The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"I really don't have a lot of time, Nick."

"Sure, sure." Looking her over fast. Then back to her eyes. "I read about you in the paper. You've got a partner now. The guy used to be head of IR."

Investigation Resources, the old name of the division that Crime Scene was part of. "I met him a couple times. Legend. Is he really...?"

"He's disabled, yes." Silence.

He seemed to sense niceties were clinkers. "Look, I need to talk to you. Tonight, maybe tomorrow, could we get coffee?"

No. Gate closed, window shut, water over dam, under bridge.

"Tell me now."

Money, a recommendation for a job? He was never getting back on the force; a felony conviction precluded that.

"Okay, I'll make it fast, Ame..."

Using his pet name for her grated.

He took a breath. "I'll just lay it all out for you. The thing is, about my conviction? The 'jacking, assault? You know all the details."

Of course she did. The crime was a bad one. Nick had been busted for being behind a string of hijackings of merchandise and prescription drug shipments. In the last one, before he was caught, he'd beaten a driver with his pistol. The Russian immigrant, father of four, had been in the hospital for a week.

He leaned forward, eyes drilling into hers. He whispered, "I never did it, Ame. Never did a single thing I was arrested for."

Her face flushed, hearing this, and her heart began throbbing. She glanced back through the curtained window that bordered the door. No sign of her mother. She'd also looked away to buy a moment to wrestle with what she'd just heard. Finally she turned back. "Nick, I don't know what to say. Why is this coming up now? Why are you here?"

And her heart continued beat frantically, like the wings of a bird cupped in your hands. She thought: Could it be true?

"I need your help. Not a soul in the world is going help me but you, Ame."

"Don't call me that. That's the old life. That's not now."

"Sorry. I'll tell you fast, I'll explain." A lengthy breath, in and out. Then: "Donnie was the one working the hijackings. Not me."

Nick's younger brother.

She could hardly comprehend this. The quiet one of the two siblings was a dangerous criminal? She recalled that the hijacker had worn a ski mask and was never identified by the truck driver.

Nick continued, "He had his problems. You know."

"The drugs. Drinking, sure. I remember." The two brothers were so very different, not even resembling each other. Donnie was almost rat-like in manner and nature, Sachs remembered thinking back then, feeling uneasy with the spontaneous image. In addition to the looks, Nick got the confidence, Donnie the uncertainty and anxiety--and the need to numb both of those. She'd tried to engage him in conversation when they went out to dinner, tell jokes, ask about his continuing-education classes but he'd grow shy and evasive. And occasionally hostile. Suspicious. She believed he was envious of his elder brother for having a former fashion model girlfriend. She remembered too how he would disappear into the men's room and return buoyant and talkative.

Nick continued, "The evening it all went down, the bust... Remember, you were on night watch?"

She nodded. As if she could ever forget.

"I got a call from Mom. She thought Donnie'd started using again. I asked around and heard he might be meeting somebody near the Third Street Bridge. Had some deal going down."

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The ancient bridge, over a hundred years old, spanned the Gowanus, a sludgy canal in Brooklyn.

"I knew something bad was going to happen, if it hadn't already. That 'hood? Had to be. I headed over there right away. I didn't see Donnie but around the corner was the truck, the semi, parked, the doors open. The driver was on the ground, bleeding from his ears, the truck was empty. I called nine one one from a pay phone, anonymous, reported it. Then I went straight to Donnie's apartment. There he was, stoned. And he wasn't alone." He was now staring into her eyes; his were fierce. She had to look down. "Delgado, remember him? Vinnie Delgado."

Vaguely. A gangbanger in BK. Bay Ridge, maybe. Not really connected, not high up anyway. A piece of scum, acting like the Godfather, even though his base of operation was a dive of a magazine/tobacco store. Dead, she also believed--executed for encroaching on a serious crew's turf.

"He got Donnie to work for him. Helping Delgado's crew 'jack and move some stuff off trucks, get it to the fences, middlemen. Promised Donnie all the 'ludes and coke he wanted."