Page 65 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“In that case, do me a favor, Doc,” I said, flashing her a smile. “Stop probing my fucking psyche and turn off the lights.”

CHAPTER 43

Martin Sheffieldhad led the deep, dark clandestine life of a professional assassin for decades. First as a government agent, sanctioned, killing with immunity, and then moving outside the law as a private contractor. He could have taken his secrets to the grave, but as his time on earth ran out, he decided to unburden himself. He opened up to Theo. Then he left behind a box filled with history, where a smart cop like Rich Koprowski could delve into his past.

I knew that Rich would spend a good part of the night at the precinct digging through the letters, photos, and other keepsakes of Sheffield’s covert existence. What I didn’t know was that he wouldn’t be doing it on his own.

At six a.m., Kylie texted me.

Couldn’t sleep. Went in. Working with Rich. Facial recognition got a hit on Alice. 3rd floor conference room. Bring coffee.

I got there in twenty minutes. Kylie and Rich jumped on the coffee. The conference table was cluttered with the remnants of a long night’s work. Captain Cates was standing next to a wall that had been organized into five sections, each with a name at the top. Alice. Barbara. Carol. Denise. Emily. The noms de guerre of the five mercenaries who called themselves the Sorority.

Beneath each name were pictures, printouts, and other evidence that Kylie and Rich had deemedwall-worthy.

“Kylie and I are still connecting the dots,” Rich said, “but we’ll show you where we are so far. I want to start with something we found in Martin Sheffield’s room.”

There was a photo of Sheffield in the Denise section. A handwritten letter was next to it.

Rich tapped on his laptop, and a much larger, clearly readable image of the letter appeared on the adjacent wall.

Camp David, June 4, 2004

Dear Martin,

Your service to the country following the tragic events of 9/11 has been unprecedented and unparalleled. I am humbled by your sacrifice and indebted to you for protecting the lives and liberties of countless of your fellow Americans.

I know you understand why this commendation could not be public, but that in no way should diminish my undying admiration and respect for all you have accomplished. On behalf of a grateful nation, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your selflessness, your dedication, and your heroism.

It was signed by the president of the United States.

“There are probably four more letters just like this one,” Kylie said. “It’s not going to help us in the investigation. Rich and I just wanted to lead off with it, so you get a feeling of the kind of freedom these men had. They were like thereal-lifeversion of thedouble-ohsection of MI6—licensed to kill.

“At one point, they were the good guys working for thecommander-in-chief. Then they were disbanded. It was a political decision—not a reflection on their abilities to get the job done. The president could only thank them for their service in secret. We’re sure they were given generous pensions in exchange for their total silence. There was only one problem that the government hadn’t counted on. These men were still only in their late forties—trained killers at the top of their game. They weren’t ready to give up the one thing they could do best.”

“So they went into business for themselves,” Cates said.

“Yes,” Koprowski said. “But Theo made it clear that none of them were interested in running the business. These men were soldiers. They were trained to follow orders. They carried out missions handed down from on high. So they took on a manager.”

“The one they call ‘Mother,’” Cates said.

“And here she is,” Koprowski said. He touched a key on the laptop, and an image flashed on the wall. It was the iconic portrait of Whistler’s Mother. It made me smile, but it was also a nagging reminder of how little we knew about the Sorority’s conduit to the outside world.

“She looks pretty harmless,” Kylie said. “But she may be the most lethal one of them all. That’s because she’s the one calling the shots. Whoever put the hit out on the Hellman brothers had to go through her. When Sheffield started giving away all the Sorority’s trade secrets, who do you think told Winstanley to kill him? Then when we arrested Winstanley, who do you think gave the order to eliminate him? All roads lead to Mother, and we know nothing about her—or him. Damn, these people weregender-fluidbefore it was cool.”

“Kylie and I are both a littlesleep-deprivedright now,” Koprowski said. “But somewhere around four a.m., that’s where we netted out. These men were comrades in arms. They would never have turned on each other without being told. But once they got the order, they didn’t hesitate to follow through. They understood that they couldn’t allow the unit to be compromised, even if it meant killing one of their own.”

“Winstanley knew that when he stepped out into the parking lot,” I said. “And he accepted it. Maybe even embraced it.”

“It’s the way of the samurai,” Koprowski said.

“Incredibly insightful,” Cates said.

“There’s more. We found this among Sheffield’s souvenirs.”

He flashed a photo on the wall: four men on a fishing boat posing with a huge striper.

“It was taken fifteen to twenty years ago,” Kylie said. “You can recognize Sheffield on the right, and that’s Winstanley next to him. And the guy holding the fish looks like our sketch of Barbara.”

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