Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,16

getting that feeling.’

‘We need her to fill in the blanks and find out why he took a dive.’

‘Yes, sir. Anything from Marquez?’

‘Yes. CSU found a set of fingerprints on the box from Central Park. They belong to a man called Rashad Cantrell. He’s a low-level street dealer based up in Harlem. They're headed over to get him now.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Keep me posted. And get that girl talking.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The call ended. Archer tucked the phone back into his pocket. Then he headed over to join Josh and Maddy Flood in the corner of the lobby.

At the Counter Terrorism Bureau, Shepherd put his cell phone back on the table, then examined the computer screen mounted on the wall of the briefing room. Beside him, Rach was tapping the keys, searching through every database she could access.

‘Still nothing?

‘Not on our system. I think plain old Google could be our friend on this one,’ she said, pulling up the website homepage and typing in Flood’s name.

The search immediately brought up a number of hits. She clicked on several, lining them up on the screen. Shepherd saw they were newspaper articles and not just from periodicals. The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Sunday Times. Every headline was interesting.

But one of them was particularly pertinent. It came from a UK paper called The Guardian.

American doctor thinks a cure for lung cancer is just around the corner.

‘Hold up,’ Rach said, centring the article on the screen. ‘This could be something.’

As the two of them studied the screen, there was a knock on the door behind them. Shepherd turned and saw the head of the Bureau, Lieutenant General James Franklin, standing in the doorway. Franklin was a commanding presence, a thirty year veteran, as tough as redwood with a thick grey moustache and a leathered face, the result of many years of active service for the Department. He was well-known as having been a real bruiser back in the day. He was a guy who didn’t answer to anyone in the building, but he never stood on ceremony with anyone and was a good boss to have, especially considering the daunting responsibilities he carried. He also shared a striking resemblance to the actor Sam Elliott. A lot of detectives referred to him as Wade, the name of Elliot’s character in the cult movie Road House. They never did it to his face, though.

‘Morning, sir,’ Shepherd said.

‘Morning, Shep,’ Franklin said. ‘Can I have a word?’

Shepherd nodded. ‘Of course.’ He turned to Rach. ‘Keep searching.’

He followed his boss outside, joining him by the railing on the walkway. Down below, the desk area for the field teams was busy, detectives milling everywhere.

Facing him, Franklin patted Shepherd on the shoulder.

‘How you doing?’

Shepherd nodded, trying to force a smile. ‘OK, sir. Bit of a tough morning.’

‘How’s Beth?’

Shepherd looked away.

All attempts at a smile faded.

‘I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in a while.’

‘When was the funeral?’

‘Last week.’

Franklin nodded. ‘How’s this virus situation?’

‘We’re working on it.’

‘Good. I know it’s your day off, but you’re the man I want in charge. That’s why I called you in.’ Shepherd looked back at Franklin who held his gaze. ‘And all bullshit aside, if you want to talk to me, you know where I am.’

‘Thank you, sir. I need to get back to work.’

Franklin nodded. Shepherd turned and headed back into the briefing room to re-join Rach.

Franklin remained where he was, watching him walk away.

In New Jersey, another car swung into the parking lot at The Kearny Medical Institute where Dr Bale and his team had worked. There were four people inside the vehicle, two men and two women. They weren’t a group, however.

Two of them were Wicks and Drexler.

Wicks was behind the wheel. He stopped outside the doors of the three-storey building and pulled on the handbrake. In the back seat, Drexler was sitting on the right, her silenced Glock in her hand, the barrel of the silencer buried in the armpit of the other woman who was sitting beside her. She was shaking with fear.

Drexler pushed open her door, stepped out, then reached back inside and grabbed the woman by her hair. She dragged her out, shoving the silenced pistol into her back while keeping a firm grip on her hair. Wicks hauled the last member of the group, a man, out from the other side and with his pistol jabbed into the guy’s spine, they marched the man and woman into the building.

As they were pushed through the entrance and into the lobby, the two