Even by Andrew Grant Read Free Book Online Page A

across and placing her hand over mine. “Don’t do anything stupid. Ever since this Robinson thing, Washington has been looking for payback. They want their pound of flesh. Give them the chance, and they’ll take it from you.”
     
    The droplets of blood from the Nazi’s face had congealed on the bench legs and turned a dirty brown, like specks of rust. Harris spotted them when the detectives returned me to my cell. He went straight over for a closer look. Maybe word of the incident had spread around the building while we’d been upstairs.
    “Know anything about this?” he said.
    “Absolutely nothing,” I said.
    “Nothing, huh? Just like you know nothing about the guy in the alley? Well, we do know something, David. We know you killed that guy. So what you need to do is stop lying and tell us what happened, while we can still help you.”
    “What I need to do is sit here and wait for my lawyer to get me released.”
    “You can try,” Harris said. “But trust me. You’ll have a long wait.”
     
    Harris was wrong. I only had to wait forty minutes. At dead-on one o’clock he was back with Gibson, standing outside my cell, waiting for Cauldwell to work the lock. Only this time, he had his handcuffs ready.
    “On your feet,” he said. “Turn around. Show me your hands.”
    He fastened the cuffs and gave each one an extra squeeze, making sure they were clamped really tight around my wrists.
    “Ms. Wilson works fast, doesn’t she?” I said.
    “What?” Harris said.
    “Ms. Wilson. My lawyer. Works fast, to get me released already.”
    “You’re not being released, jackass. And this has nothing to do with your lawyer.”
    “No? So where are we going?”
    “We’re not going anywhere. You are. The FBI is here.”
    “Why? What do they want?”
    “Like you don’t know.”
    “I don’t know. Why is the FBI involved?”
    “Enough. Shut your mouth. Not one more word, or you’re going to take a beating right here.”
     
    Three men were waiting for us near the reception desk. I’d never seen any of them before. The little glass gate swung open as we approached and the oldest of the group stepped forward. He had short, graying hair and a bulging stomach that hung down over his belt.
    “My name is Lieutenant Hendersen, NYPD,” he said. “I’m here to inform you that at 12:05 P.M. today, jurisdiction in your case was assumed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. These gentlemen are agents. We’ve completed the paperwork. They’ll take it from here.”
    “I’m Special Agent Lavine,” the taller of the other two men said, stepping up alongside Hendersen. He was a shade over six feet tall, slim, with broad shoulders and short blond hair. His gray single-breasted suit was well cut, and his white shirt looked crisp and new next to his dark, striped tie. Cuff links peeped out from under the sleeves of his jacket, and I caught sight of initials embroidered onto his shirt pocket when he moved. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a tailor’s window, other than for his face. It looked tired and drawn, with deep lines etched into the skin around both eyes. The third guy looked muchmore awake, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. His clothes were similar, but he was an inch taller, six inches wider, and a good ten years younger. He stepped into line a moment later, moving slowly as if working hard to resist the urge to reach out and grab me.
    “This is Special Agent Weston,” Lavine said. “You’re with us, now. Come on. Time to go.”
    “The FBI are taking over?” I said to Hendersen. “Why?”
    He ignored me.
    “What about my arraignment?” I said. “Does my attorney know about this?”
    Hendersen sneered at me.
    “Good-bye, Mr. Trevellyan,” he said, and turned to walk away.
    Gibson handed my bag of possessions to Agent Weston, and Harris removed his cuffs from behind my back. I went to rub my wrists, but before I could get the circulation going again Lavine had grabbed them and