The October List Read online

  As if irritated at the interruption, she said curtly, "He's very good. And I pay him a lot of money to be good."

  The captain asked, "What're Reardon and his crew into?"

  "It's serious shit, Paul. Mostly cleaning money, some drugs, some guns. Offshore stuff. But the worst is he's hit at least a half-dozen people. A couple witnesses and some rivals. And one of the witnesses? Apparently the guy's family was with him. Killed them too."

  "Oh, man," Surani said, shaking his head. He and Kepler were exploring adopting.

  "Multimillion operation and hits," the captain mused. He did not sound at all dismayed. Good press material, he'd be thinking. This was cynical but Kepler knew you had to consider image in this business. White Knight shit mattered at budget time, it mattered at promotion time. This was a game everybody learned and nobody felt guilty about playing.

  "What do you have in mind for the set?" Barkley asked.

  "It's going to be tricky. Reardon's smart. And suspicious as hell, according to my CI. I need to set up a fake office somewhere in Manhattan."

  "Office? What does that mean?" Barkley asked bluntly.

  Her voice matched his: "A company. A business, an office. Probably an investment firm. I don't need much. A couple of rooms, furniture. Some phony files I'll gin up myself. Decorations, props. The office'll be deserted--and half empty, like it was raided. That's part of my plan."

  "We're not Abscam, we don't have a lot of money."

  "What's Abscam?" Surani asked.

  No one answered. Kepler reminded himself to explain to his partner that it was one of the biggest stings in U.S. history.

  Gabby said, "Won't cost us much. I was thinking we could use that place Narcotics closed up last month. It's just sitting empty. Midtown. Turtle Bay. Oh, and I'll need an unoccupied town house somewhere on the Upper East Side. Just for the exterior. The whole thing'll probably come in under a couple G's."

  Barkley grumbled, "That's probably do-able."

  "I'll have IT put together a fake website for the company. I'll make it look like it was just raided. And I'll do a Facebook page for my cover identity. Simple stuff. But good enough to fool Reardon if he checks. Which he will."

  Barkley grunted once more. "Hold up. You gotta convince me, Detective. Tell me more about Reardon."

  "Don't have a lot. I've datamined him. He's rich, lives fast. Owns a Maserati, but it's slower than his Porsche. He's got a fancy boat in Connecticut and another one in lower Manhattan."

  "Well, well," said Surani. "We're going after a whole new class of perps. Moving up in the world."

  "Or down," Gabby corrected, frost in her voice. "He kills families, remember?"

  At least Kepler wasn't the only one she tapped with her whip.

  "Reardon's single. Never married, though my CI tells me he sometimes claims he's divorced and sometimes he's a widower. He's got a loft in TriBeCa worth three million and a company on Wall Street. It's legit--he's involved in venture capital work. The Norwalk Fund. But he only made one point two million last year, according to his taxes. His lifestyle's five times that. So the investing's a cover for the money washing, arms sales and other things he does."

  "Maybe he just lies to the IRS about how much his legit company makes," Kepler suggested.

  "Not about his cover business. Why would he do that? Who'd do that? It's suicide. He's not stupid, Brad."

  Ouch.

  Surani asked, "And the partners? Andrew and Sam? They're connected to The Norwalk Fund?"

  "I checked out the company, of course, trying to find their full names. And, no, they're not."

  Of course...

  "So whatta you want to have happen out of this?" Barkley asked. He was known for his love of the big picture.

  "I'll get close to Reardon, then lay out some bait, give him and Andrew and Sam the chance to hook up with my informant in something big. I'll be an innocent, so they'll have to take me out."

  "Nail them on criminal conspiracy," Barkley said.

  "Exactly. My CI, his name's Joseph, will be wired. As soon as they meet with him and mention the kill word, we can move in. And get warrants for their offices and houses. If we're lucky we can find something linking him to the earlier hits--weapons, records, cash transfers."

  "Seems like you've thought this through--like you always do, Detective. Tell me how you want to run it."

  She explained, "My cover for the set will be Gabriela McKenzie, manager for the phony business I mentioned. I'm calling it Prescott Investments. It'll look like my boss--Charles Prescott--has been doing some kind of illegal stock trades. And you two have been investigating him for that. It's time for the bust, but he's disappeared. You come up to Reardon and me on the street. You break the news about Prescott. That'll get Reardon's attention. Then, after you leave, my Joseph comes up too. He'll tell me that he was doing some illegal deals with Prescott and he's pissed he skipped town. He'll ask me to hand over this mysterious list that's worth millions."

  Barkley asked. "What's in the list?"

  A good question, Kepler reflected.

  "Doesn't matter," she said dismissingly.

  Or maybe not.

  "It's a MacGuffin," Gabby continued. "Could be anything. But I've decided to make it seem to Reardon like it's a list of underworld kingpins involved in a plot to take down the stock exchange for a day or two and clean up in a big way. I'll drop some clues for him to figure out. Like, one of Prescott's clients is a German terrorist and arms dealer. I'm calling him Gunther. The others are brokers or traders, mostly overseas. And I'm working on a lease that has to be signed up in the next few weeks--for that property on Bankers' Square in Manhattan, where the stock exchange is putting in a new communications system. Reardon may figure it out from that, but to be on the safe side I'm going to hide this memo in some files that I give him to examine, like I didn't know it was there."

  She slapped another document on the table.

  From: Charles Prescott

  To: Investment Syndicate

  Re: Updated Timetable

  2nd of the month: New York Stock Exchange Technology Center on Bankers' Square in lower Manhattan opens.

  4th of the month: The lease for warehouse at 7 Bankers' Square is effective. Our "engineers" arrive, with appropriate equipment to disable Technology Center's fiber-optic system, directly below warehouse.

  6th of the month: U.S.-based investors exit jurisdiction to safe havens. Recommended: Switzerland, Cayman, St. Kitts, St. Thomas.

  8th of the month, 11 a.m.: The event occurs at warehouse. NYSE suspends trading.

  8th-9th: Completion of short sales transactions made throughout the year, distribution of profits to investors.

  "The target date's around Columbus Day, so I'm calling it the October List--the people in the syndicate Prescott put together."

  "Love it," Kepler said. He was truly impressed. If he played for the other team, he could easily fall in love with Gabriela.

  She continued, "Joseph's also going to demand back the deposit he paid Prescott. Four hundred thousand dollars, something like that."

  "Whoa, hold on--I can't come up with buy money like that," the captain said quickly.

  "No. I won't need actual cash. It's enough for Reardon to know the stakes are high. If the deposit's four hundred K, then the operation's dealing with serious cash. It'll seal the deal."

  Barkley asked, "Why use your CI for the part? Why not an undercover detective?"

  "Credibility. If Reardon checks around, he'll find Joseph's connected with the Seduttos. But, like I said, I will need at least a couple other officers, in addition to Brad and Naresh. I want Elena Rodriguez from Narcotics."

  "I'll try to swing it," Barkley said.

  Gabby said firmly, "Make it work out. I need her. She's good."

  "What's her role in the set?" Barkley asked.

  "She'll be a fellow employee of mine at Prescott."

  Surani: "You said threaten you. How's Joseph going to pressure you into giving him the l
ist?"

  "He'll kidnap my daughter."

  Kepler blinked at this, surprised. She has a daughter? Gabby was the least maternal person he could think of.

  She continued, "Reardon'll stay close to me while I run around town trying to find the October List and the four hundred K. I'm sure he'll call in Andrew and Sam--they'll pretend they're helping me get my girl back. But what they'll really do is cut a deal with Joseph to sell him the list or go into business with him."

  "What if Reardon doesn't bite?" Kepler asked.

  "Then you've wasted a day or two when you could be playing golf."

  "He doesn't play golf," Surani said. "He watches golf."

  Kepler gave him the finger. Subtly. And an affectionate glance.

  "And I'm out two grand for the set," Barkley grumbled.

  She looked at him as if he were a husband making an extremely petty remark about starch in his shirts.

  Only Gabby McNamara, of the thirty thousand cops in the NYPD, could nail brass with a look like that.

  "So, Paul, can we go forward?"

  Or use their first names.

  He debated a moment. "You got three days tops. We roll it up on Monday, whatever you find, or don't find."

  "Deal. Thanks." Her gratitude extinguished fast. "Now, a lot of the work's going to be convincing Reardon this's legitimate." As if she were mentioning she had to drop her laundry off, Gabby said, "I need to shoot a cop."

  Did she glance my way when she said that? Kepler wondered.

  Barkley said firmly, "No weapons discharges on the set. Can't happen."

  "I need to," she said, and the words were all the more forceful because she was so blase. "If Reardon has any doubts, that'll put them to rest. We'll rig a gun with blanks or training rounds." She steamrolled ahead. "We'll get some youngster from Patrol. He'll be jazzed."

  Kepler said, "No."

  Everyone turned to him, Gabby most piercingly. He said, "You can't have Reardon next to you. The patrolman or witnesses would see him and he'd become a suspect. He'd go to ground or back off."

  "Good point. I hadn't thought of that. I'll make sure he's at a distance."

  Barkley pointed out, "The press, the public, everybody'll go ape shit, a cop gets shot. Suddenly it's front-page New York Post. People're going to ask questions about him."

  She said, "It'll happen on a deserted street. Minimize witnesses. We'll use a fake name. I've checked and there's nobody on the force named Fred Stanford Chapman. My date to the high school prom. We'll get a fake name tag and have a phony press release ready. Tell the head of the patrolmen's union it's part of a set."

  She fixed Captain Barkley with a sniper rifle gaze. And she kept mum. He said reluctantly, "I guess it'll work."

  "I've got the whole set orchestrated." Gabby dug through her purse. Kepler noticed a roll of yarn, blue and green. He remembered she relaxed by knitting. It seemed strange at first but he wasted time on Angry Birds and Sudoku and, yes, watching golf. She extracted a single sheet of paper and put it on the table in front of them. "This's the script, day by day, starting this afternoon. Memorize it now. It gets shredded before I leave. There'll be variations and improvisations but I'll text you as plans change."

  The three men eased forward and read.

  UNDERCOVER OPERATION 2340-42 (CODE NAME: "CHARLES PRESCOTT OP")

  Friday

  --Det. McNamara, AKA Gabriela McKenzie, makes contact with Subject Daniel Reardon.

  Saturday

  --Dets. Kepler and Surani contact Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon re: Charles Prescott fleeing city.

  --Confidential Informant Joseph contacts Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon about kidnapping of daughter (Sarah), extorting Det. McNamara to provide "October List" and $.

  --McNamara and Reardon attempt to find October List and $.

  --With assistance of Det. Elena Rodriguez, Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon obtain access to Manhattan set location, "Prescott Investments." Locate October List.

  --At said location, Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon are confronted by Dets. Kepler and Surani but manage to smuggle October List out of Prescott Investments. Adds to credibility of its importance. Clues given to Subject Reardon about possible financial scam.

  --Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon remain undercover, attempting to find $, while appearing to negotiate with C.I. Joseph, as the "kidnapper."

  Sunday

  --Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon attempt to find money at townhouse of Charles Prescott's lover, Upper East Side. Intercepted by Dets. Kepler and Surani and Patrol Officer using fictional name Fred Stanford Chapman. Stage shooting of Chapman. Det. McNamara and Subject Reardon flee. Det. McNamara feigns injury in escape.

  --If he hasn't done so already, Subject Reardon will probably contact partners, Andrew and Sam, under guise of helping Det. McNamara secure release of daughter.

  --Subject Reardon and either/or Andrew and Sam meet with CI Joseph, with intent to engage in conspiracy to defraud and murder Detective McNamara. CI or site of meeting will be wired. CI will relay location information to Det. McNamara.

  --Tactical takedown of Reardon, Andrew and Sam by Emergency Service.

  Barkley was obviously impressed, though he tried not to show it. "Man. It is a script."

  She said matter-of-factly, "With people like Reardon, you don't improvise."

  He kills families...

  Kepler asked, "You're sure Reardon'll run with you?"

  "He'll come along. I'll make sure of it."

  "How're you going to snag him?"

  "Every Friday afternoon he swims at Battery Park Health Club--"

  "Or plays racquetball or tennis," Kepler pointed out fast.

  She swiveled toward him. "The only reason to join that particular club is for tennis or the pool. My datamining shows he's never paid for court time or bought balls. Ergo, he swims."

  I stand corrected. And she speaks Greek. Or was it Latin? What a woman. The other team was looking more and more interesting.

  "After that he goes to Limoncello's for drinks."

  "What's Limoncello's?"

  "Restaurant on the harbor." Gabby was getting pretty proficient at talking to Kepler while not looking at him. She continued to Barkley, "He generally has scotch or red wine. I'll have some small bottles of each with me. I'll see what he's drinking and go to the ladies' room, spill some on my sleeve. Make him think he's stained my blouse. I'll take it from there."

  On reflection, Kepler was thinking, Gabby might not be the best woman in the world to date.

  "What do you mean that you 'feign injury'?" Surani asked, tapping the script.

  "I'll have to seem vulnerable. To make Reardon believe I'm no threat. I'll probably fall then bite the inside of my cheek--to make it look like I'm bleeding from a broken rib and ruptured lung. Also, it seems Reardon's a bit of a sadist. My being in pain'll be a turn-on."

  "You'd be armed?" Surani asked.

  "How can I be? I'm an office manager of an investment company." A glance at the script she'd written.

  "A wire then," Kepler offered.

  Gabby said, "No." Frowning as if infinitely perplexed he didn't get it.

  Surani said, "We've got some good gadgets from the tech department, Gabriela, surveillance gear, I mean. We've got a GPS and mike in a cigarette lighter--"

  "You'd give me a cigarette lighter when I don't smoke? What's Reardon going to do with that?"

  "I'm just saying. Something."

  "No. No wires. And no third-party surveillance either. You two and everybody... keep your distance. I can't take any chances that Reardon'll tip to the set. That's the biggest danger. He hasn't survived this long by being careless. Now read the script until you've got it memorized."

  She pushed the page forward and, like students in front of a stern teacher, Surani and Kepler did as she instructed. When they'd nodded, Gabby swept everything up and walked to a shredder. She plugged the unit in and made confetti. Then she slung her purse over her shoulder. She said
to the detectives, "I'll email you more details tonight. Intercept us on the corner near my apartment around ten or eleven."

  Surani recited, " 'Detectives Kepler and Surani contact Detective McNamara and Subject Reardon re: Charles Prescott fleeing city.' "

  Her first and only smile. "Good."

  Kepler said, "One thing?"

  Gabby regarded him seriously. "Yes?"

  "Your CI, this Joseph. You trust him?"

  "Pretty much I do."

  "Pretty much," Kepler echoed. "Okay, Joseph's boss? Sedutto? He's trouble; you know that. Is there any chance Joseph's running you? I mean, maybe he's thinking that Reardon's a source for some big money. And he'll take you out too when he gets what he needs."

  The best confidential informants were morally always just an inch away from the perps they were embedded with.

  Would Gabby be pissed off that he'd questioned her judgment in trusting this Joseph?

  But she said only, "I appreciate that, Brad. But I've assessed the risk and it's acceptable. Not much we can do about that."

  Then she was gone.

  "Well, that's one hell of a gal," Barkley said.

  A noun that neither Kepler nor his partner wanted to go anywhere near.

  The captain then said, "I want eyes and ears on her."

  "But," Surani pointed out, "she said no surveillance."

  "I don't care what she said. I want to know everything she says and where she goes and who she sees. Twenty-four seven. This's too dangerous to leave her spinning in the wind. Get on that now."

  CHAPTER 1

  8:20 A.M., FRIDAY

  2 HOURS, 40 MINUTES EARLIER

  I'M GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT I NEED. I need someone dead. Someone who's bad and who's been troublesome and has caused me and other people a great deal of pain. It's a simple goal--a killing--but there are complications. A lot of complications."

  Peter Karpankov paused, as if these words were too dramatic. Or perhaps not dramatic enough, ineffectual in conveying the magnitude of the sins he wanted justice for. Today his weathered skin was more wan than normal and he seemed sixty years of age, not his actual fifty. The man's bullet-shaped head, dusted with short, thinning hair, was looking out the window of Karpankov Transportation, Inc., a medium-sized company, which he had run for years, inherited from his father. The building, unimpressive and scuffed, squatted in Midtown, near the Hudson River. He had enough money to build a large, modern facility, but he kept the company's original building. The same way he lived in the same two-thousand-square-foot red-brick detached house in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, that had been in his family for nearly a hundred years.