Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,24
Archer. As he pushed the Answer button, he tapped the computer screen with his other hand.
‘We need to find out where he went.’
‘I can do better than that, sir,’ Rach said. ‘If he’s still in the city, I’ll find out where he is right now.’
As Shepherd turned, taking the call, Rach ran the tape back then froze the frame of the man talking with Cantrell. He had his back turned but the fabric and pattern of his coat was lit up perfectly by the street lamp.
She drew a box around the image, then tapped a few keys and hit Enter.
Bleeker had ditched the jacket in a trash can less than a minute earlier. Wearing a zip-up dark hoodie and jeans, a Yankees cap over his head, he was just about as anonymous and now cold as a man could be in New York City. He’d left Macy’s through the south entrance and was standing on the sidewalk on West 34 between 7 and Broadway, the building directly behind him. The temptation to stay and watch the effect of his work in the store was almost overwhelming, but he knew he needed to get the hell out of here. The winds were blowing strong today. No use watching the bomb go off if he got infected with the virus as well.
Particularly after seeing what it could do.
As Christmas shoppers and tourists moved past him either side, he shot his cuff and checked his watch.
He had thirteen minutes.
He stepped to the kerb, raised his hand and a passing taxi slowed to a stop. The driver lowered his window as Bleeker stepped forward.
‘Where to?’
‘Queens,’ Bleeker said, entering the cab and slamming the door shut. ‘Earn your tip.’
‘TB, sir,’ Archer said to Shepherd on his cell, standing in the lobby of the building. ‘That’s what she told us. Apparently her father was trying to create some kind of revolutionary cure for lung cancer but it went badly wrong.’
‘Tuberculosis?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s curable, right?’
‘Not this type. It’s been grown with a virus.’
‘Did she explain?’
‘Yeah. I just about kept up. Radiation in the virus knocked out some elements that made the TB medicinally safe. Basically if you breathe in this shit you cough so hard you rupture the blood vessels in your lungs. You spew out pieces of lung, break your own back from the spasms and drown in your blood within thirty seconds of inhalation.’
‘Jesus Christ. How on earth did this stuff get out of the lab?’
‘She doesn’t know. But when she and her father arrived at the lab this morning, five of the six samples of the virus were gone. Then they got a phone call from us.’
‘So that’s why he stepped off the roof. He knew.’
‘And that’s what killed the groundsman in the Park last night.’
‘Who else works at the lab?’
‘Only five people apparently. Peter Flood, his daughter, and three other doctors.’
‘Names?’
‘Kruger, Glover and Tibbs.’
‘I’ll tell Marquez and Jorgensen. We’ll locate and bring them in. In the-’
He suddenly paused, mid-sentence.
‘Hang on.’
Pause.
‘Wait a minute, Arch. Stay on the line. Rach just got something.’
Pause. Archer looked back at Josh, who was still with Maddy Flood, comforting her.
Shepherd came back. ‘Listen. Rach found the man who arranged for the package to be left in the Park last night on surveillance. She’s located him again this morning via his clothing.’
‘Where?’
‘He was in the subway station at 34th Street about twenty minutes ago. He got off a Downtown-bound R train. She’s speeding up the tape. Wait.’
Pause.
In the meantime, Archer caught Josh’s attention.
He beckoned his partner to come over quickly.
‘We’ve got him on the street, walking through Herald Square. He’s carrying a white plastic bag with something inside. It looks rectangular.’
‘Like a shoebox,’ Archer said. Then realisation dawned. ‘Oh shit.’
‘He went into Macy’s twelve minutes ago.’
Josh joined Archer, seeing the look on his face.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘I’m calling it in,’ Shepherd said. ‘Get down there now!’
ELEVEN
Located on 34 Street and taking up an entire city block between Broadway and 7 Avenue, Macy’s billed itself as The World’s Largest Store, a huge red banner draped down the side of the building claiming so in white letters. It wasn’t lying. The monolithic department store offered close to two million square feet of retail space. Hundreds of top-flight designers and clothing companies had concessions inside, from Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren to Armani, Versace and everyone else in between. The building had ten floors, a selection of coffee shops and restaurants, and thousands of customers passing through its three entrances every day of