The End Game (A Brit in the FBI 3)

Nicholas said, “Mrs. Antonio, I think you’ve missed your calling. You should have been a private investigator.”

She nodded. “Not a bad idea. After five boys and thirty-two grandchildren, you bet I know how to keep my eyes on things.”

“Are you certain of their races, ma’am?” Mike asked. “Could you describe these people to a sketch artist for us?”

“I have eyes in my head, Agent Caine. Yes. I am absolutely sure, and yes, I’ll work with your people. Now I’m getting to the meat of the story, so hang on. I heard them drive back about two in the morning and looked out my window. There were only three of them, two white men and the redheaded woman. They were careful, quickly made sure there wasn’t anybody around. The Arab man was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t more than thirty minutes later when I heard the shots.”

Mike could feel Nicholas vibrate. “Tell us about the gunshots. You’re sure they were gunshots? Sure there were two?”

Mrs. Antonio said, her voice patient, as if she were speaking to an idiot, “Agent Caine, I haven’t lived in this swanky part of town all my life. I came from a worse area, up north. Trust me, I know what a gunshot sounds like. Yes, I’m sure. I heard two shots, but I didn’t know from where, so I didn’t call the police, I waited to see if there’d be anything more. Two of the men came out of the building and loaded stuff in the van. Three trips they made, then they left, fast.

“Right after I smelled smoke, I went to the window and saw Georgie’s building was on fire. I called nine-one-one, told them to get someone out here right away. There wasn’t anyone moving around, and I was worried, you know? I mean, what happened to the other man and the redheaded woman? Of course, I thought it had to be Georgie’s where the gunshots came from. And though whoever they were and whatever they’d been doing in Georgie’s apartment wasn’t my business, I still didn’t want someone to die.

“While I waited for the fire trucks to show, I saw a shadow moving on the roof. It moved real slow, then it was crawling along the edge of the roof. I realized it was the woman, the one with the red hair. I saw her pull herself to the fire escape and she climbed down like she was hurt, careful and jerky, and I thought—she was the one who got shot. She was almost down when she simply fell off and dropped like a rock into the parking lot. I was about to run out when this big black Suburban drove up and two men jumped out. One of them pointed and they ran over and grabbed her up. One shoved some sort of towel in her chest, then wrapped this big white pad around her. They picked her up and carried her together. I saw them put her real gently in the back of the Suburban and one of the men got in with her, and the other one drove away. I don’t think she was dead, not the way they were taking care of her. That’s it, that’s all I saw.”

She nodded once; she was now open for questions.

Mike said, “The men who helped, the two who took the redheaded woman away, it wasn’t two of the same men who moved in?”

r /> Mrs. Antonio shook her head. “Of course not, I would have told you if they’d been the same. No, I’d never seen them before. They were very businesslike, dressed all in black, with those black wool beanies on their heads, so I couldn’t tell their hair color. Both of ’em were tall, like you, Agent Drummond, taller than three of the four men who’d been there before. They moved young, though, now I think about it.”

She looked over at Nicholas, who’d been taking notes. “You’re a lovely big boy. You got good genes.”

Nicholas gave her a blazing smile. “I agree with the good-gene part, Mrs. Antonio. Now, I’ll bet you took down the license plate of the Suburban.”

“Of course,” she said with a grin that took years off her face. She gave Nicholas the plate number, watched him send a text to Gray. “I could never figure out how someone with big hands and fingers like yours can type on those tiny letters. You’re loaded with talent, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas said, sending another text, this one to Zachery.

“Who’d they drag out of the building? There was a body bag.”

“We don’t know yet, ma’am,” Mike said, half her attention on Nicholas’s flying fingers.

“I’m hoping it wasn’t Georgie. He’s too nice a man to die like that. Course, I’d have known if he was back home.”

Mrs. Antonio must have decided they were worthy, because she brought out a teapot and three battered mugs, poured tea before they could escape. “You’re not from around here,” she said, handing Nicholas a mug of tea. Now that she’d made their day, she was ready to flirt.

He took a grateful slurp. “No, ma’am. That’s very good. Thank you. I’m from outside of London, in the countryside, a small town you’ve never heard of.”

Mike accepted her own cup, nudged him on the shoulder. “Go on, Nicholas. Tell her who your mom is.”

“No, no, I mean—”

“Well, come on, boy, who is your mama? I’m getting older by the minute. Who knows if I even have all day?”

“My mother is Mitzie Manders. She was a comedian, starred in A Fish Out of Water, a TV show back in the early eighties.”

Mrs. Antonio’s face lit up. “A Fish Out of Water—oh, my, it was one of my favorite shows. Probably my husband’s very favorite, since he thought she was the cutest girl he’d ever seen, a funny Grace Kelly, that’s what he called her. And she’s the one responsible for making you tall and strong? How to speak such spiffy English? Did she teach you how to dress, too? Would you look at those lovely French cuffs. Very sharp. Well, I am impressed. You tell her she has a fan in Brooklyn the next time you talk to her.”

When they finished their tea, both Mike and Nicholas rose. He said, “We must be going, but we may be in touch again.” He handed her a card. “If you remember anything else, Mrs. Antonio, please call me straightaway.”

“You’ll come back and tell me what happened, won’t you?”

“We’ll circle back, absolutely.” And to himself, he made a mental note to call his mother first chance he had. They shook Mrs. Antonio’s hand, thanked her for the information and tea, and stepped out of the Laundromat in time to see a man poking around the ashes across the street. He saw them looking his way, turned on his heel, and took off running.

30

KNIGHT TAKES C3