“We have a crime scene to secure,” the man said.
“It’s an NYPD crime scene, and it’s already secured,” Dino replied, not budging.
“We have an injured FBI agent in there,” Torrelli said.
“No, you don’t. He’s already on the way to a hospital. There are no other FBI personnel inside, just two murder victims, and murder, if I may remind you, is not a federal crime. Now, if you want to hang around and see what happens, you may do so at my invitation, but don’t get in my way, and get these storm troopers out of here, now.”
Torrelli thought about it for a moment. “Everybody back in the vehicles,” he said. “Return to base and wait for my call.” The men got back in the vans and drove away. “Now, Detective . . .”
“Lieutenant Bacchetti,” Dino said, “commander of the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct.”
“Can you tell me what happened here?”
“Yeah. The director of the FBI and his deputy took the head of British Intelligence and his colleague out to dinner, guarded by two FBI agents. The Brit went to the men’s room, and a young woman hit one of the agents over the head and shot the Brit and the men’s-room attendant. She left the premises. That’s all I’ve got, at the moment, but when we’re done here, there ought to be enough embarrassment for the FBI to last for years.”
Torrelli’s jaw began to work, but he managed to get a few words out. “Has the young woman been apprehended?”
“No, and I don’t expect she will be right away.”
“Has she been identified?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
“I’m not at liberty to give you that information at the moment. Maybe later.”
“Lieutenant, if I have to go to the commissioner or the mayor himself, I’m going to know everything there is to know about this case.”
“I’ll send you a copy of my report,” Dino said. “Now why don’t you go up to the bar and have a drink. We don’t need you right now.”
“Can I see the bodies?”
“They’re dead. Two slugs in the Brit, one in the attendant. That’s all you need to know.”
“I’d like to put the FBI crime lab at your disposal,” the agent said.
“From what I’ve heard about the FBI lab, I think I’d rather handle it in-house,” Dino said.
The man, who was much larger than Dino, looked as if he wanted to beat him into the ground. “I’ll be in my car,” he said, and returned to his van.
Dino and Stone walked back into the restaurant.
“You’re going to hear about that,” Stone said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dino got out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button. He held the phone to his ear. “Sir, it’s Bacchetti. This is where we stand.” He gave a concise report to the commissioner. “And the FBI is already trying to horn in on our scene. I’d appreciate your help in keeping them off my back, so I can get this thing cleared and make an arrest.” He listened for a moment. “Thank you, sir.” He hung up and turned toward Stone. “I don’t think we have to worry too much about the Feds.”
“What next?” Stone asked.
Dino’s phone went off. “Bacchetti.” His eyes widened. “Location?” He snapped the phone shut. “We’ve got a fix on her cell phone.”
51
Dino reached into the front seat and picked up a handheld radio. “Remind me what’s at Madison and Seventy-third,” he said to Stone.
“A lot of very expensive shops,” Stone replied.
“Listen up,” Dino said into the radio to the four detectives in the car behind him. “Get out at Sixty-fifth and Madison and work your way north, shop by shop. I’ll be working south from Seventy-sixth Street. We’re looking for a good-looking white woman, probably alone, thirty to forty, five-six or -seven, a hundred and thirty pounds, wearing a black cocktail dress and black gloves. She may be wearing a coat, too. It’s nearly ten, and nothing’s open this time of night, but we had her standing still at Seventy-third and Madison for a couple of minutes, so she may be window-shopping. Detain and identify anybody of that description, alone or accompanied. Until you do, try not to look like cops. Be careful, because she’s armed and very dangerous.” Dino released the talk button on the radio. “This isn’t going to work,” he said.