Читать книгу The Seventeen - Joel Arcanjo - Страница 10

Chapter 1

“You know who this guy is don’t you?” Chief Palmer asked.

“I’ve heard of him. Another money hungry suit, right?” Max Boyd replied.

“Not just any suit. This guy is powerful. He has connections or, rather, his father has. This is the kind of case that can make or break careers, Boyd. Yours and mine. You got that?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Make it quick and clean. In and out. We don’t want press waiting outside on this one. This guy is well liked in this city. We want to minimize the media backlash or at least postpone it.”

“Anything else?” Boyd asked.

“Yeah. Get your heavy gear on. Chances are there won’t be any problem, but these guys supply advanced weaponry to the military so who knows what they are capable of.”

“Seriously? You think they’ll have people waiting for us?” Boyd’s tone showed his slight apprehension, but not fear. Never fear.

“A 1% chance maybe that he’s heard that we are on to him and won’t go down without a fight. But 1% is enough when lives are at stake.”

Boyd nodded. He knew the Chief was right. Gearing up was a direct order, so he followed it.

****

Thirty minutes later they were in the back of an unmarked black NYPD van outside the location. There were five guys in his team. Boyd had been relaxed but now the adrenaline was coursing through his veins. This was a powerful family. If they were wrong it could end his career.

The others sat in silence, breathing hard and staring at their feet. Boyd was the only one with his head up, thinking and planning. He was the veteran. They looked to him as leader. This wasn’t a drug bust. It wasn’t some rickety shack out in the middle of nowhere. This was the centre of New York City in full view of everyone. Not an ideal scenario.

“OK. Everyone know their roles?” Boyd finally said after another few seconds of nervous silence passed.

Everyone answered but no-one spoke. They just nodded. He could tell that each man was going through his own tried and tested routine. They were psyching themselves up. He hadn’t told them that it was just a 1% chance that they would meet armed resistance. Better for them to think that it was a high probability. That way they would be hyper-vigilant and fully prepared. They would thank him later.

“Let’s go. You two up front. You two with me.”

The moment they exited the van every eye in the street fell on them. But that didn’t disturb Boyd. He was used to it. He actually looked less intimidating with the gear on. He would’ve made a useless spy. Far too big.

They sprang out of the van and ate up the twenty yards of sidewalk between the vehicle and the entrance in a flash.

As they approached the huge glass doors automatically swung open and they entered running. Inside was a giant lobby, huge marble pillars marking the pathway. On the far side was Security and past that, the elevator they needed. It was clear that Security had not been briefed about their visit. There were just two men at the desk. Both jumped to their feet and threw their hands in the air the moment they saw Boyd and his armed colleagues coming at them.

“Let us through. Now!” Boyd barked.

The nearest guy swiped his card and quickly shuffled out of their way. Some security, Boyd thought.

“You, stay here with them. Make sure they don’t get brave,” he said, pointing to one of his men. He dropped back. Now there were four.

They reached the elevator and piled in, breathing hard. Not because they had run far or fast, but when you are faced with a potentially dangerous situation, sometimes you forget to breathe. All four of them fit, barely. They were squashed together and, to make matters worse, the elevator music started. Repetitive droning of a guy that had never quite hit the heights he had hoped for, but was elevator famous. Seventeen floors to go and no-one said a word the whole ride. It was probably best that way.

The gentle ping of the elevator reaching their stop kicked them into high gear again. They flew out the elevator and turned the corner. What they found wasn’t a wall of armed security waiting for them. It was a man, sitting at his desk, tapping away on his computer.

This was why they were here. He was their murder suspect.