think this is a straight forward case of mistaken identity, by this young boy, Detective. He remembered me, but from the wrong place and time. I was his treating Doctor for ten weeks.’

‘Maybe you’re right. Strange how he forgot that part, though… Don’t you think?’

’Not at all… I couldn’t begin to imagine what this young boy has been through and how all this abuse you mentioned has impacted him, psychologically.

‘The brain handles trauma in a number of ways. Trauma and stress can cause the brain to block, suppress or affect accurate recall, which is clearly what has happened here with this young boy.’

‘OK. I’m happy to accept that reasoning, at this stage, Doc.’ Jack stood from his chair. ‘We’ll get out of your hair…’

‘I appreciate that.’ Bowen stood from his chair.

Bowen escorted his visitors to the waiting room. At the office door, Jack turned to Bowen. ‘You are the only person who knows about Deshawn talking to us, Doc… Let’s make sure it stays that way.’ Jack glared at the much shorter Bowen.

‘Of course.’

Bowen retreated into his office and closed the door, while Jack and Spence returned to their office.

---

Jack and Spence watched as the young waitress place their coffee orders on the table in front of them. She smiled then returned to the rear counter.

Jack rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this since we left the Doc’s office…’ He lifted his cup and took a sip. It didn’t disappoint. That explosion of flavor from the first sip of a brewed coffee always hit the spot.

After leaving Doctor Bowen’s on their return to their office, Jack suggested a detour to their favorite little coffee shop in Tribeca, to de-brief, or that’s how he sold it to Spence.

Spence of course didn’t need any hard close on the idea. He was in.

The little coffee shop was relatively empty when they arrived. Takeout orders were running hot, but only three of the eight tables were occupied by sit-in customers.

Spence and Jack sat at their usual table by the front window, where they watched the passers-by.

Jack sipped on his latte. ‘What did you make of Bowen?’

Spence lifted his cup. He paused the cup at his lips, to answer. ‘It is possible what he says.’ He took a sip before clarifying. ‘I mean… On one hand, you have the word of a respectable person in society… an educated person and on the other, you have a street kid who’s been in and out of Juvie…’

‘And potentially exposed to who knows what level of physical and mental abuse…’ Jack added.

‘Exactly… So which one is the more credible…?’

‘Look…’ Jack replaced his cup and leaned on his elbows. ‘The doc’s explanation as to why Deshawn picked his photograph is not unreasonable, given he did treat the kid around twelve months ago. Keep in mind, Deshawn was quite clear the doc never touched him and he never saw the doc abuse any other kids… His confused memory could explain why that was the case. Because the doc wasn’t actually at these parties….’

’Hard to say, isn’t it? I mean… If the doc was at these parties, he’s never gonna admit it, is he?’

‘True.’

Spence’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He removed it and checked the display before answering. ‘Detective Sergeant Spencer… Aha. That’s right. For a student named Nadya Dmitrieva… D-M-I-T-R- That’s the one… Aha. From Russia, that’s right… Aha… OK… Fantastic. That’s all I needed. I appreciate you calling me back.’ Spence ended the call.

‘Looks like our shooter suspect was telling the truth…?’ Jack said as a question.

‘She was, as far as NYU is concerned…’ He said. He slid his cell back into his inner jacket pocket. ‘They confirmed she’s a mature aged international student from Russia, studying her final year of psychology.’

‘What did you make of Nadya, from our visit…? Do you think she’s the blonde woman we tracked from Central Park?’ Jack said.

‘Physically, I’d say she’s close to a match to the blonde women. But what doesn’t fit is why an NYU psychology major, on a student visa from Russia, would go around shooting pedophiles in NYC…’

‘That is of course, if Nadya is our blonde shooter…’ Jack said. ‘I wonder if we’d have the same interest in her if she wasn’t Russian, but instead say… a farm girl from Nebraska.’

‘Good question…?’ Spence said. ‘The Russian accent definitely adds to the mystery and intrigue of it all, doesn’t it? But you know what…? Why couldn’t a farm girl from Nebraska be our shooter…?’

‘So the answer is, yes…’ Jack said. He drained his cup. ‘I don’t know about you… But I could go again.’

Spence examined the contents of his cup. ‘Why not.’ He drained his cup and returned it to the table.

Jack signaled to the waitress. She scurried over. ‘Could we have another round of the same, please,’ Jack said as she neared.

She smiled and nodded her understanding. She slipped her order pad from her apron and scribbled down the order. ‘Can I get you anything else…?’

‘Just the coffees, thanks…’

As the waitress returned to place the order, Jack said, ‘I wasn’t in the mood to do much work today, anyway…’

‘You won’t get any argument from me…’ Spence said. My head’s spinning from the information we’re gathering for this case.’

Chapter 33

Friday morning rolled into mid-afternoon, albeit slowly for Jack. It had been a long week. The weekend couldn’t come around quick enough.

There had been lots of information for him to process, but at this stage, none gave up his shooter.

If he was true to himself, their suspect, Nadya was only really a suspect because she was a Russian who lived in the building the blonde woman from Central Park was seen entering.

Apart from being a mysterious Russian woman attending NYU, everything else was circumstantial. There was nothing known about her that supported his suspicions she could’ve been a hired assassin.

There was insufficient evidence for a judge to sign a search warrant for Nadya’s apartment, so the enigma that was Nadya from Volgograd remained as something that continued to occupy his thoughts.

Spence wandered into Jack’s office carrying the mail. ‘Earth to Jobs…’ Spence said.

Jack’s focus shifted to Spence. He watched him slide into the visitor’s chair at his desk. ‘Where were you at, big guy…?’ He dumped the mail on the desk. ‘You looked miles away.’

Jack jabbed a thumb at the whiteboard. ‘This case, Spence…’ He shook a frustrated head. ‘It’s a fucken roller coaster ride. One minute we’re on a high, coz it looks like we’ve got something, so we chase it down a burrow, only to find it’s another dead end.’

‘That there’s the story of investigating, Jobs. You know that. Same roller coaster ride… different case each time,’ he said. ‘But you know what…? I think we’re close. I think this case will break, and soon. We just gotta keep turning over all stones and see what lurks underneath.’

‘Much there…?’ Jack lifted his chin at the mail.

‘Didn’t look.’

Jack scooped up the pile of six, or so envelopes. He repeatedly shuffled the front envelope to the back, as he examined them in his hand. ‘Ah…FBI…’ He said. He dropped the other envelopes. ‘Hopefully this is some good news about Nadya…’ He lifted his letter opener and sliced open the envelope.

Jack reclined his chair, slipped on his glasses and commenced to read what, if anything, the FBI’s research found on Nadya.

His face tightened. ‘Holy shit…’ He returned his chair back to the upright position. ‘This just got real…’ He leaned on his elbows while he continued to read.

Spence frowned. ‘What’s up…?’

Jack didn’t respond. He was too focused on reading the FBI report. After several minutes his eyes lifted to Spence. He held a stunned gaze on Spence as he collapsed back in his chair. ‘Nadya’s our fucken shooter, Spence. We had her and we let her go…’

Spence frowned heavily. ‘Why? What did the FBI say…?’

Jack read from the report. ‘Nadya Dmitrieva, born 12 April 1992 in Volgograd, Russia was honorably discharged from Spetsnaz after eight years’ service…’ Jack’s eyes lifted to Spence.

‘Spetsnaz…?’

‘Says here… Spetsnaz is the elite special force of the Russian military…’

Spence’s mouth fell open. ‘She’s had special ops training…?’

‘Says here she was a sniper with an undisclosed number of kills.’ He shook his head. ‘They’ve listed all the weapons she’s proficient in…’

‘All the weapons…?’ Spence queried. ‘You mean… There’s more than one…’

‘There’s a whole fucken arsenal here, Spence. Listen to this…These are the weapons listed on her military record. There’s the AK-74 rifle.’

‘Heard of that one…’

‘The AKM, which FBI says here is a modernized version of the AK-47. Fires 7.62 mm rounds up to 383 yards. The AKM fitted with a GP-25 grenade launcher.’

‘A grenade launcher…? Fuck me. Who is this person?’

‘There’s the SVD Dragunov…’

Spence shook his head. ‘Haven’t heard of that one.’

Jack continued to read. ’Ah… says here it also fires 7.62 mm rounds and can hit targets up to 1312 yards out. The SVDS Dragunov, which is a modern version of the SVD. The bolt-action SV-98 sniper rifle, which has a scope with a range of about 1,110 yards.

‘The list just keeps going…’ Spence said.

‘The VSS Vintorez silenced sniper rifle, which fires a heavy 9 x 39mm round. The PKP Pecheneg general purpose machine gun, which fires a 7.62 x 54mm rounds.’

‘Jesus…’

‘The 9mm AS Val. Apparently it fires subsonic rounds…’

‘Subsonic rounds…?’

Jack continued to read. ‘Yeah. Says here, that means the bullet travels below the speed of sound and conceals the snapping sound of supersonic bullets.’

‘Oh well… There you go, then. We need to conceal that snapping sound of supersonic bullets…’ Spence said oozing sarcasm.

‘There’s the SR-3, which FBI says is a shortened version of the AS Val. It fires a nine x 39mm subsonic round. It’s intended for concealed carry and can be fitted with a suppressor. And the 9mm GSh-18 sidearm. Apparently, it has an 18 round magazine and bullets that can pierce body armor. It’s made for close combat…’ Jack lifted his stunned eyes to Spence.

‘Is that all…?’ Spence said. He was being sarcastic.

‘That’s it.’

‘That’s an average list of weapons…’ Spence said. His sarcasm was not lost on Jack. ‘But you forgot to mention the Glock – 19 used in our kills…’ He flicked finger at the whiteboard.

‘I’d say Spence, if it fires a round… she’d be proficient in handling it.’

‘Well… There’s ya explanation for the Mozambique triple tap used to kill them…’ Spence said, as he jabbed his head to the whiteboard. ‘Our shooter is Special Ops trained… Just like we suspected.’

Jack continued to read from the report. ‘The FBI identified that in 2019 she traveled to the US on an international student visa to commence a psychology degree at NYU.’

‘So how does she go from being an eight-year trained special ops killer, to an NYU psychology student…?’

‘Clearly, she couldn’t fully let go of her past… She must moonlight as a gun-for-hire… Probably to pay her rent and tuition.’

‘So… You don’t believe that shit either about her parents paying all her living expenses…?’ Spence said

‘Not now… No way.’ Jack dropped the report on his desk. He clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Do you remember I asked her if she owned, or had fired a pistol…?’

Spence nodded. ‘Yep. Lied through her teeth…’

‘There’s enough here to get an arrest warrant for her now… We gotta bring her in, Spence.’

Spence flicked a finger at the letter on the desk. ‘Do ya think we’ll need reinforcements…? We have no idea what firepower she has in that apartment.’

‘Good point. I’ll get onto the FBI and see if they’ll provide a SWAT team to accompany us. This will certainly be a high-risk warrant…’

---

The building Super paused before he knocked on the door to apartment number 34.

Standing with a pronounced stoop, the super was a tall man in his early sixties, with tightly curled white hair.

His nervous eyes glanced back at the four men lined up in single file along the hall wall. Each was dressed in black clothing, black body armor, black military helmets and carrying semi-automatic weapons.

His focus shifted to Jack and Spence standing back from the SWAT team. Jack jabbed his head towards the apartment. It was a message clearer than any spoken word. Knock on the door.

When they arrived at number 46 McDonald Street, Greenwich Village, Jack showed the super, Nadya’s arrest warrant, then briefed him on what he was expected to do.

It was quite simple. Knock on the door and identify himself to Nadya. If she didn’t respond, unlock the door with his master key, then get the fuck out of the way. The SWAT team would do the rest.

It was now his moment to shine. Jack jabbed his head at the apartment a second time. The super nodded nervously. He knocked on the door with a gentle rap.

When there was no response, his inquiring eyes shifted back to Jack. Jack eyes flared as he jabbed his head at the door, which was his instruction to knock again.

The super knocked a second time. ‘Nadya… This is Dave… Dave McKenzie, the building super… Are you there…?’ His voice had a discernible tremor.

Silence.

The super’s inquiring, ‘what should I do now’ eyes again looked to Jack. Jack imitated putting a key in the lock and turning it.

The super nodded his understanding and did as instructed. He unlocked the door, then stepped aside.

With his back to the wall, the SWAT team leader reached in from the side and slowly turned the door handle. When the tongue released, he forcefully shoved the door open and raced inside, screaming. His three team members followed close behind, as if they’d been sucked in by the vacuum he caused.

The screaming and yelling when they entered the apartment merged into one continuous, unyielding yell.

Jack and Spence waited in the hall until they received notification the apartment was clear for them to enter.

‘I expected to hear an exchange of gun fire when SWAT entered,’ Jack quietly said to Spence.

After a wait of around three or four minutes, the SWAT team leader stepped out into the hall and approached Jack and Spence. ‘The apartment’s empty,’ he said. ‘You’re clear to go in…’

‘So, we don’t need these…?’ Jack lifted his Glock.

‘Nuh. You can holster that…’

The three SWAT team members were standing in the lounge room when Jack and Spence stepped inside. Jack scanned the apartment. ‘All her furniture’s still here. So she hasn’t done a runner…’ Jack said.

‘This is a furnished apartment lease,’ the building super said from outside in the hall.

Jack and Spence exchanged a brief, but concerned glance. Jack moved to the door way and beckoned to the super. ‘Come in…’

The super stepped into the lounge room. Jack waved a hand over the furnished room. ‘Are you saying none of this furniture is owned by the tenant?’

‘Not in this apartment. No. This lease included all the furniture you’re looking at.’

Jack’s eyes flared. He ran to the bedroom and heaved open the wardrobe door. His shoulders slumped. ‘Fuck!’ he screamed at the empty hangers.

Spence wandered into the bedroom. ‘Gone…?’ he asked knowingly.

Jack didn’t answer. He checked the drawers in the tall boy bureau standing in the corner – empty. He moved to the bedside drawers dragging each one open. Empty. He slammed the last drawer shut.

His face displayed a dull puce. Veins bulged from his forehead. For the first time his investigation had substance.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth. Jack returned to the lounge room. ‘Did you know she’d vacated the apartment…?’ Jack asked the super.

He shook his head. ‘No. I’m as surprised as you are.’

‘When did you last see Nadya…?’

‘I haven’t seen Nadya for weeks. She keeps to herself…’

‘Something spooked her…’ Jack said. ‘We spoke to her here in this apartment around ten days ago. Now she’s into the wind…’

‘Clearly, she felt we were too close when we were last here,’ Spence said.

‘Clearly. Give NYU a call and see if she’s missed any classes…’

While Spence made his call, Jack examined every cupboard and drawer in the apartment, from the kitchen to the bathroom. He even checked the waste bin contents in the kitchen, hoping for some indication of where she had gone.

Spence slid his cell back into his suit jacket when he approached Jack in the kitchen. ‘They checked the student attendance roll… Apparently the last class she attended was on Tuesday of last week…’

‘OK. So that’s, what… Ten days ago. That’s around the time we visited her…’ He said thinking out aloud. ‘Has there been classes held since then…?’

‘Psychology classes were on every day… Just different times, apparently.’

Jack removed his cell from his jacket and called Peter Unly. ’Are you still in the office? Good. I need you to do something for me, as a priority.

’Get onto Customs and Immigration put a BOLO out for our suspect, Nadya Dmitrieva. I’ll spell it. Nadya that’s N-A-D-Y-A. Last name Dmitrieva. D-M-I-T-R-I-E-V-A.

‘Her passport details are in the file on my desk. Make sure they detain her if she tries to leave the country. OK. Thanks.’ Jack ended the call.

Jack shook a disappointed head as he scanned the apartment. It hurt to let this one go. He had his shooter, but she slipped from his grasp. ‘OK. Let’s wrap it up.’

Chapter 34

It was a dejected Jack and Spence who shuffled into the homicide bull pen, dragging their feet.

Their walk of shame was in stark contrast to the way they earlier bounded out on their way to Nadya’s apartment, full of hope things had started to turn.

Instead, both wore a sullen expression of failure, mixed with a dash of disappointment.

The big question now was, where to from here?’

As Jack passed Pete Unly, Peter lifted his note pad, expecting Jack to glance his way. He didn’t. Jack’s massive shoulders were rounded as he continued past Peter.

‘I notified Customs, Jobs… She hasn’t left the country…’

Jack stopped and turned to Peter. ‘She’s still on shore…’ A hint of a sparkle returned to his eye. ’OK. Great. We gotta keep ahead of this. Get a BOLO out for her. Stress an ‘approach with caution’ warning because she could be armed and dangerous.’

Jack continued to his office. ‘The other thing I have for you, Jobs, relates to that shrink you asked me to run a background on…’

Jack turned back to Peter. ‘Ryan Bowen… That’s right. I forgot about him. Anything of interest?’

Peter referred to his notes. ‘You could say that…’

Jack returned to Peter’s desk. He crossed his arms as Peter updated him on his recent inquiries.

‘In July last year, Bowen was interviewed and charged with sexual interference of a minor. Ah…’ Peter scanned his notes. ‘The minor was an eleven-year-old patient of his…’

Jack’s eyebrows were raised when he turned to Spence, seated at his desk, to gauge if Spence heard. He did. Peter continued. The case never proceeded, but Bowen’s record doesn’t list why it never went to trial…’

‘Who was the cop that interviewed him…?’

Peter checked his notes. He flipped over a page. His scanning eyes stopped half way down. ‘Ah… Cleary up in special victims…’ Peter said.

‘Doug Cleary…?’ Jack said. Peter nodded once. Jack rubbed a hand across his mouth. He moved towards the bull pen exit. ‘Coming…?’ he said over a shoulder, to Spence.

---

Detective Sergeant Tony Caretti noticed Jack and Spence wander into the Special Victims Division. He met them a few steps inside the door.

‘What can we do for you guys, this time round…?’ Caretti said.

Jack scanned the bull pen. ‘We’re here to see Doug Cleary…’

Caretti checked the room. ‘Ah… Looks like he’s out at the moment. Can I help…?’

‘Maybe you can.’

‘Step into my office. ’ He gestured to his desk in the back corner. ‘You know the way…’

Jack and Spence slid into the visitor’s chair at Caretti’s desk. Caretti slid into his chair. ‘Is it just me, or is anyone else here experiencing a sense of deja vu…?’ He grinned.

Jack wasn’t in the mood for Caretti’s humor. He was straight to the point. ‘Last July, Detective Cleary interviewed and charged a shrink with sex offences committed against an eleven-year-old patient the shrink was treating.’

Caretti leaned on his elbows. His hands were clasped. He nodded. ‘Yeah. That’s right. The shrink was Doctor Ryan Bowen. He’s a psychiatrist on the Upper East Side. What about him?’

‘His police record shows the case didn’t go ahead.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why was that…?’

‘Wasn’t our call. He denied it, of course. The DA decided the uncorroborated evidence of the minor was insufficient to bring charges against Bowen. They decided we needed more evidence.’

‘How long after this offending did the kid report it…?’

‘As I understand it, he reported it straight away and the sessions stopped.’

‘Were the sessions court ordered…?’

Caretti nodded. ‘It was actually. The victim was a troubled street kid. He was ordered to see the shrink once a week… I think the court order was for ten sessions, but I can’t recall now.’

‘Do you know which judge placed the kid on this order…?’

Caretti shook his head. ‘No. No idea. I’d have to check the file.’

‘What was Cleary’s thoughts on Bowen’s guilt?’

‘He had no doubt the kid was telling the truth. He was pretty pissed when the DA knocked it on the head. What didn’t help also was, early this year…’ Caretti checked his desk calendar. ‘I think it was around late March… The kid went missing. Hasn’t been seen since…’

Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance. ‘Did Cleary suspect foul play for the kid…?’

‘He did. He interviewed the doc, but he had an air tight alibi. We couldn’t pin anything on him. Truth is… We have no idea if the kid simply left the area, or he was silenced once and for all. So that’s where the case stalled…’

’From what I understand… That is common amongst these pedophile groups. That’s how they silence the poor kids, isn’t it…? Plant ’em six feet under, never to be found again, or OD ‘em with a hot shot…’

’That, or ship ‘em off to the other side of the country, to an affiliate group. What’s your interest in Bowen…?’

‘We’ve been looking at him for similar offending against another street kid patient of his.’

‘What’s that got to do with homicide…? You’re stepping into our territory now.’

‘You’re right, but our inquiries related to a series of homicides that along the way, seem to have exposed a pedophile ring that involves these young street kids, and kids from poorer backgrounds.’

‘You’ve described just about every one of these sick fuck groups out there.’

‘Do you guys have anything you’re looking at, or know of a pedophile group based out of Brooklyn…?’

Caretti rubbed a hand across his mouth. ‘What part of Brooklyn?’ He was guarded in his supply of information.

‘Williamsburg…’

‘Williamsburg…? You have information about a group operating out of Williamsburg…?’

‘It appears that way, but nothing is confirmed yet.’

‘We have one we know of in the south, but nothing up north. I assume you’ll provide us with all the details when you know more…’

‘Absolutely. But at this stage, there are loose ends everywhere that need to be tied off.’

‘Understand. Just call me when you have something tangible and we’ll take it over…’

Jack and Spence ended their meeting a short time later. Caretti escorted them from the SVD to the reception area where, following the usual handshakes, they parted company.

While waiting for the elevator, Jack checked his watch. It was a little after 4pm.

‘We’ve gotta bring Bowen in,’ Spence said. ‘That’s two young kids who have alleged something against him…’

‘Yes but, Deshawn only said Bowen was present at the parties,’ Jack said. ‘He was certain Bowen never touched him, or anyone else, that he saw.’ Jack jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the SVD. ‘The case for that kid mentioned in there never proceeded to prosecution.’

The elevator doors sprung open. ‘So… You don’t wanna bring him in then…?’ Spence said, as they stepped inside the elevator.

’No… We don’t have enough to grab him, but we can certainly pay him another visit. ‘Give his practice a call and see.’

Spence slipped out his cell, Googled the number and called Midtown Psychiatry.

By the time they’d returned to their office Spence had contacted the doc’s reception and arranged a meeting at 5pm, after the doc’s last patient.

---

Bowen sat opposite his visitors in his treating room. His glare at them was one of annoyance.

‘I’m just about at my wits end, Detective. You are now harassing me with all these visits…’

Jack ignored the comments. ‘What can you tell me about the eleven-year-old patient of yours the police interviewed you over last year?’

‘How did you hear about that…?’

‘The NYPD keep records too, Doc,’ Jack said.

‘But that case never proceeded. There was insufficient evidence to prosecute.’

‘That’s how we understand it. But, on the back of what we spoke with you about regarding your patient Deshawn Baker, we would like to know your version on what happened.’

‘The kid lied… He didn’t want to come to my sessions. Look… He even threatened that if I didn’t release him from these sessions, he’d say I touched him inappropriately. I had a record of these comments in my notes. I showed them to the police.’

‘And they still charged you?’

‘That’s what I couldn’t understand. I did nothing wrong, Detective. And my name continues to be dragged down into all of this. How many more times do I have to defend my integrity? I treat kids who have been abused. I don’t abuse them.’

‘Can I see these notes…?’

Bowen stood from his chair. He glared down at Jack. ‘Normally I’d claim doctor-patient privilege… But you know what…? I’m sick of all this.’ He waved a hand. ‘I’d be prepared to face the consequences of discussing this case, if it will get you off my back.’

He dragged open the third drawer down and walked his fingers through the files. Two-thirds of the way in his slid out a file then returned to his chair. ‘I’m not going to disclose this young boy’s name, but I will show you my hand-written notes.’

Bowen slid out his note pad. He flipped over a number of pages and read his notes.

‘Ah… here we go….’ Bowen stood from his chair and moved to stand beside Jack. He held the note pad so Jack could read his notes.

‘Is that written in English, Doc…?’ Jack said.

‘It’s not that bad. Look here.’ Bowen indicated some handwritten notes half way down the page. Jack followed Bowen’s finger as he translated his notes.

’I wrote, the patient asked me if he could make some arrangements to stop coming to these sessions. I asked him what he meant by that question. He said, could I just record it on his file that I was here, but not actually have to attend. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

’I told him that I couldn’t do that. He was here under a court order. If he failed to follow the court order, he would be sentenced back to Juvie.

‘This is where he made the threat.’ Bowen indicated the relevant text. ‘He said to me that if I didn’t arrange it so he didn’t have to attend these sessions, he would say I touched him on his… penis. That’s my word, not his. His word was a little more offensive. And he said he would say that I asked him to…’ Bowen paused. ‘Suck my dick.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s all there, Detective. He lied to the police and they believed him.’

Jack read the text indicated by Bowen. He shook a confused head. ’You showed the detectives these notes…?

‘Of course I did. See that’s the frustrating thing about all this. The police from the SVD had already made up their minds. I was guilty. When they saw these notes, they tried to say I made them after the fact. Which is absurd. You only need to read through them to see that could not be the case. They were clearly contemporaneous.’

‘OK, Doc…’ Jack began. ‘That’s all we need for now. We’ve taken up enough of your time.’ Jack stood from his chair. Spence followed.

‘Please tell me you won’t be back…’

Jack grinned. That was a promise he wouldn’t be making.

Chapter 35

Ryan Bowen stood in the kitchen of his Upper West Side apartment as he topped us his glass of red. He returned to his lounge room, lowered himself into his favorite tan leather recliner, lifted the remote and ‘un-paused’ the cross-town rivalry game between New York Knicks and Brooklyn Nets.

As a long-time Knicks fan, the New York City shrink never missed a game. He regularly attended homes games at Madison Square Gardens, and when he couldn’t make the game, he watched them live on TV. In the worst-case scenario, he watched it on replay.

Tonight’s game was in Brooklyn, so it was live TV viewing on ESPN.

Since separating from his wife, Bowen moved into his current 14th floor, spacious two-bedroom apartment with views to Central Park.

Even after being financially carved up from his divorce settlement, he still managed to secure this stylish apartment, which he owned, or rather, paid a sizeable mortgage on.

He was in the process of screaming at the referee for missing an obvious foul, as every passionate supporter does, when his cell phone began vibrating on the coffee table.

He lifted the cell and examined the display. He paused the game and took the call.

‘Hey. What’s up…? Just watching the game. Who’s up…? Ah… Knicks by six, four minutes into the 2nd… Aha. That’s right. How did you know the cops visited me three times…? Damn. Word spreads fast around here. Nothing. I told them absolutely nothing. The reason they came back a third time was because they were making inquiries about a street kid who was a former patient of mine. OK. Yeah, of course. I’ll be here. We can share a red and watch the second half. OK. See you soon.’ He ended the call then pressed play on the remote.

Bowen lifted his glass and took a sip, then had a light bulb moment. He quickly checked his wine rack. As he suspected, he was on his last bottle of red, the contents of which would be insufficient for two to share. Especially if they started to go down well with his visitor.

Following a quick check of his watch, he grabbed his wallet and keys then lifted his coat from the coat rack beside the front door. He stopped, rolled his eyes, went back and paused the game, then left on a bee-line to the nearest liquor store, two blocks over, on Broadway.

With the ten-minute brisk walk in each direction being through biting icy winds, he rued his decision to hurry out the door, forgetting his beanie and gloves.

The longer he remained outside, the colder his hands became. The colder his hands were, the harder it was to keep a firm grip on the three bottles of red he purchased.

By the time he arrived back at his building, his jaw ached from the cold. He watched every breath as it dissipated.

The doctor sighed his relief when he stepped inside his building. It wasn’t heated in the foyer, but it was out of the freezing wind.

He hit the elevator call button then shuffled the weight on his feet, to try and warm up his toes. He hoped his visitor appreciated his efforts to acquire the beverages for them to share.

The Doc exited the elevator at the 14th floor. His apartment was to his right, the last one down a long hallway. He stopped in his tracks and frowned when he saw a blonde-haired woman, dressed in all black clothing, wearing a black baseball cap, standing with her back to him. Her ear was pressed against his apartment door. She was not his expected guest.

When the woman stepped back from the door, he noticed she held a pistol with a long suppressor attached, against her leg.

Ryan froze. His mouth fell open. His pulse quickened. The blood pumped in his ear. What the fuck’s going on?

When the woman knocked on his door, he held his breath as he slowly walked backwards towards the elevator. He kept his eyes firmly locked onto her. Moving in slow motion he quietly pushed the call button. His eyes never left the woman at his door.

The woman knocked a second time on the apartment door, then pressed her ear to the door. She then looked through the door’s peep hole.

As the elevator door sprung open, her head snapped in Ryan’s direction. She lifted her pistol at him, then started running to Ryan. It was obvious she meant business. He quickly boarded the elevator, hit the ground floor button and then repeatedly pushed the Door Close button. ‘Come on…Come on…’ he pleaded.

The doors started to close but they moved in what seemed like slow motion. ‘Come on…’ he pleaded. The tension in his shoulders started to ease when the doors had almost closed.

His heart skipped a beat when a gloved hand jammed in between the narrow gap of the almost closed doors. The elevator doors started to open again.

Ryan gulped heavily when the opening doors slowly revealed the lifeless eyes of the blonde women in the baseball cap, staring back at him.

He pushed himself back against the rear wall of the elevator when the woman entered. His mouth became dry. His words struggled to pass the lump in his throat. ‘What do you want…?’

‘You khave becamm lybility…’

Ryan’s eyes fell to the large silencer as she lifted the pistol up to him. ‘Please.’ He held up a hand. ‘No…’

‘Hold the lift please!’ a female voice yelled from the hallway.

The woman glanced over a shoulder. She turned to the voice as she lowered the pistol and hid it behind her back. At the same time, Ryan lunged at the Door Open button, pressing it repeatedly like his life depended on it staying open; which of course, it did.

Three, twenty-somethings—two males and one female—, scurried aboard the elevator. ‘Thank you,’ the young woman said.

The woman with the gun stepped back, as they hurried in to beat the closing doors. They stood between her and the exit doors. Ryan moved over near the buttons. His eyes never left the gun woman. Her narrowed eyes glared back at him.

‘Oh, good evening, Doctor Bowen,’ the bubbly young woman said. Her eyes fell to the bottles he carried. ‘Going visiting, are we…?’

Partially paralyzed with fear, Ryan tried to respond but his words choked somewhere in his throat. He forced a smile.

The young woman glanced over a shoulder and nodded a silent greeting to the shooter standing behind her.

Ryan watched the doors slowly inch closed. With around fifteen inches remaining until fully closed, Ryan leapt through the diminishing gap in the closing doors, while the shooter was pinned behind the three young people.

He made it, but the bottles of red wine weren’t so lucky. They became hooked on the door, as he slid through and crashed to the elevator floor. The last thing he saw before the doors tightly closed was his choice of red spaying across the feet of the young people who just saved his life.

He held his breath until the numbers above the elevator door started their downward count. He hadn’t had time to consider all his options when the elevator numbers stopped on the floor below. The reality hit hard. This woman was on her way back up to him.

Ryan sprinted to his apartment. His heart pounded. His breathing labored as he fumbled for his keys. His fingers felt like fat sausages as he frantically searched for the right key.

He found it, but as he tried to insert the key into the lock, the keys slipped from his grip and crashed to the floor.

‘Shit… Shit… Shit…’ he blurted as he quickly retrieved them and repeated the action, this time successfully.

As he flung his door open, the woman stepped out from the stair well. His eyes flared when she levelled her pistol and fired.

The round smacked into the wall behind him, as he lunged into the safety of his apartment. He slammed the door shut, then moved clear of the door, in case she fired through it.

His heart tried to kick its way out of his chest, it beat so hard. He was on wobbly knees while he stood deep in his kitchen calling 9-1-1.

The operator had already received two other calls about shots fired at his address. His pleas to hurry were met with a reassurance police were on their way.

Ryan’s voice trembled when he called out, ‘I’ve called the police. They’re on their way…’ He had no idea if she heard him, or if she was still outside his door, but it made him feel safer.

He trusted the deadlocks fitted to his door, but the door wouldn’t stop bullets, so he kept well clear from any line of sight to the front door.

Ryan was on his 4th glass of red, the first three of which were emptied like shots, when the heavy pounding on his apartment door startled him. He held his breath, listening. He didn’t move. Please be the cops?

There was a second heavy knock on his door. ‘Mr. Bowen. This is the police,’ a male voice yelled. ‘Open your door, please.’

He exhaled heavily then moved to his apartment door, standing off to the side. ’How do I know you’re the police…?’He yelled back.

‘You called 9-1-1 about shots fired in your hallway.’

‘What precinct are you from?’

‘We’re from the twentieth precinct, which is located at 120 West 82nd Street, sir. I can reassure you, it is safe now. You can open your door.’

Ryan released the deadlocks and slowly opened his door. He peered out through the narrow opening. Two male uniform cops glared back. He opened the door fully.

‘You’ve got no idea how glad I am to see you gentlemen.’

One of the cops gestured to the bullet hole in the wall beside his door. ‘I assume this is from the shots you reported…?’

‘I still don’t know how it missed me. The sound it made when it smacked into the wall behind me is something that will never leave me.’

‘Can we come in?’

‘Please.’ He stepped back from his doorway. ’Ryan poked his head out and checked the hallway. As illogical as this action was, it was more of an instinctive action, to reassure himself she’d gone.

‘Did you get a look at the person who fired on you in the hallway?’ The taller of the two cops asked.

‘Absolutely. Her image is indelibly etched into my brain. I’ll be seeing her in my nightmares.’

The cop flipped open his note pad. With his pen poised, he waited for the doctor to start his explanation.

By the time he’d finished, both cops were suitably impressed at the amount of detail he provided of his attacker.

‘Do you have any idea as to why this woman chose to shoot at you…?’

’Not in the slightest. As I said, a friend of mine rang… Asked if I’d be home tonight. I told him I was watching the Knicks game and invited him over to watch it with me.

‘Before he got here, I ducked out to get some more wine. When I returned, she—’ Bowen cut himself off. He frowned.

‘Mr. Bowen…?’ The cop asked. ‘Did you remember something…?’

Bowen rubbed a hand across his mouth. He was deep in thought. His eyes darted.

The cop repeated his question. ‘Mr. Bowen? Was there something you just remembered…?’

Bowen waved the back of his hand. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, really. I just had a bit of a chill when I thought about what if the bullet hit me. Call it early onset PTSD, if you like…’

The cop wasn’t convinced. ‘OK. If that’s the answer you want to give. Who was the friend who rang you?’

‘Look… He’s not actually a friend. More of an associate. There is no reason to get him involved…’

‘Did your associate end up stopping by…?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Does that surprise you…?’

‘Maybe he did come by, I don’t know now. Maybe all the cop cars out front probably scared him away.’

The cops weren’t convinced. Satisfied they had everything they needed, they left after giving him instructions to call 9-1-1 if the woman came back, or if he had any more concerns.

Chapter 36

Hump day for Jack meant another week was half over and he was no closer to closing this case out.

The hand brake had been applied because there had not been any recent sightings of Nadya. She’d gone to ground.

The only constant was Bowen’s name, which kept coming up. But so far, everything about him failed to have any traction. Nothing linked Bowen to the shootings.

It was frustrating for Jack. He was satisfied he had his shooter; he just couldn’t locate her. What he didn’t know was, her motive. Was she a hired gun, or did she personally have issues with pedophiles?

Spence wandered into Jack’s office after returning from his take-out coffee run. He handed Jack his coffee then slid into the visitor’s chair at Jack’s desk.

He dumped his size nines onto Jack’s desk and reclined his chair. He glanced at the whiteboard. ‘Everything hinges on finding Nadya, doesn’t it…?’

Jack scanned the board. ‘It does… I’m not convinced she was acting alone in this, though…’

‘So, do you think Nadya was the shooter, but she was hired to do the job…?’

‘I do. Do I have any evidence to support that suspicion…? Unfortunately, not at this time,’ Jack said. ‘It’s just a gut feeling I have.’

‘Experience tells me to trust your gut. I can’t remember the last time it was wrong.’

Jack’s desk phone began to warble. He checked the display then answered the call. ‘Hey Scott. Yep. From where…? Twentieth precinct…? Did he say what he wanted? OK. Send him through.’ He hung up the receiver. ‘An officer from the twentieth is coming up with some information he thinks I might be interested in.’

Spence dropped his feet to the floor. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Do you want me to go…?’

Jack held up a hand. ‘Nah, stay. If he’s got information about this…’ he jabbed a thumb at the whiteboard. ‘Then you may as well hear it.’

A young female uniform officer from front reception knocked on Jack’s door. ‘Excuse me, Lieutenant… I’ve got Officer Bevan Hawk from the 20th to see you…’

‘Thank you, Jean…’

The cop entered the office. Jean returned to the front desk. Following the customary handshakes, Jack gestured to the visitor’s chair beside Spence. Bevan took a seat.

Jack slid into his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘What has the twentieth got for us…?’

’At 8.53pm last Friday night we were called to shots fired inside an apartment building on the Upper West Side… There were no casualties. Fortunately the round missed.

‘Forensics pulled a slug from the wall and did a quick ballistics analysis. The slug matched six other rounds recorded in the system that were linked to an active homicide case. Your name was listed as the contact person. So I thought you might like to know that.’

‘So… Let me see if I’m understanding you. Someone fired a gun at a wall in an apartment and the round that was pulled from the wall matches our ongoing case…?’

‘Correct.’

‘Why was the gun fired into the wall…?’

‘It wasn’t. The shooter fired at a resident. The shot missed and hit the wall.’

‘Ah. I see. OK. Do we know who the shooter was?’

‘No. She’d left by the time we arrived.’

‘She…?’ Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance.

‘Yep. Apparently, the shooter was a female who spoke with a strong Russian Accent.’

Jack’s interest piqued even more. ‘Did the vic describe this female shooter…?’

‘He did. In amazing detail,’ Bevan said. ’He opened his note pad and turned a couple of pages. ‘Ah… Female. Slight build. Blonde hair. Wearing a dark baseball cap and—’

‘Something like this…?’ Jack gestured to the whiteboard and the ten by eight color photo of the Central Park shooter, whom he suspected to be Nadya.

Bevan’s focus shifted to the photo. His mouth fell open. ‘Ah… I’d say, exactly like that. Do you know the shooter…?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No. But she is the shooter in our active homicide case.’

‘OK. So that explains why the rounds matched your case.’

‘Who was the vic she shot at…?’

Bevan checked his notes. ‘Ah… The complainant was a Ryan Bowen. He’s a—’

‘Shrink…’ Jack said. Bevan’s stunned gaze lifted from his notes. Jack pointed to the photo of Bowen on the whiteboard.

Bevan’s eyebrows arched. ‘What. Do you know him too…?’

‘We do…’

‘Is he a suspect, as well…?’

‘More like a person of interest.’

‘OK… Here I was thinking I’d be giving you some useful information.’

‘You did. Especially when you told us who the victim was.’

‘It also lets us know that as of last Friday evening, our shooter is still around. So that is also useful,’ Spence added.

‘Why was she shooting at Bowen…?’ Jack asked.

‘He had no idea why? He thought it was completely random.’

‘Any witnesses…? Anyone see her leaving the building?’

‘Not that we could locate.’

‘OK…’ Jack stood from his chair. ‘Thanks for coming down and sharing that with us.’ Bevan stood. He shook Jack’s hand. ‘Detective Sergeant Spencer will see you out.’

Bevan nodded once as a silent farewell and left the office with Spence.

When Spence returned, Jack was perched on the side of his desk with his arms crossed. He was deep in contemplation.

‘Bowen’s name just won’t go away, will it…?’ Spence said.

Jack continued to study the whiteboard. ‘What worries me Spence is… If our suspicions are correct, each one of these victims were killed because they were part of a Brooklyn child sex ring… Correct?’

‘Correct?’

‘And we suspect each one was shot by her.’ He flicked a finger at the photo of the blonde woman in the black cap.

‘Correct…’

‘OK… So stay with me here. Bowen was identified by Deshawn as being part of that group. Bowen denied it of course. Then we find he was also interviewed and charged with interfering with an eleven-year-old boy. Bowen denied that too. But, do you remember when we noticed that of all the photos Deshawn selected, Bowen was the only one still alive…?’

‘I do…’

‘And now our cop friend here from the twentieth has just informed us that, as of last Friday night, she…’ He leaned on the photo of the blonde shooter. ‘Tried to shoot Bowen…’

Spence slowly nodded his understanding. ’I see where you’re coming from. You think this was an arranged hit on Bowen because he actually was part of this pedo group, like Deshawn said?’

Jack nodded while he continued to study the whiteboard. ‘It’s looking more and more like it,’ Jack said. ‘But if that is the case and Bowen’s number did come up… Firing at him in a hallway seems incredibly messy and unprofessional. I mean… It was nothing like all of these here.’ He waved a hand at the whiteboard. ‘Two in the chest… one in the head… Neat and tidy across every one.’

‘So, why did she shoot at him in the hall?’

’Good question… ‘Look at the shooting of Seamus O’Brien…’ Jack tapped his photo. ‘He was shot through the door’s peep hole. The shooter didn’t miss when there was a door between her and the vic, but she missed Bowen, presumably while he was standing in the hall outside his apartment.’

‘It certainly isn’t the actions of a trained special ops killer, is it…?’ Spence said.

‘Is it possible the shooter on Friday wasn’t Nadya…?’

‘It’s possible, but how do you explain the description given by Bowen clearly matched her…?’ He flicked a finger at the photo of Nadya.

‘Could Bowen have been fleeing from her to his apartment, when she fired on him and missed…?’

‘Anything’s possible,’ Spence said. ‘But why was he fleeing…? None of them seem to have had the chance to flee. I’m guessing they were all ambushed, but not Bowen, apparently. Why…?’

’Looks like we’re speaking to Bowen for a fourth time. At this stage, only he can provide answers to these questions.’

Spence checked his watch. ‘I’m gonna have to eat before we do anything else, while there is a brief window…’

‘Let’s do it…’ Jack said as he moved towards his office door.

Feeling suitably satiated from a pasta lunch at Al Dente’s, Jack and Spence wandered back into the police station, on their return to the office.

While they casually traversed the entry foyer towards the back of house, Jack glanced at the forty-something male and female talking to a cop at the public inquiry counter.

Jack frowned. He stopped walking. Spence continued for two or three steps, then he too stopped. ‘What’s up?’ Spence said.

Jack’s focus remained on the couple at the counter. ‘Did you hear what they just said…?’

‘No.’

‘I could be wrong, but it sounded like they just mentioned 96 Carter Place…’

‘Marcus Goodfellow’s address…’ Spence said. knowingly.

‘Yep…’ Jack approached the couple at the counter. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

‘What can we do for you, Detective…?’ the desk cop said. ‘This is Detective Lieutenant Head from our Homicide Division,’ he announced to the couple.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your business here. But I was walking passed just now…’ he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ’Did you just mention an address in Williamsburg to this officer…?

‘I did…’ the male said. His face held a puzzled frown.

The desk cop clarified for Jack. ‘This is Mr. and Mrs. Lafeyette.’ He lifted a small white colored USB flash drive. ‘They found this item hidden in their new home. They said it contains illegal and offensive material. They intended to take it to the Williamsburg Police Station, but as they were in the city today on business, they decided to drop it in here instead.’

‘I see. Do you mind if I ask what your address is?’ Jack said.

‘Ninety-six Carter Place, Williamsburg,’ the male said.

Jack nodded his understanding. ‘That’s the address I thought I heard you say to this officer.’ He gestured to the USB flash drive. ‘By any chance, does that offensive material you referred to, relate to child pornography…?’

Mr. and Mrs. Lafeyette exchanged a surprised glance. ‘As a matter of fact… It does,’ Mr. Lafayette said. ‘It is disgusting. But, how… how did you know that?’

Jack deliberately ignored the question. ‘How long have you lived at ninety-six Carter Place…?’

‘We bought the place several months ago, but it only settled last week. We’ve been slowly moving in ever since…’

‘Where did you find that USB flash drive…? You said it was hidden…’

’My wife accidentally spilt a glass of red on the timber floor. The red wine spread across the floor, as you’d expect it would, except for this small section of one floorboard. Instead, the wine seeped down through the timber join.

‘I was concerned about damage to the sub-flooring, so when I inspected it closer, I found the floor board was not attached. I levered the floorboard up and found this boxed off area underneath, you know, four sides and no lid.’ He flicked a finger at the white USB on the counter. ‘That was in the enclosed box…’

Jack lifted the USB drive. ‘Was there anything else in there?’

‘No.’

‘Well done. I’ll take care of this,’ Jack said to the cop. ‘It is actually relevant to an ongoing investigation.’

Mr. Lafeyette’s face tightened. ‘A homicide investigation?’ He didn’t wait for a response. ‘Are you saying someone was killed in our home and we weren’t told about it…?’

‘No. That’s definitely not what I’m saying,’ Jack said. ‘But thank you for this.’ Jack held the USB flash drive up to the couple. ‘Can you provide Mr. and Mrs. Lafeyette with a receipt for this, then sign it out to me at homicide.’ The cop nodded his understanding.

Mr. and Mrs. Lafeyette’s faces wore a ‘what the hell just happened’ expression, as they watched Jack meet up with Spence, then disappear through a door leading through to back-of-house.

Chapter 37

After logging the USB flash drive into the homicide evidence register, Jack and Spence sat down at Jack’s desk to examine its contents.

They already had a heads up it contained child porn, so Jack was as prepared as he could be, given his aversion to any form of child abuse.

The one terabyte flash drive was full with files, photographs and videos, each separated into their own main folder.

Jack opened the “Files” folder. Thumbnails of numerous Microsoft Word, .Pdfs and Excel spreadsheet documents appeared.

He opened a thumbnail that resembled an accounts spreadsheet. Microsoft Excel opened a spreadsheet, with a list of three hundred fifty, alphabetically sorted names. A different dollar value was recorded beside each name in a column titled “Contribution”.

Jack glanced at his whiteboard. The first face he saw looking back at him was Judge Davis. He scrolled down to the list. The judge was the 3rd name in the list beginning with “D”. An amount of $26,350 appeared beside his name.

‘Try Goodfellow…’ Spence suggested.

Jack scrolled to the “G’s”.

As expected, Goodfellow was listed. An amount of $19,150 was recorded beside his name.

They continued to check the list for each of their victims. Each appeared with a dollar amount in the thousands beside their names.

‘Check for Bowen…?’ Spence said.

‘Ah… Yes, Bowen,’ Jack said. He scrolled back up to the “B” surnames. His stunned gaze flicked to Spence seated beside him. ‘Piece of shit…’ He blurted when he saw Ryan Bowen’s name listed. He only had a small dollar value in the hundreds beside his name, but he was there.

’Fucken ass ‘ole said he didn’t know Goodfellow…’ Jack blurted.

‘Looks like he’s lied all along,’ Spence said. ‘What’s that second tab for…?’

Jack selected the second of the two unnamed tabs in the spread sheet. A list of alphabetically sorted names appeared.

‘More names,’ Jack said.

Spence tapped the screen. ‘There’s Deshawn Baker’s name,’ he said. ‘Maybe this is a list of the kids they groomed.’

Jack scrolled to the end of the list. There were over twelve hundred names recorded. He shook his head.

The columns beside each name that stretched across the page, recorded an item and, or a dollar value.

In the first column beside Deshawn’s name it recorded “$100” only. The next column recorded “Air Jordan’s—$200”. The next column recorded “Gold chain – $90” And so it went on across the page. An “iPhone 12- $1100” was recorded eight columns over.

‘This looks like it’s a record of the gifts they gave to each of these kids, and the cost,’ Jack said.

Spence pointed to the amount of $850, 750 in a cell at the top of the page. ‘And I’d assume that there is the total spend to date…’

‘Why do you think some kid’s names are in red font and some are in black font?’ Jack asked. ‘Deshawn’s name is in black… But all these are in red.’

‘There’s more red than black names, isn’t there…?’

Jack had a light bulb moment. He dragged his case file over from the side of his desk and flipped it open. He walked his fingers through the pages and lifted some handwritten notes.

He scanned through each page, flipped it over until he found what he searched for.

‘Do you remember when we interviewed Deshawn?’ Jack began. ‘He mentioned some of his friends had gone missing, never to be seen again. These are your notes from that interview with Deshawn.’

‘I see where you’re going… You want to see if their names are on this list and if they are black or red font colors.’

Jack nodded as he searched the list for Kamoni Farmer’s name. According to Deshawn, his friend Kamoni went missing from this pedophile group. He was a missing person who was found deceased.

Kamoni’s name was on the list, in red font.

Jack checked Deshawn’s next friend, Eliyah Nash, whom Deshawn said was also still missing. As expected, she appeared under the “Ns’ in red font.

He then checked Deshawn’s friends, Davarius Bradford and Shaunee Ross. Their names were also listed in red font.

‘It looks like red font represents those kid’s they no longer needed…’ Jack said. His tone was morose.

‘So the front tab looks like donations each of these scum bags paid to fund this group, and the second page is their list of kids…’

‘Yep.’ Jack closed the spreadsheet and opened the folder named, “Party Passwords”.

Thumbnails of several Microsoft Word documents filled his screen. Each file name was a date. He randomly selected “May_14_2020” and opened it.

The same date as the file name appeared at the top of the page that opened. Beneath that was a long sentence that utilized poor sentence structure and no punctuation. Jack had seen these before.

‘This looks exactly like those long paragraphs Danny said were null cipher codes,’ Jack said.

‘Did you see the name of the folder these are in?’ Spence said. He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Party Passwords’.

‘So this must be all the passwords that were allocated to a respective party and sent out to the group members. This one was for a party on May 14…’ Jack said.

Jack shook his head. There was not much in this world that upset street hardened Jack Head. As a homicide cop, he’d seen and experienced about all there was to experience during his career. Until he saw this.

The abuse of innocent children was one thing he could not accept, or un-see. For his own sanity, he had to limit how much of this material he exposed himself to.

Jack took a deep breath then opened the video folder. He was anxious over what to expect. Hundreds of thumbnails appeared. He randomly selected a video file.

The footage opened and commenced playing on his screen. It started out harmless enough. Several middle-aged men sat on chairs formed in a large circle. Several other men stood behind these chairs.

After several minutes of footage of the men chatting among themselves, a man in his late fifties, holding a young girl’s hand, entered the circle of chairs. The girl would’ve been nine years old, at most.

When the escorting man began to remove the young girl’s clothing, Jack stopped the video. He shook his head. ‘We don’t need to watch that…’ he blurted.

Jack closed the folder and opened the “Photographs” folder. This folder had the most files, at 3800 images.

He glanced at Spence, as if to draw strength, then randomly selected and opened a photo. He rolled his eyes. ‘Ah, for fuck’s sake…’ he blurted, then closed the file.

Jack opened a second photo. Much of the same. Men engaged in sex acts with young girls, or boys. He quickly closed the image.

After scrolling several pages down, Jack stopped and randomly selected one last photo. He opened it. This photo was more subdued. It was similar in appearance to the video they’d earlier looked at.

A young girl stood in the middle of men seated in a circle. Fortunately, the young girl was fully clothed in the photo.

Jack shook his head as he closed the file.

‘Wait!’ Spence yelled.

‘What did you see?’

‘I’m not sure. Can you open that last photo again?’

Jack re-opened the file. The image filled his screen. Spence leaned in closer and examined the photo. After a few moments he stepped back.

The photograph of the group of males seated in a circle was taken by someone standing to the back of the circle of seated males. In the foreground, on the right side of the photograph, the shoulder and left arm of a person standing close to the photographer’s right side, had been captured. This person’s arms were crossed.

‘How good is your memory?’ Spence asked.

‘Reasonable…’

‘Do you recall our first visit to Ryan Bowen’s rooms…?’

‘Yep.’

‘What was it about his right hand that caught your attention?’

‘That butt ugly tattoo…’

Spence indicated the shoulder captured in the foreground. ‘See this person’s right hand there… Resting on his left bicep,’ Spence said.

Jack’s focus returned to the monitor. ‘The butt ugly tattoo,’ Jack said.

‘I doubt there’d be two of those going around…’

Jack’s jaw tightened. ‘Bowen…’ He said through gritted teeth. ’There’s the confirmation we needed to prove he was at these child sex parties…’

‘Now we know he is part of this sick-fuck group, and unlike all of them…’ He jabbed his head at the whiteboard. ‘He’s still alive. I think he knows more about these shootings than he is letting on,’ Spence said. ‘I wonder if he was shot at by Nadya because he is one of them, or to silence him.’

‘More than ever, we’ve gotta bring him in.’ Jack checked his watch. ‘Fuck it. Let’s go grab him.’ Jack closed the files.

‘Do you wanna grab him under an arrest warrant?’

‘We don’t have enough evidence for the murders…’

‘But we have enough on him for child porn and child abuse…’

‘We certainly do…’

Chapter 38

This time when Jack and Spence entered the waiting rooms of Midtown Psychiatry, they didn’t approach the receptionist. This time they moved in a direct line though the waiting rooms, to Doctor Bowen’s treating room door.

‘Excuse me…’ The young receptionist called out. Jack, Spence and the two uniform cops didn’t respond, or break stride.

She tried again. ‘Excuse me, Detective. You can’t go in there. Doctor Bowen is with a patient.’

When Jack reached the door, he opened it and stormed in, followed by his cop entourage.

Bowen stood from his chair. ‘What the hell’s going on here…?’

‘I’m terribly sorry for this interruption, ma’am…’ Jack said as he moved towards the patient sofa. ‘But this session is over.’ He grabbed hold of the thirty-something year old woman’s arm and gently eased her to her feet. He gestured to the door.

‘How dare you barge in like this when I’m conducting a session with a patient. You’ve crossed the line this time, Detective. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.’

Jack glanced over a shoulder to check the female patient had left the office. She had. ‘Get the door…’ He barked to one of the uniform cops.

He waited until the door was closed before he took hold of Bowen and forcefully spun the much smaller man around and applied handcuffs. ‘You are under arrest, you piece of shit,’ Jack said.

‘Under arrest. Arrest for what? This is insane. You have been harassing me now for weeks. You won’t get away with this.’

Jack held out a hand to Spence, who slapped the arrest warrant into Jack’s open hand. Jack held the warrant up so Bowen could read it.

Bowen frowned as his eyes perused the document. His eyebrows arched in realization after he’d completed reading.

‘What. Nothing further to say, Doc…’ Jack said. He took hold of the cuffed Bowen by his bicep and forcefully dragged him towards the door. He gave him a final shove towards one of the uniform cops. ‘Take him down to the vehicle,’ Jack said.

Bowen sat alone at a table in the interview room with his hands clasped on the table, while he scanned the uninviting room.

Jack and Spence stood on the other side of the large two-way mirror in the adjacent viewing room, looking in on Bowen.

‘I’m hoping this isn’t going to turn out to be an interview about child porn, Spence. I’m hoping he’s got something for us about our shootings…’

‘Let’s go and find out,’ Spence said.

Bowen’s head snapped to his left when Jack and Spence barged into the room. Jack glared his contempt for Bowen, as he dumped his file on the table and took up his seat opposite. Spence placed a laptop on the table and slid in beside Jack.

Bowen’s inquisitive eyes flicked back and forth between Spence and Jack, during the extended silence.

Jack maintained his intimidating glare on Bowen as he sat back in his chair and tightly crossed his arms. ‘I asked you if you knew Marcus Goodfellow. You told me you did not…’

‘I said—’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Jack’s deep voice blurted. Bowen’s eye’s flared in fear at the big man’s reaction. ’You talk when I ask you a question. Do I make myself clear…? When Bowen failed to respond, Jack said, ‘I said… Do I make myself clear?’

‘I’m not one of your low-life criminals, Detective…’

Jack forcefully slammed both his hands onto the table and pushed himself up to stand. The slap sound reverberated off the interview room walls.

He glared down at Bowen with a stare no man could hold for long. He leant down on his hands. ‘No… You’re fucken much worse. You’re a gutter dwelling piece of shit… And I’m over being civil with you. You’ve done nothing but fuck us around…’

‘There’s no need to over react…’

‘Over reac—’ He marched around to Bowen’s side of the table and grabbed fistfuls of Bowen’s jumper and dragged him to his feet.

At five feet, eight inches, Bowen was around one foot shorter than Jack and about one hundred pounds lighter.

Jack forcefully pushed Bowen backwards and slammed him into the wall. Bowen’s face winced in pain. Jack pulled Bowen away from the wall, then forcefully slammed him back again. Bowen grunted.

‘You lost any right for respect as a human being when you started abusing kids, you sick fuck.’

‘I haven’t abused any kids. I keep telling you that.’

Jack threw Bowen to the ground. He slid along the floor on impact. Bowen rolled over and held up a defensive hand to Jack. ‘Why are you doing this…?’

‘Because you fucken lied to us about being involved in abusing children.’

‘I didn’t lie…’ His hand was still raised up in defense.

Jack stood over Bowen. ‘I asked you if you knew Marcus Goodfellow. You said no. When Deshawn Baker identified you as being part of a child sex group, you denied it.’ Jack walked around to his side of the table. ‘Get the fuck up…’ he waved an aggressive arm at Bowen.

Bowen slowly stood. He adjusted his clothing then resumed his seat.

Jack glanced over a shoulder and circled a finger in the air; his instruction to Peter in the next room to start recording.

Spence turned the laptop screen around to face Bowen. He tapped a key. The photo of the men seated in a circle around a young girl filled the screen.

Bowen leaned forward and examined the photo. He frowned. ‘What am I looking at…?’

‘You,’ Spence said.

Bowen’s frowning eyes returned to the screen. Spence held out a hand. ‘Give me your hand,’ He gestured to Bowen’s right hand.

Bowen extended his hand. Spence grabbed it and aggressively dragged Bowen closer. He pointed to the tattoo on Bowen’s hand.

‘There is no way two people have a tattoo as ugly as that…’ Spence said. ‘So… Therefore that must be you standing there, in this picture with all these sick fuck men watching that poor defenseless young girl.’ Spence indicated the tattoo on a hand in the picture.

Bowen moved his head closer and examined the photo. His eyebrows arched in realization it was his tattoo in the photo.

‘You can kiss your career goodbye, Doc,’ Jack began. ‘And you can kiss your huge salary goodbye… Your fancy apartment and your lifestyle… In fact, you can kiss your life as you know it, goodbye. Coz where you’re going… I doubt you will have much of life span left. See, they hate kiddy fiddlers inside.’

Bowen shook his head. ‘No. No. No… You’ve got this all wrong… I wasn’t lying to you… I’m not one of them…’ He flicked a hand at the laptop screen. ‘In fact, I despise them. They made my skin crawl.’

‘And yet here you are in this photo watching a young girl strip in front of all these men,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve seen the video. It made me sick.’

‘It made me sick, too. Every time. Don’t you understand…? Everything is not as it seems, Detective.’

‘Is that right…? Why don’t you enlighten me…’

Bowen sighed heavily. He collapsed back in his chair. He scratched his face stubble. ‘When I was nine years old, I was an altar boy at my church. For three years my priest raped me, weekly.’ Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance as Bowen continued.

‘He said it was the will of God. He made me believe that if I told anyone, not only would they not believe me, but I would go straight to hell…’ Bowen shook his head. ’I was young and naïve. I believed him and said nothing.

‘The stress of what he did to me. The pain every time he…’ Bowen’s eyes slammed shut. When they opened, they fell heavily to the table. ‘It never leaves you…’ Bowen touched his right arm. ‘I had some form of seizure from the stress he caused me. Do you understand…? He was raping me… a nine-year-old boy, who had no idea why this was happening. I hated him for it. I had a mini stroke, or some sort of medical episode while he was inside me, which caused this…’ He tapped his right arm. ‘Fortunately, I only lost partial use of my right arm.’

Bowen rolled up his sleeves to reveal several well-healed scars. ‘I tried several times to kill myself. What twelve-year-old tries to slash their wrists…?’ Bowen pointed to his hand tattoo. ‘This scar here under my tattoo… It wasn’t from an accident. It was another failed attempt to take my own life… Every time I looked at it… It was a constant reminder of what happened to me. So you see, Detective…’ He said, addressing Spence. ‘This “ugly tattoo” you referred to… was put there to cover a daily reminder of my past.’

Jack was completely blindsided. He did not see that coming. ‘But here’s what I don’t understand…’ Jack began. ‘You say you were abused as a child, so you know firsthand the trauma that abuse caused. Yet here you are participating in a child sex group in Brooklyn… What am I missing here?’ Jack said.

’This is what you’re not understanding. I wasn’t participating. I never participated in anything…’

‘You’re there… That’s participating.’

‘Allow me to take you back a few years…’ Bowen said. ‘Then you may understand.’

‘OK…’ Jack extended a hand.

’Around three, or so years ago, I was treating an eleven-year-old boy with numerous issues – Anger… Stress… Severe drug abuse. He was ordered by the courts to attend my sessions.

’My sessions revealed he had been groomed for one of these parties. This kid’s detail of what happened to him at these parties was sickening. My past flooded back to me when I listened to this poor kid’s story.

‘He knew the address of where these parties were held each week. I asked him if he recognized any of the men at these parties. He said one was the judge who sentenced him…’

‘Judge Davis…?’ Jack clarified.

Bowen nodded. ‘After hearing the distress these people caused to this young boy… It brought back all my anger from the past. I decided it was time I did something about these people…’

‘Did you decide at that time to kill them…?’

’No. What? No. No. I wanted to bring them all down… expose them. See… I knew the judge from The Yale Club, so I took whatever time I needed to get to know him better. Before long, he invited me to join his drinking group at the club.

’Over time. I had to win his trust. I talked about subjects that sickened me… Repulsed me… To win him over.

’Eventually, he thought I was one of them, and he invited me to a party. I went. It was one of the hardest things I ever did… But I went and continued to go to win his, and everybody else’s trust.

‘What I did was… burrow my way deep into this group to win their trust and along the way, I compiled a dossier so incriminating, it would destroy them all. I have numerous photographs and videos of every group member, many of whom maintain a high public profile.’

‘So you have a file on everyone in this group…?’

Bowen nodded. ‘Everyone in this group and a number of others up the East Coast.’

‘Where is this dossier…?’

‘It’s all electronic… Hidden in my office.’

‘So, were you intending to take this information to the police…?’

Bowen shook his head. A smirk emerged out the side of his face. ‘No. Not the cops… the media. It will make your skin crawl to see what type of so-called respectable people belong to these groups. The media would do far more damage to them than what any court could do.’

‘Can you produce this dossier to me…?’

‘Absolutely…’

Jack removed the five victims’ photos from his file and placed them on the table in front of Bowen. ‘What I’m hearing is… You have a deep-seated hatred for these… these people who abuse kids.’ He waved a hand across the photos. ‘So I’m gonna ask you… Did you kill these people, or were you in any way involved in their deaths…?’

‘Absolutely not. Every one of them is in my dossier. As far as I’m concerned, killing them would’ve been too easy for them… It would’ve given them an out from what awaited them.’

‘OK… So you’re telling me you’re not one of these people who abuse kids. I hear that. But someone must believe you are, otherwise, why were you shot at in your apartment building last Friday evening…?’

‘Oh. You heard about that…?’

‘Of course we did. We suspect the person who shot at you also killed these people.’ Jack indicated the five photos. ‘So whoever hired the shooter, must’ve considered you were one of them and was trying to get rid of you…’

‘I don’t agree…’

‘How can you be so certain?’

Bowen rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘Look. I can give you your shooter. But before I do, I need a deal. I need indemnity from prosecution.’ He held up a finger. ‘Let me be clear. I didn’t kill anyone…’

‘I can’t give that. But if you tell me what you know and if it helps catch our shooter, I can certainly put a case forward…’

Chapter 39

Bowen steepled his fingers in front of his lips while he considered his options. ‘What if I include giving police all the information in my dossier? There are some big names in there.’

Jack shook his head. ‘Same answer. I need to see what you’ve got and if it will help catch our killer.’

‘OK… I’m prepared to roll the dice,’ Bowen said. ‘You’re going to want to hear this…’ He adjusted himself in his chair. ‘Last Friday… At first I was confused as to why the woman shot at me. I thought it was a random attack…’

‘And now…?’

‘After the cops came to take a report, I remembered that a person I know called me earlier that night…’

‘A friend…?’

Bowen shook his head. ‘Oh, let me reassure you… He’s no friend, especially after what happened last Friday.’

‘Continue…’ Jack said.

’This person called me and asked if I would be home in the next thirty minutes. He said he needed to discuss something with me. So I told him I would be. I invited him over to share a red and watch the second half of the Knicks-Nets game.

’After I hung up, I remembered I didn’t have any red left, so I ducked out to the liquor store. Took me about thirty minutes. When I returned and stepped off the elevator, this woman was at my apartment door. She had one of the biggest pistols I’ve ever seen.

‘She saw me and chased me into the elevator. If it wasn’t for the three people who stepped into the elevator after us… I’d be dead. That I’m sure of.’

‘So how did you get away?’

‘The woman with the gun stood at the back, behind the three other people. I was to the side…’

Jack nodded his understanding. ‘So you jumped out just before the doors closed,’ Jack predicted.

‘Correct. She got off at the next floor below and ran up the internal fire stairs. I was at my door when she fired at me.’

‘OK…’

‘See that’s when it hit me…’ Bowen said. ‘This person rang me and asked if I would be home in the next thirty minutes. I said I would be. I didn’t say I’d be ducking out to the liquor store. Thirty minutes later… this woman with the gun is knocking on my door.’

‘Did this caller ever turn up?’

‘No.’

‘You think that call, to check if you’d be home, was setting you up for the shooter to visit…?’

‘Has to be, doesn’t it…?’

‘Did you get a look at the shooter?’

‘Of course. I stared into her lifeless, black eyes.’

Jack opened his folder and slid out a photo of the Central Park suspect with blonde hair, whom they suspected was Nadya. ‘Is this her…?’

Bowen leaned forward and examined the photo. He sat back. ‘That’s her…’ he confidently said.

Jack removed a photo of Nadya’s NYU student ID photo they obtained under warrant. ‘What about this person…?’

‘That’s her… But she had blonde hair. Everything else is definitely her.’

‘So she’s the woman who shot at you in your apartment building?’

‘Absolutely…’

‘My question is, why…? Why did the person who called you, send her around to kill you, if you are not one of these pedophiles….?’

Bowen shrugged. Jack sensed Bowen clearly knew more than he let on. But who was he protecting, and why? This person tried to have him killed.

‘Who is the person who called you…?’

‘Look… At this stage, I don’t want to say his name…?’

‘I’m at a loss to understand why…?’

‘Too dangerous. He’s already had one attempt on me…’

‘Even more reason to give him up… So we can get him before he gets you.’

Bowen shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

‘I’m not sure I agree but… OK. Tell me this… Is this person who called you Friday night to set you up, responsible for these deaths…?’ Jack indicated the five photographs on the table.

‘I think he was. Yes…’

‘So this person you’re protecting hired this woman…’ Jack tapped Nadya’s photo. ‘To kill these five people…?’

‘I believe so.’

‘And you…’ Spence added.

‘Aha.’

‘And you’re comfortable protecting his identity?’

‘I certainly didn’t say I was comfortable with it.’

‘Well, without a name, Doc, you haven’t given us squat… So there won’t be any deal for prosecution immunity. We need a name.’

Bowen leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. ‘Alright…’ He sighed heavily. ‘Do you recall talking to me about when I was charged with interfering with my eleven-year-old patient…?’

‘The charge that never made it to court…?’

‘That’s the one…’

‘What about it…?’

‘It never made it to court because the DA, or rather the ADA, ruled there was insufficient evidence to proceed.’

‘That’s how we understood it.’

Bowen shook his head. ‘That’s not how it was in reality… I wasn’t completely honest.’ Jack and Spence exchanged a brief glance. They suspected something wasn’t sitting true with Bowen and how his name kept coming up.

Bowen continued. ‘This kid was a patient of mine, but only for one session. When he arrived, he immediately recognized me from those parties I’d attended. See, he was one of the young kids they abused. When he saw me he went to the police and told them.’

‘So those patient notes about this kid’s threats against you that you showed me in your office…?’

‘Fabricated…’

Jack’s narrow-eyed glare met Spence. Finding out a crook lied to him never sat well with Jack. Often the lying crook found themselves lying prostrate on the floor, as they slowly returned to consciousness.

The only reason Bowen wasn’t on the receiving end was because Jack wanted to hear where this was going.

‘So he didn’t complain to police so he could avoid his shrink sessions? His complaint was about recognizing you from these parties, where he was abused?’

‘Correct. As I’ve said. I never did anything to anyone at these parties, but he identified me from being there and his evidence was incredibly detailed, so he had credibility.’

‘But the case never went anywhere…?’

‘There was definitely enough evidence to implicate me. The ADA made that perfectly clear to me. Even though I never did anything, in the eyes of the law, I was there at those parties, so I was considered a participant…’

‘Correct…’

‘So the ADA offered me a deal… He said I could kiss my career goodbye because I would definitely be looking at jail time, if it went to court. But he said if I would be prepared to give him the name of a high-profile pedophile from this group I was part of, he would not proceed with the case against me.’

‘Did you give him a name?’

Bowen nodded. ‘I did. And who could be more high profile than Judge Davis…?’

‘You gave him Judge Davis’ name? Then he shot the Judge?’

‘He didn’t… She did….’ He lifted his chin to Nadya’s picture. ‘But I had no idea he was going to kill the judge… I assumed he wanted a high-profile name because he wanted the recognition of charging the judge with child abuse…’

‘You said ADA…?’

‘That’s right…’

‘The only ADA I know is… Phil Box.’

Bowen shrugged. ‘What can I say?’ He upturned his palms. ‘If that’s the only ADA name you know.’ His voice trailed off.

‘Was it Phil Box who made the deal with you…?’

Bowen held Jack’s firm glare. He nodded once. The movement was so slight, it was as though he tried to disguise the nod, in case anyone was watching on.

‘Was it Phil Box who called you last Friday to see if you would be home…?’

Bowen’s confident eyes remained locked on Jack’s glare. He gave the same slight single nod.

Jack collapsed back in his chair. His stunned eyes met Spence. That name hit his ears hard. Phil Box was their first suspect, but the evidence against him was too circumstantial.

Add to that, his Tinder date confirmed everything Box told them, with regards to their date at the Opal Bar. She even corroborated her reason for ending the date. Box’s alibi was not only credible, but sound.

But that didn’t make it any easier for Jack to accept. A perfectionist always struggled to accept their failings. Jack was no exception.

‘Why were all these other people killed? The deal was for one high profile name… and you gave him that?’ Jack asked.

‘After the judge was shot, Box came back to me and said he needed another name. I told him that wasn’t our deal. He said he owned me now, and unless I complied, he would progress my charges to court. You see, I had no choice. So I gave him another name.’

‘And he kept asking for more names and you gave them to him…?’ Jack said as a question.

‘Yes.’

‘How did he contact you…?’

‘By cell…’

‘OK. So you would have these calls in your cell’s call register…?’

Bowen shook a firm head. ‘No. No. See… Everything is deleted. It was drummed into us in the group that all communications… Phone calls… Text messages… Emails… everything had to be deleted once read. You won’t find any of the emails I received that provided me with the party passwords. You won’t find any inter-group communications anywhere. All gone. The same with Box’s calls to me. I delete everything now, by habit.’

Jack nodded his understanding. ‘OK. So… These people here… These are the names you gave him…?’

‘Correct.’

‘Were there any others who are not here in these photos…?’

‘No. He stopped asking. I assume it was because you were getting too close…’

‘Did you know when he asked you for names, he was going to kill them…?’

‘At first, no. But after the second one was shot, it became obvious what he was doing. Like me… he hated pedophiles, but unlike me, he was taking the law into his own hands and killing them.’

‘Did you know he hired an assassin to do his dirty work…?’

‘He never initially discussed any details with me. I later raised it with him and he said he’d found a hit woman on the dark web, who was an ex-Russian special ops, to take care of things. That’s how he phrased it— “take care of things”. I didn’t want to know any more details.’

‘Phil Box…’ Jack said. He shook a disappointed head. ‘We had him and we let him go…’ He leaned on his elbows as he glared his frustration at Spence.

A melting pot of emotions washed over Jack; disappointment, mixed with a sense of failure and a small dash of relief.

‘You will no doubt recall that after each one of these five people were killed,’ Bowen began. ‘You received an anonymous email with a quote and a picture… Correct?’

Bowen’s words resonated deep with Jack. He frowned. None of those emails were made public. Jack’s eyebrows arched with realization. ‘That was you…?’

Bowen nodded. ‘It was…’

‘Why did you send me those coded emails…?’

‘Because even though these people were dead, they needed to be exposed for the scum they were. They weren’t innocent victims. I thought you would’ve exposed them. But you didn’t.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have hidden your messages in codes. Surely you would’ve realized by doing that you ran the risk of me not being able to decipher them…’

‘But you did… Didn’t you? That was one of the reasons why I coded them.’

‘What reason was that…?’

’Partly by habit. Because that is the way these people communicate. Everything is encrypted. Everything is secretive and untraceable. They relied heavily on the dark web and all the various protections afforded by re-routing through servers around the world. Add to that… every communication they send was also coded in case the message was intercepted, or fell into the wrong hands.

‘But more so, I needed reassurance you were the right man for the job…’

‘Again with the right man for the job, bullshit,’ Jack blurted to no one.

Bowen ignored Jack’s comments. ’I recalled around three, or so years ago, you had a case where you kept receiving complex coded messages and you were able to decipher those, so I thought mine were far easier.

‘I wanted these people exposed for who they were, so I coded them to provide you with the information I wanted you to have, but I did it under the veil of anonymity.’

‘Trouble was… your emails went into my email junk folder.’

‘That, I never accounted for. And yet you still found the emails and did what you had to do, to decipher them. I figured, when you realized each victim was connected through that group, you’d start to look for a shooter with a hatred of pedophiles. And sooner or later… if you were the right man for the job… You’d find Phil Box.’

‘But we didn’t find Box… Everything led us back to you.’

‘And I have now led you to Box…’

It was difficult for Jack to argue with Bowen’s logic, flawed though it may be. Bowen was correct. Irrespective of how they got here, he had identified Box as engaging the shooter. He now needed further evidence to support this.

‘It makes sense, now,’ Jack said. ‘We wondered how the person who sent me those emails had access to all those photos and videos. But now I understand. They were from your dossier collection?’ Jack said as a question. Bowen nodded his confirmation.

‘We’re going to step out for a moment. We won’t be long,’ Jack said.

Jack and Spence exited the interview room and entered the viewing room. Peter Unly was there monitoring the video recording. They stood at the two-way mirror looking back at Bowen.

‘Phil Box…’ Jack said. He rubbed a contemplative hand across his mouth. ‘We had him sitting in there all those weeks ago and we let him walk.’

‘We did Jobs… But we had nothing on him back then. We didn’t even have enough to get a search warrant,’ Spence reassured. ‘Even his Tinder date verified his story. We had to let him walk.’

Jack continued to rub a hand across his mouth as he glanced in at Bowen. Spence was right, but that didn’t make accepting it any easier.

He lifted his chin at Bowen. ’I believe him Spence. I don’t think he’s kiddy fiddler. Especially after hearing what happened to him as a child. And if he is able to produce this dossier of evidence, it should go a long way to verifying his story about infiltrating the group to gather incriminating evidence against it.

‘The question is… was he directly involved in the shootings because he shared a mutual hatred of pedophiles, or did Box blackmail him into it, as he claims?’

‘Hard to say. Box did try to kill Bowen,’ Spence said.

‘Loose ends, or because he was actually part of the group Box targeted…?’

‘Either is possible, at this stage…’

‘What do we do with him…?’ Jack said, thinking out aloud.

‘I think he’s entitled to apply for immunity, if we get Box. Without him, we’d still be sitting around scratching our heads. Now, as it stands, we’ve got an ID for our shooter and the principal offender who hired her…’

‘Problem is… We can’t make a request to the DA for immunity. It would risk alerting Box…’

‘Therein lies the conundrum,’ Spence said. ‘Only the DA’s office can provide immunity from prosecution.’

Jack jabbed a thumb at Bowen. ’Do we hold him, or cut him loose pending further inquiries…?His involvement is low level, at best,’ Jack said. ‘He provided the victim’s names to Box, while being blackmailed. He says he had no idea Box intended to kill them. Frankly… At this point in time… I’m inclined to believe him.’

Spence glanced in at Bowen. He allowed several beats to pass by before responding. ’I think we should cut him loose, pending further inquiries.We need to verify his story and we need to get Box so, if he agrees… maybe we can use Bowen as bait to draw them out.’

‘Agreed,’ Jack said. ‘OK…’ He unfolded his arms. ‘Let’s go tell him he can go, on the proviso he provides us his dossier… cooperates fully with our bait plan and says nothing about any of our discussions today…’

Chapter 40

Things had gone full circle for Jack. Around the time of the third murder, he’d scribbled Phil Box’s name at the top of his whiteboard, as a suspect.

Now, several weeks later, that same name was back there again. Only this time, there were no multiple questions marks after Box’s name. Jack was sure he had his man.

After releasing Bowen from the interview, Jack decided to wait and see if Box attempted any further hits on Bowen. They needed Nadya, and as she couldn’t leave the country, this was the only way they could think of, to flush her out.

With Bowen’s consent to act as bait, twenty-four—seven surveillance was established around Bowen, his practice and his apartment. If Nadya turned up, they’d get her.

Once they had Nadya, they’d pick up Box to complete the set. It was now about the wait.

Six days had passed since Jack interviewed Bowen. Box had not contacted Bowen and there’d been no sightings of Nadya.

Jack and Spence’s decision to work 6pm to 2am twilight shifts for the past six days, so they were available should anything arise, had so far backfired.

The time rolled into 8pm. The rest of Jack’s team called it for the night, several hours ago. Only Jack and Spence remained.

To break the monotony and for a change of scenery, they decided to drive across to their favorite coffee shop in Tribeca.

They had reached the bull pen exit door, on their way when Jack’s office phone rang. ‘Hang on… This could be something,’ Jack said. Spence waited at the external door while Jack jogged back to his office.

It wasn’t the call from the surveillance teams Jack hoped it would be. It was actually Ryan Bowen with some information. Jack called Spence back into his office to update him before they were on their way to a change of scenery and a coffee.

---

They weren’t the only ones seated in, but it wasn’t busy at their favorite little coffee shop. Their usual table by the window was somewhere to pass the time, waiting.

The effects of working six days straight had started to show on both men. Dark rings had formed under tired, bloodshot eyes. Spontaneous, uncontrollable yawns by each was common place.

After two coffees each and a pastry for Spence, Jack checked his watch. ‘What do you think my friend… Time to wander back?’

Spence checked his watch. ‘Yep. Why not. I’ll fall asleep if we stay here any longer.’

Both men stood from their chairs. Jack stretched his back. ‘I’ll get this…’ He said. He reached for some bills.

Spence grabbed Jack’s arm. ‘No… You got the last one. This is mine. I got it…’

‘OK. I’m not going to fight you for it.’ As Spence moved to the rear counter to settle the bill, Jack said, ‘I’ll see you at the car…’

Jack stepped out of the corner shop onto West Broadway. He checked his surrounds. Vehicle traffic and foot traffic were quiet.

With his hands buried deep into his overcoat pockets, Jack stepped around the corner into Murphy Street, enroute to where Spence parked their vehicle.

Street lighting was limited along the narrow side street and was further diminished by the towering gray scaffolding that dominated the sidewalk, and spread for the whole block.

As he wandered, Jack considered whether to call it for the night. They were both exhausted and the wait was draining.

He was almost at their vehicle when the sound of Spence’s distressed voice snapped him back to reality.

‘Job’s. Gun!’ Spence screamed. He used the one word that instantly grabbed every cop’s attention – Gun.

Jack quickly spun back to West Broadway, towards Spence’s voice. He did so in time to see Nadya, standing six to eight feet behind him, turn and fire a single shot at Spence, who stood only feet into Murphy Street.

The round struck Spence mid chest, while he reached for his firearm. Spence grunted. The round knocked him sideways against the building wall, before he fell heavily to the ground.

‘Spence…’ Jack screamed. He fumbled for his weapon through his overcoat, but he was too slow. Nadya had already turned back to him and had leveled her pistol at him.

Jack slowly released his hands and held them out to show he was not holding a weapon. ‘What do you want, Nadya…?’

‘You’re getting way too close. I’m sorry. But I have orders to kill you.’

Jack frowned. ‘Wait… Your accent… What happened to your accent?’

Nadia smirked. ‘You Americans and your movies. You think all Russians talk that way, so I simply perpetrated the stereo-type. Convincing, wasn’t it? Maybe I should have said, I khave orders to kill you…’ she said in her fake Russian accent.

‘No. You don’t have to—’

Nadya fired twice in quick succession. Gunshots reverberated around the narrow side street. Both rounds smacked into Jack’s chest.

The force of the impact pushed Jack back several steps. His knees gave way and he dropped to the ground like a felled tree. He grabbed his chest. The pain was intense. He gasped for air, but he couldn’t draw a full breath.

Jack watched Nadya move closer. Silhouetted by the street lights behind her, she stood over him, lifted her pistol and aimed. Jack knew this was the kill shot between the eyes coming. Her signature triple-tap. He couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes.

He hadn’t had time to think of his wife before the final shot rang out. The echo of gunfire bounced down the street, from building to building. Blood and brain matter splattered across Jack’s face from the final kill shot.

Jack’s eyes sprung open when Nadya’s lifeless body landed across him. He lifted his head in time to see Spence lying on his stomach— sniper style, with his firearm held between his two hands.

Not too many people could’ve hit such a small target in low light, from that distance, but Spence was a proficient marksman. He took out the former Russian Special Ops sniper with a single head shot.

Spence clambered to his feet and ran over to Jack, lying flat on his back. Jack’s face was covered in blood and small lumps of brain matter. ‘Are you OK…?’ Spence asked with concerned etched into his face. ‘Have you been hit…?’

He unceremoniously pushed Nadya aside and ripped open Jack’s winter coat, to check the damage. Two nine-mil slugs were firmly embedded deep into his bullet proof vest.

Jack coughed. He groaned. ‘Fuck it hurts, Spence. I think she broke my ribs.’

Spence exhaled heavily in obvious relief. He had no idea where his good friend had been shot and how bad his injuries were. ‘I think you’ll live.’ He opened his own coat to reveal a single nine-mill slug embedded into his bullet proof vest.

While Jack tried to get his breath, Spence checked on Nadya. The exit wound made a mess of her face. He checked her pockets and removed a cell phone.

Jack slowly dragged himself to his feet. He held one arm across his stomach, to support his injured ribs. He glanced down at Nadya’s prostrate body lying face down in a large pool of blood that escaped from her head wound.

He felt nothing but contempt for her. If not for Spence’s skills, it would’ve been him lying there. Trouble was, they needed Nadya, if they were to get Box. Now that door had firmly closed.

While Jack considered what could’ve been, Spence examined the cell. ‘There’s only one number stored in this phone, Jobs,’ he said.

‘That’ll be a burner… And if my suspicions are correct… she only needed one number, Spence,’ Jack said. His face lit up with realization. ‘We’re back in the game, Spence. We can use that. I’ve got an idea how we can expose Box, But first, let’s call this in.’

---

Phil Box had a look of stunned surprise when he answered the front door of his New Durham home to find Jack and Spence standing there staring back at him.

Fresh in appearance, they were not. After what they’d been through earlier tonight, Jack and Spence were drawn and they lacked their usual energy.

After they’d called in the shooting and the relevant responders had arrived and taken charge of the scene, and after they’d given their statement to internal affairs, but before they attended hospital to get their ribs checked, this next phase had to be done.

They couldn’t wait until morning and risk Box finding out on the morning news, about the police shooting of Nadya.

If what Jack had planned was to work, he relied on the element of surprise and it had to be tonight. The trap was set. All he needed now was for his catch to take the bait.

‘How did you know where I lived…?’ Box said. ‘Ah… Wait,’ he nodded his recollection. ‘The DA’s office Christmas party last year…’ He said, answering his own question. ‘That’s right. We had a BBQ here at mine and you were a guest of the office.’

‘Correct.’

‘So tell me… What is so urgent that it couldn’t wait until I’m in my office tomorrow morning?’

‘We have a situation where we require the DA’s permission to offer a suspect immunity from prosecution. He has vital information in relation to several Homicides…’ Jack began. ‘We need the green light tonight, while we’ve still got him.’

‘I see. Who is this witness…?’

‘He’s a psychiatrist from the Upper East Side…’

‘What’s his name?’

‘His name is Ryan Bowen.’ Box’s face noticeably tightened. ‘He says he has the name of the person behind our recent spate of shootings.’

Box checked the street. ‘Look. Come inside,’ he beckoned. ‘We can talk about it in here…’

Jack and Spence stepped inside. His fish had taken the bait. Now he just had to embed the hidden hook deeper and reel him in.

Box closed his front door and gestured towards his office, off to the right of the entry foyer. ‘Let’s talk in here…’

Jack and Spence entered Box’s den. Box followed and closed the door. He gestured to the sofa. ‘Please… Have a seat,’ he said while he moved to sit at his desk.

‘What is the extent of this person’s evidence?’ Box asked.

‘We haven’t gone into specific detail at this stage, but he has certainly provided enough for us to consider his request for immunity…’

‘If the DA’s office is going to consider an offer of immunity from prosecution, we firstly need to know what evidence he can provide and whether that evidence would assist in a achieving a successful prosecution.’

‘Understand…’ Jack nodded. ‘He has information about an assassin being hired to kill pedophiles in the city,’ Jack said. ‘A Russian female hit woman,’ Jack added to tease Box further. ‘And he reassures us he has information about the person who hired this assassin. So you’ll agree, we need him.’

Jack sat with his hands in his coat pocket. Nadya’s cell phone was in one of those pockets. On her cell, Jack earlier pre-prepared a text message to be sent to the only number in Nadya’s cell. If his suspicions were right, this would be Phil Box’s cell number.

All he had to do was press SEND and the recipient cell number would receive the following message, “I missed the cop you call Jack. He now knows he is next on your hit list. Be very careful”.

‘Did he give you any names of these suspects…?’ Box asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘No. He’s asked for the deal before he tells us anything further.’

By habit, as well as an occupational requirement, Jack was well aware an ADA had to be contactable – twenty-four—seven, so Box should have his cell on him.

Jack pressed SEND on the cell in his pocket.

‘I see,’ Box said. ‘Well… We will need to know names before we sign off on anything… You know… To make sure he’s legit.’

Fifteen seconds passed and Box had not received the text. Jack started to question his suspicions.

‘I believe he’s legit,’ Jack said. ‘What’s your thoughts, Spence?’Jack was stalling.

‘I agree. I’ve got no doubts he’s one hundred percent legit,’ Spence said.

Box held up a finger. ‘Excuse me,’ Box said. He removed his cell from his pocket and read the display. ‘I gotta take this.’ He read his display. His eyebrows dived deep into his face, before his stunned eyes sprung up to Jack sitting opposite.

The look of fear in Box’s eyes was the confirmation Jack needed. ‘Bad news…?’ Jack said. Box watched Jack as he pushed himself from his chair and moved around to Box’s side of the desk.

No. No. It’s all good. It’s nothing to worry about.’

As Box returned the cell to his pocket, Jack lunged at him like a striking cobra and grabbed hold of Box’s wrist. If he was to confirm his suspicions, Jack needed to view the cell before it self-locked. Jack wrenched the cell from Box’s grasp.

‘What do you think you’re doing…? Give me that.’ Box jumped to his feet. ‘That’s private.’

Jack firmly shoved Box back down into his chair. He examined the cell phone’s display. The text message he sent from Nadya’s cell phone was still on Box’s cell’s screen.

Jack showed Box the display. ‘What does this text mean…?’

‘I have no idea.’ Box waved the back of his hand at Jack. ‘I assumed it’s a wrong number.’ He held out his hand. ‘Can I have that back, please?’

‘I can reassure you… It was sent to the right number…’ Jack said.

‘I don’t understand,’ Box said.

Jack slipped Nadya’s cell from his pocket and showed Box the display with his message.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’

’This is the cell phone of your Russian hit woman who you sent to kill me tonight. Fortunately for us, she failed. Unfortunately for her… she never made it.’

‘That is absurd… You have no evidence to connect me to such a ridiculous accusation.’ His words were strong, but his delivery lacked conviction.

Is that right…?’ Jack said. ’You’re a learned man, Counselor… But let me spell it out for you, anyway. Firstly… Your number is the only number in this cell phone that belonged to your hit woman. Then there’s your reaction when you received that text. I wrote that “he now knows he is next on YOUR hit list.” YOUR hit list, Counsellor.

‘I asked you what the text meant and you said was it was the wrong number. If you weren’t involved, you would’ve questioned what the text meant, particularly the “your hit list” part. But you didn’t. Add to that, Ryan Bowen has given us sufficient evidence to put you away for the rest of your days. You are under arrest for murder, you piece of shit.’

Jack grabbed Box by the back of his neck and forced his head down on to his desk, while he applied the cuffs.

---

Captain Johnson sat at his desk when Jack knocked on the door and entered. Johnson gestured to the visitor chair at his desk. Jack took a seat.

‘How are your ribs…?’

‘Still a little tender.’

‘You were lucky you were wearing your vests…’

‘Had nothing to do with luck…’

‘How so?’

‘We were on our way out of the office when our witness, the shrink, rang to warn me Box had put me on his hit list…’

‘How did your witness know this…?’

’He said Box called him and said words to the effect that because he’d spoken to the police, the cops now had to go and the death of the cops was on him…

‘So when he told me this, I called Spence into my office and we put on our vests, just in case. Turns out the shrink’s call was timely, to say the least. He saved our lives.’

‘Thank God he called you when he did…’

‘With all due respect… I don’t think your God had anything to do with it,’ Jack said.

Jack was raised in a god-fearing, Christian family, but years of witnessing the brutality of what human beings could do to each other, caused him to question the existence of a superior being.

‘But I do think it had everything to do with Bowen’s timely decision making.’

‘Anyway…’ Johnson said. ‘I asked you up here because I wanted to commend you on the excellent work you did in solving this latest string of murders.’

Johnson read from a document in front of him. ’That’s six homicides, two attempted homicides of law enforcement officers and one attempted homicide of Mr. Bowen. There’s also charges of blackmail and perverting the course of justice.

‘We have an offender who previously held the office of Assistant District Attorney.’ Johnson removed his glasses and leaned on his elbows. ‘What was his reason for these killings?’

’Fed up with the court system failing to consider the victims. Fed up with offenders walking free and a deep-seated hatred for child abusers. Something snapped inside his head and he decided to take out the trash—his way.

’He found the Russian shooter on the dark web. She did hits to fund her college tuition. It turned out that she too had been interfered with, as a young girl, so she had a mutual hatred for the people she killed.

’We traced eleven $5,000 payments Box sent to an offshore bank account. We suspect the amounts were kept below the ten-kay limit to avoid being red flagged.

‘We have no doubt these were the hit woman’s $10,000 fee, paid in a half now, half upon completion, style of payment,’ Jack said. ’The timing of the payments showed the first five large was paid shortly before each hit, then the second payment of five Kay was paid shortly after each hit.

‘That left two $5000 payments. We believe one was the pre-payment for Bowen and the other was for my hit. Neither one was completed.’

Johnson referred to his file. ’Not only have you solved six murders, but you’ve helped the SVD expose a huge child pornography and pedophile ring that extended throughout the tri-state area.

‘There are several child murders linked to this group.’ He lifted a page from his file. ‘Have a look at the names on this list…’ He said. ‘There’s a US senator. A teacher. A judge. A scout leader. A soccer coach. There’s doctors, accountants, lawyers… there’s even a cop.’ Johnson shook his head.

‘I just realized something,’ Jack said. ‘That is the second time Spence has saved my ass…’

‘Second time…?’ Johnson frowned as his mind delved deep into its stored memory. ‘When was the other time…?’

‘About three years ago…’

‘Was that a shooting as well? I don’t recall that.’

‘No. It wasn’t a shooting, but it was equally as life changing.’ Jack waved a hand to deflect. ’Anyway. Jack stood from his chair. ‘I better get back.’

‘And the DA gave your witness immunity to prosecution over the murders and his attendance at the child abuse groups… Were you happy with that decision?’

Jack leaned his hands on the back of the chair. ‘I am. He was blackmailed to provide names for Box and while he was present at the child abuse parties, he never actively participated, while he gathered evidence to bring down these groups and solve, who knows, how many murders and missing person reports.’

‘I agree. I think that is the right outcome,’ Johnson said.

‘Have you informed the mayor of this outcome, as yet?’

‘As soon as I’m finished with you here, I’ll be calling him.’

‘Do you remember the mayor sat right there in that chair…’ Jack gestured to the chair, beside him. ‘And he questioned if I was the right man for the job…’

‘I do remember that…’

Jack moved to the office door. He turned back to Johnson, before opening the door. ’You make sure you let him know, in no uncertain terms. Jack Head is… the right man for the job.’

He wrenched open the door and marched out of the office. The gnome couldn’t see the smirk that filled the big man’s face.