Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,47

around the corner from the right, but across the street he saw two cops had pulled someone over. One of them was by the woman’s window, talking to her quietly, his partner returning from their squad car with her licence and registration.

The skinhead drew on the cigarette and watched them.

‘Hey. Pigs.’

They didn’t hear him.

‘Hey, piggy, piggies.’

They heard him this time. The officers turned simultaneously and saw him across the road by the bar.

He grinned, standing face on, willing them to take the bait.

The two cops looked at him for a moment. Then they passed the woman’s details back to her and started walking towards him. A red light had hit, so the street was clear. They moved across the road with the absolute confidence and authority that their badge and gun provided. Stepping onto the sidewalk, the two cops walked up to him, standing close.

‘You say something?’ one of them said.

The skinhead grinned, but didn’t reply. His two friends had sensed something was happening and were watching the exchange from their seats inside the bar.

‘I’m sure you just said something.’

The skinhead didn’t reply. He took a long draw on the cigarette instead.

‘It sounded like you just called us pigs.’

Turning to the man on his right, the skinhead suddenly blew the smoke in the cop’s face.

The police officer blinked, momentarily blinded.

Then the skinhead dropped the cigarette, swivelled and sucker-punched the other cop in the face.

TWENTY THREE

‘So what do you think?’ Shepherd asked, addressing Marquez, Archer and Josh. ‘You think Gunnar’s telling the truth?’

They were outside Briefing Room 5, standing beside the railing that looked out over the lower level and detective pit. Given that Rach was already occupied, two analysts across the building were pulling up full profiles on the four names Gunnar had given them. They’d already drawn one, the man Gunnar had said was missing, Ray Creek. He had an address in his name on 33 Street in Sunnyside, Queens. Shepherd had sent Jorgensen over there with two other detectives to check it out.

‘I think he is,’ Marquez said. ‘He doesn’t know what they were up to.’

‘Agreed,’ Josh said.

‘He could be lying,’ Shepherd said.

‘He seems too smart,’ Marquez said. ‘He wouldn’t be involved in this shit.’

‘We could get a polygraph in?’ Josh suggested

‘What do you think?’ Shepherd asked Archer. ‘You were in there with him.’

‘We got the four names from him but that’s all we’re going to get. We don’t have time to chase down blind alleys. He’s a dead end.’

There was a pause. The team looked at the detective pit down below and saw Dr Kruger sitting with Maddy Flood by Shepherd’s desk. Their chairs were pulled to the side and they were close enough for their knees to touch, talking in low voices. Kruger was holding her hand comfortingly. Maddy nodded at whatever he was saying, wiping away some fresh tears.

‘Let’s take a rain check,’ Shepherd said, thinking. ‘We need to start building a web here. We have two objectives. Number one is locate this last vial. And number two is find out how the hell Bleeker knew about this virus in the first place.’

He turned to Marquez.

‘Work with Rach up here. She’s trying to find out who took Hansen into that restroom and broke his neck. The moment you have something, I want to know.’

She nodded, stepping back into the briefing room and joining Rach by her computer terminal. Shepherd turned to Archer and Josh.

‘I want you two downstairs with the doctors. Find out everything they know. Take one aside each.’

‘What about Gunnar, sir?’ Josh asked.

Shepherd thought for a moment. ‘Let him go. You’re right. He’s not involved in this.’

Dr Glover was sitting in the lab at Kearny Medical when the lift doors opened again. He saw the terrifying man and woman who had kidnapped him unloading a series of canisters from the lift, dragging them across the polished tiles towards the lab. The man with the machine pistol rose from his chair and started speaking with them on the other side of the glass. The trio talked for a moment, the woman scraping the sides of her boots on the white floor, taking off some mud.

Earlier, Glover had been given exact orders as to what was required and why he was here. He’d been informed in graphic detail of the consequences if he failed and had spent the last hour both waiting for these canisters to arrive so he could get started and also praying that police officers would suddenly appear and save him.

But they