Chapter Eighteen #2
She swiped it open, added a code on a pad, swiped again.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, thanks. You did fine.”
Her eyes lit up with relief as the doors slid shut.
“She’s really new,” Peabody said.
“Brand and spanking. I figure the guards are outside because he doesn’t want them in there, but if they are? Record on.” Eve took out her badge, drew her weapon.
Peabody did the same.
“This is a really nice building, and you know what else?”
“If you’re about to say: ‘If Nadine’s in the building, someone on staff who knows she’s good at greasing palms would get word to her that we’re here,’ yeah, I know what else.”
“Add we came in hot.”
“Yeah, add that. Get ready.”
Eve shook her shoulders to loosen them, then as the doors opened, went in hot.
She swept left, right.
“Check the security screen by the door.”
Peabody stepped back. “Two men flanking, and looking bored.”
Eve nodded. “Jacob Wyst, this is the police. We have a warrant for your arrest. Come out with your hands up.”
She heard nothing but silence.
“We clear down here first, and watch your six. If he doesn’t have a weapon, he’s stupid.”
She’d barely taken two steps more when she smelled death. She didn’t bother to curse when she saw the open doors, one hanging crooked, to where death lay.
“Not fast enough, not hot enough.”
“Jesus! How the hell did he get in here?”
“We clear first. He could still be here.”
The penthouse sprawled, three bedrooms, three and a half baths, a dining area, kitchen, a butler’s pantry, where a deactivated droid, built young, attractive, female, like the desk clerk, stood.
They cleared it all, including closets, the terrace.
Then Eve went to the front doors, opened them.
The men instinctively came to attention, then seeing her instead of Wyst, reached for weapons.
She held up her badge. “Police, draw those and you’re down, then in a cage. Your client’s lying dead in a pool of blood in his office.”
“Bullshit.” The one on the right snarled it. “We haven’t moved from this spot for ninety minutes. There’s a Do Not Disturb on the suite, and that blocks the elevator.”
The one on the left looked as though he debated whether he could draw before she stunned him. “So how the hell did you get in there?”
“Warrant. Wyst is dead. Both of you, surrender your weapons. Surrender your weapons,” she repeated when they hesitated. “If you’re duly licensed to carry, they’ll be returned to you.”
They didn’t like it, but handed over two low-charge licensed security stunners.
“If you’re carrying more weapons, and don’t turn them over, you’ll lose the license to carry these, and therefore your occupation.”
There were muttered curses now, but one handed over a knife, the other a foldable slap stick.
“Inside. Over there, sit. Peabody, take these down, evidence bag, bring up the field kits. Call it in while I talk to these gentlemen.”
Keeping her weapon out, she stood in front of them.
“So, let’s start with IDs, licenses.” When they took them out, she got them on record. “How long have you worked for Wyst?”
“We’re on call when he needs personal security. Two days this round.”
“Look, nobody got past us unless they were fucking invisible and could walk through doors. The elevator should’ve been blocked.”
“It was blocked. The desk unblocked it for us. Warrant,” she repeated. “Did you come inside with Wyst when he arrived?”
“SOP. We came in, cleared the suite. And nobody was in it. There’s a droid.”
“Currently deactivated,” Eve said. “What was Wyst’s state of mind?”
They looked at each other, shrugged. The one on the right answered.
“Nervous, so it showed. The man doesn’t sweat that I’ve ever seen, but you could smell the nerves.”
“He was carrying, too.” The other spoke up. “I can’t say if he’s licensed, but I know when someone’s carrying, and he was. First time when I’ve been on duty with him.”
“A couple of his employees got their brains bashed in, so nervous and carrying. He was taking a flight out tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. We left his office and made a quick stop at the bank.
Safe-deposit box. We stayed outside the room, so can’t say what he got out.
Then straight here. We’ve been on the door since we cleared the suite.
Orders were no entry. He had replacements coming at nineteen hundred, but until they clocked in, we stayed on the door. ”
She nodded as Peabody came in.
“All right, you’re free to go.”
“Weapons?”
“You can pick them up at Central tomorrow.”
“Come on.”
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I can have you taken in for more questioning, or you can walk out, come in tomorrow.”
They decided to walk out.
“Uniforms coming, morgue and sweepers.”
“Seal up. Let’s take the body.”
Jacob Wyst lay broken and faceup on the blood-soaked rug spread in front of the desk. As with the others, the room was in shambles with blood-spattered walls, furnishings. Shards of glass sparkled in the bloody pools.
“Bag that weapon by the window, Peabody. The bodyguards said Wyst was carrying. It didn’t help him any more than Cruz’s helped him.”
“The window’s got some cracks, and blood smears.”
“Hurled him there,” Eve concluded, then crouched by the body, opened her kit. “Right thumb’s pulled out of joint, but I can get a print. Victim is officially ID’d as Jacob Wyst, whose company owns this suite. NYPSD has a warrant for the arrest of the victim.”
“If he’d come to us, he’d be in a cage, but he’d be breathing.”
“He thought he could ride it out. Get clear of Redman, ride out the rest. He’d been wallowing in his money, control, power too long to give it up. Victim has multiple facial injuries.”
“I’m bagging some teeth,” Peabody told her.
“Missing teeth, broken nose. Beyond broken, it’s pulp. Shattered cheekbones, left and right, broken and dislocated jaw. Left arm broken at the elbow, elbow appears shattered. Broken shoulder, ribs, hip is misaligned. Both legs appear broken. Left foot is at a ninety-degree angle.
“Did he think he’d never face the consequences of what he’d done?” she wondered as she took out her gauges. “Did he sleep like a goddamn baby after he ordered the murder of all the people in that apartment building to cover his hit on Redman?”
“I think he did, to both,” Peabody said. “Some people have no, well, soul. What he did, what he would’ve done? He was a monster, Dallas. A monster in a twenty-thousand-dollar suit.”
“Yeah, and look at the suit now.” Reading time of death, she cursed. “Goddamn it. Goddamn it, he wasn’t dead more than ten minutes before we walked in here. Ten minutes.
“Christ, see if Whitney has Banner in custody. If he went there first, he’s gone, too.
“How did he get in? How the hell did he get in?”
She got up, walked out, and though she’d already checked them, checked the terrace doors again. Secured.
She opened them not only because she wanted air, but to consider.
“He didn’t climb up fifty-odd floors on the outside of the damn building. A long, scary leap or swing from that other terrace, but that would involve getting in the building first.”
She paced, went back in.
“He knew Wyst was here because he’s monitoring Wyst’s ’link. And he already knew the building because he plans, he studies, he tests. Elevator blocked. Maybe he managed to access it before? Maybe. Lying in wait?”
She shook her head because it didn’t feel right. The guards cleared the suite. And the victim had a drink—broken glass by the desk.
Still, she went back to the elevator, opened the doors, blocked them open, then went inside.
Then looked up.
“Son of a bitch!”
She left the doors blocked open, called Peabody.
“This is the way.”
“How would he do it? First, he’d have to get in the building.”
“Mezzanine.”
“Yeah, okay, but then he’d have to get up there. Okay maybe, maybe, he got a staff or resident swipe.”
“If he had it more than a few hours, they’d report it, and they’d deactivate it.
The timing’s too narrow. Wyst just canceled the incoming and blocked the suite for himself this afternoon.
Probably close to three. Redman couldn’t have anticipated that, so he’d have to get a swipe between that time and when he got in and beat Wyst to death. It doesn’t work.”
“Even if he did get a swipe, how does he get up there?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. I’m going down, check the security feed, order a building search—inside shafts and air vents.”
“Uniforms should be here any minute.”
“Have them check staff areas, public areas, find out if anyone saw him. If anyone’s missing a swipe, a uniform.”
“Got it. Whitney has Banner in custody. He’s lawyered up. Reo says they’re pushing for no bail. Flight risk, mass murderer. She says he won’t get bail.”
“Good. I really want to talk to that bastard.”
Peabody glanced back at the buzz at the door, then at the security cam. “Uniforms.”
“Get them going.”
She unblocked the door, got in, ordered the security level.
As she started down, she worked out how it made the most sense.
Then he dropped down out of the grid, and was on her.