Page 56 of No Safe Place

“We are sure this woman is in there?” Tejada said.

“We’re sure.”

That wasn’t completely true, but Shaw was done playing games. It was his call.

“Wouldn’t it be better to induce a ruse?” said Carpenter.

He had stabbed the desk with his knife and was cleaning his glasses now.

He was talking about smoking them out, Shaw knew. He wished. If it were up to him, he’d set the whole back of the structure aflame and watch them flee out the front like rats from a burning ship. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Not in this case,” Shaw said almost ruefully. “The risk to the subject is too great.”

“When do we go?” asked Shahu, who was the shyer of his two Afghani kill dogs.

“Why, Shahu? You have a hot date or something?” Shaw said.

That made them laugh, loosened them up. Of course, it did. Shaw was a master at this. Some men were born to lead.

“Is this like déjà vu or what?” said Carpenter. “Am I the only one who thinks this feels just like an op back in Afghanistan?”

“Yeah,” said Tejada, “except this staging area smells like stamp glue and farts instead of goat shit. I don’t know which is worse.”

Shaw checked his watch.

“We go in twenty, gentlemen,” Shaw said, standing. “So, get your rear in gear.”

50

“Scotty, can I have a Corona please,” I said as I arrived at the bar.

“Where you been, cop?” Mario asked from where he stood three stools down on my left.

His eyes were glassy. I looked at the three beer bottles in front of him, the two shot glasses.

I looked over at Scotty behind the bar. He shook his head.

“I said where you been?” he said.

“Taking a leak,” I said cheerily as Scotty gave me my beer.

“‘Taking a leak,’ he says,” Mario said, sneering at me.

He took another swallow of beer.

“That’s typical. Never a cop around when you need one.”

I knew this guy was scared. That he was looking for someone to feel superior to so his sad and scary feelings of helplessness would go away. But unfortunately for him, I didn’t give a shit about his feelings.

I smiled at him as I stepped over until we were almost nose to nose.

“Can I ask you something I’ve always wondered about?” I said.

“Yeah, what’s that?” he said, rolling his shoulders, squaring up.

“Are the bologna sandwiches at Rikers Island as good as they say?”

“Why you—” he said as Mathias stepped between us.

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