GIBRALTAR
Chapter 5
Bara had a lot on his mind, and it had little to do with the camera hanging around his neck. It didn't take him long to speak his piece. "Brian, that was a hell of a job you just did," he said as soon as they got on the elevator. "You know I'd love having you stay on this case."
"But?" McKenna said, prodding Bara on.
"Cisco. He has a tough time following directions when they don't exactly coincide with the way he thinks things should be done."
"I know he ran you ragged and tried your patience on that last case," McKenna conceded.
"That he did."
"But there's no escaping the fact that he still did good and managed to close the case with good results."
"It turned out okay. We got our man, and both the Bureau and the NYPD wound up looking very good."
"So everybody was happy except you."
The elevator doors opened. They stepped out into the lobby, but Bara wasn't done. "Forget me, for the moment," he insisted. "Let's talk about this case. There's already police agencies from three countries involved. To solve it, we're going to need a team effort–and that bruising ego Cisco sports on his sleeve doesn't facilitate cooperation."
"Only with team players who don't realize that he's almost as good as he thinks he is, and sometimes just as good. He'd add a lot to this case, once people got used to his ways."
"And you're used to his ways?"
"He drives me nuts sometimes, but just as often he makes me laugh. We're a team."
"An inseparable team?"
"If I had a choice, I wouldn't go without him. I want to work this case, but so does Cisco."
"Sure he does. He smells headlines and glory, another chance for him to dance center stage in the spotlight."
"And show off some pretty good police work while he's at it," McKenna countered. "That'll happen, but that's not why he wants this case. He wants it for the same reason I want it."
"Carmen?"
"Yeah, Carmen. Like me, he knows her, respects her, and loves her in a certain way. Remember, it isn't often in this game that you get the chance to help out somebody you actually know and like."
"Then you should both keep this in mind. There will be plenty of international police cooperation on this case, but we're only actually working the New York angle. Freeing Carmen will be up to the Guardia Civil."
"I know that, but all three cases are intertwined. We catch the people who took the ambassador, and then we squeeze them–maybe even turn them–and we might be in a good position to help the Spanish police get her back."
"I hope you don't mean physically help them."
"That would be nice," McKenna said, "but that's not what I mean. They're sending us intelligence information on the ETA. We do our jobs right, and we'll be sending quite a bit of information back to them."
"If I do it, I know I'll regret letting Cisco in. Give me some time to think about it," Bara asked.
"Can't do that Tommy. He's already contributed too much to cut him out. Can we be candid for a moment?"
"Sure, but I already know what you're gonna say: I'm the boss, but you've got the weight."
"True, but that's not what I was going to say. I was gonna ask what you think Juan Diego Ibarretxe is doing right now."
"Talking on the phone with somebody high up in the state department, making an official diplomatic request that you be assigned to this case," Bara said. "Hell, with the heat that's already on, he might even be talking to the secretary of state himself."
"Right. So without calling in any chips, I'm in anyway. And if I make some noise about bringing Cisco along, then what?"
"He's in, too. I see what you're getting at," Bara said. "It hurts me to say it, but why don't I make things easier on everybody involved by asking him in myself now?"
"That would be the best way. Make him feel welcome, and maybe we'll be able to keep him off his high horse."
"We? You mean, you'd help me with that?"
"Sure. Keeping him happy keeps everybody else from being miserable, me included. Ready for another suggestion?"
"Shoot."
"Today's supposed to be our day off, and there's still plenty to do. Tomorrow's another story, just legwork involving developing the information we get today and digesting the Guardia Civil's ETA files. Give us tomorrow off, and have us report to the Joint Terrorist Task Force on Tuesday morning."
"I sure wouldn't mind a day without Cisco, but I don't get your reasoning."
"I'll spend tomorrow with him, away from the work setting. We'll be talking about the value of things like diplomacy, humility, respect for authority, and playing well with others."
"I don't think you'll make much of an impact, but I'd be grateful for the effort. You've got a deal."
"Good. Next issue: How long will it take you to have that film developed?"
"On a Sunday? I don't know," Bara said. "I don't think we can get it done commercially today, and our Photo Section doesn't work Sundays."
"Neither does ours."
"I guess I'll have to call one of our photo technicians in, but I don't know how long it will take."
"Why bother?" McKenna asked. "Do you know Joe Walsh?"
"That blowhard? Know him well enough to despise him."
"Do you know him well enough to know that he's a great amateur photographer, and that he develops all his own pictures in the photo lab he's got set up in his basement."
"Maybe I don't despise him all that much," Bara said. "Where does he live?"
"Park Slope, Brooklyn. With no traffic, about a half hour from here."
"Would he do us that favor?"
"He'd do me that favor, if there was something in it for him that only you could arrange," McKenna said. "Should arrange, I might add, because he's the best crime technician in the business. He's done pretty good today, finding things anyone else might've missed."
"Like what?"
"It was him that found the coins."
"You didn't mention it was him that found them."
"Because I knew we'd have to talk about it. Walsh still has them, along with the twenty dollar bill, the butt, the spent cartridge case, and the señora's belt buckle."
"Then I'll get them from him," Bara said. "This is a federal case, and we're the ones who are going to be processing the evidence."
"We're talking fingerprint evidence here, and nobody can lift prints like Walsh can," McKenna stated.
"We've got some pretty good people, you know. Nationally renowned."
"Nobody as good as Walsh, and this is the most important case to come along in some time. Use him, and you can rest assured you'll get good lifts on any remotely usable prints that are on those things."
"Brian, do you have any pals who aren't complete egotistical pains in the ass?"
"Yes, but they aren't the best at what they do. Cisco and Walsh are."
"If I let Walsh do it, can you keep him from tooting his own horn in the press about it?"
"Yes, at least until this case is over."
"Then that's fine, I guess. Once the case is over, anything he has to say will only make the back pages."
"Thanks, Tommy. Let's go give them the news."
"How's this. I don't feel like talking to Walsh, so you give him the news and the rules."
"Fine."
Bara took the camera from around his neck and gave it to McKenna.
Walsh's Crime Scene Unit van had been moved to the corner of East 81st Street and Fifth Avenue. A black building maintenance worker was manning the door at 920 Fifth Avenue, so McKenna guessed that Cisco was using his "break" to grill the boys' father. There were two pay phones side-by-side on the East 81st Street side of the building.
They found Walsh behind the wheel of his van, working on the Sunday Times crossword puzzle. Bara waited in front of the building while McKenna talked to him.
"How'd you do with the phones?" McKenna asked.
"Perfect. Lifted some prints while the doorman watched, real interested. Then Cisco talked to him. The dope denied making the call, said he never used that pay phone. Then Cisco told him we had his voice on tape from his nine-one-one call, so it would be better for him if he `fessed up. Confused the guy, but he still denied making the call. Next, Cisco told him we probably had his prints from the phone."
"And that did it?"
"No. This guy really didn't want to talk, so Cisco gave him that big-time federal threat."
"Lying to us isn't a crime, but lying to the FBI is?" McKenna guessed.
"That's the one. Cisco told the guy he could be back with a fed in two minutes so he could tell his lies again. That might've done it, because the guy started blabbing."
"What did he say?"
"Don't know. They went into Spanish at that point, and then Cisco took him to the maintenance office in the building to interview him."
"And they're still in there?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then Cisco is busy and doing good. Are you ready for a few very important missions that will keep you pretty busy for a while?"
"Very important missions? Of course. That's what I do," Walsh said.
"We need all the evidence you have dusted by the best."
"Including the brass buckle?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then it will be. Who specifically is we?"
"Tommy, Cisco, me, and the other members of the Joint Terrorist Task Force."
"Are you and Cisco making the move?"
"Only until this case is over."
"Good thinking. The feds are a glory-hogging bunch who never give us credit when credit is due, but it tickles me to learn they've finally come to their senses," Walsh said. "Did you get them to actually admit that Joe Walsh is the best crime scene man in the country?"
"In so many words, but here's the deal. You still can't tell your reporter pals how good you're making us all look until the case is over."
Walsh appeared physically hurt by that rule. "No matter how good I do?"
"No matter. It's the same Sheeran Rule he gave you this morning, doubly reinforced. If you can promise me that you'll play by that rule, I've got an even bigger mission for you."
"Tough one for me, but you've got my promise. Let's have it."
McKenna gave him the camera. "There's thirty-four pictures in there that we need developed in a hurry by an expert."
"You got one. Pictures of what?"
"We're hoping pictures of the kidnappers while they were acting as bird watchers in the park."
"How'd you get this camera?"
"I'll tell you, but we don't have time to talk right now. Bring me the pictures, and you get the whole story."
"How many prints, what size, and where do you want them delivered too?"
"As many as you can, in whatever size you think best, and delivered to the Nineteenth Precinct as soon as possible."
"Say no more." Walsh put on his seat belt, and a moment later he was speeding down Fifth Avenue, roof lights flashing and siren blaring.
"Looks like you really wound him up," Bara said when as McKenna rejoined him. "Did he understand the gag rule?"
"He understood, and you won't be reading any of his exploits in the press until this case is resolved."
"I hope so. Where's Cisco."
"In this building behind us, talking to the doorman."
"Another witness?"
"Made one of the nine-one-one calls this morning, and he's the father of the kids we found in the park. Reluctant at first, but Cisco and Walsh fixed that. Cisco's had him in there for a while, so I'm guessing he's got a lot to tell. You wanna go in and find them?"
"No," Bara said. "For me, inviting Cisco aboard will be a personally unpleasant chore. I'd rather wait as long as possible before doing it."
"All right. Then why don't we talk about the dog while we're waiting."
"I'll listen to your thoughts."
"Okay. First, let's make a few assumptions. Let's assume that this whole kidnapping team is from Spain."
"Fine."
"And they arrived here some weeks ago, at least, with the express purpose of planning the ambassador's kidnapping on this specific date, and then pulling it off."
"Another good assumption," Bara said. "It had to be today, because they wanted all three kidnappings to take place on the same date. Big surprise for the Spanish government."
"So we're looking for some recent arrivals who somehow acquired a female golden retriever named Duchess. Now, here's a tough one. Let's assume the dog has a license."
"That is a tough one. Señora Clavero said she wasn't sure whether or not the dog had a license."
"I know, but we'll know more after we talk to her doorman. In any event, the dog knows and likes Number One, the driver. That means he's had the dog for a while, probably since this kidnapping was in the planning stage. They decided they needed a dog for their plan, and they got that one. The question is, where did they get it from?"
"Could be anyplace. The ASPCA, a pet shop, a friend, or maybe they found it in the street."
"Let's go through them, one by one. If it's the ASPCA, they require that you produce some kind of ID, get a license for the animal, and that license has got to be mailed to the address on your ID."
"Tedious job, going through all the ASPCA records for a golden retriever adopted in the last month, but not a hard job. I guess it has to be done," Bara said.
"Maybe, but I don't think it's the ASPCA. This group wouldn't want to show any kind of ID to get the dog, and I think we can discount pet shops as well. They usually sell puppies, and Duchess isn't a puppy."
"So where does that leave us? Got it from a friend, or found it on the street?"
"If they just borrowed the dog for the job, I think you can discount the friend angle. They were going to leave it on the set, and how would they explain that to whoever? And what friend would want their dog associated with a kidnapping of this magnitude, anyway–even if he gave them the dog?
"I see. If this friend gave them the dog for the job, he would have to know what they were planning. So you're saying it's most likely they found the dog on the street?"
"Or stole it. If that happened, there's a good chance that there's a police record on the theft somewhere."
"Easy enough to find out. So if we find out Duchess was stolen, where does that leave us?"
"Maybe with a neighborhood where they're staying right now, a place to start looking if everything else we're doing right now doesn't work out."
Bara looked at his watch. "Eleven thirty. Considering that the kidnapping happened less than four hours ago, I'd say that we're pretty far along in this investigation already.
"We've been lucky so far," McKenna said. "If it slows down, we're going to be spending a lot of time looking for people seen walking a golden retriever named Duchess."
"I don't think it will come to that," Bara said.
"Let's hope not, but it might."
They spent a few minutes in silence, and then Cisco came out of the building alone.
"Where's the doorman?" McKenna asked.
"Downstairs, changing."
"Is he done for the day?"
"He is now. I talked to the building manager for him. Our favorite doorman is taking the rest of the day off, and probably the rest of the week off. He's going to call his wife, then we're going to take him and the boys out for a nice lunch."
"You got a lot from him?" Bara asked.
"Enough to make him a material witness. The government's going to be paying to stash him and his family in a nice hotel."
"Does he know that?"
"Know it? Had to promise him that before he'd talk at length. Also had to promise him that they'd all be under guard until we rounded up all the desperadoes involved, and that still wasn't enough to get him really talking."
"You didn't promise to pay him for the information, did you?" Bara asked.
"No, I simply told him that the ETA had also kidnapped Carmen de la Cruz. He's a religious man and a real fan of hers, and that pissed him off good and proper. When I told him that telling me everything he knows might help us get her back, he was ready to talk and talk and talk."
"What'd you get?"
"The rest of the story, and a few bonuses. Plate number on the van, and he had a partial plate on the other backup car. It's an old Lincoln Towncar, late eighties or early nineties. Made a few calls, and now I've got both plate numbers they had on those vehicles this morning. Both sets were stolen from the Macy's parking garage in Queens last night."
"They only stole the plates?"
"Uh-huh. The plates were all they needed."
"Then that doesn't help us much," Bara noted. "Those plates are off those cars by now."
"But it does tell us that the vehicles they used probably aren't stolen," Cisco countered. "If they were stolen, why would they bother to put stolen plates on top of stolen plates? They would just dump the van and the Towncar when they were done with the job."
"I agree," McKenna said. "They've still got the van and the Towncar, and probably legally own them."
"And we're going to find out who at least one of them is and where he lives, because Cisco has much more to tell. Our doorman watched that Lincoln get a parking ticket two weeks ago, right over there," Cisco added, pointing across Fifth Avenue.
"Start at the beginning," Bara said.
Cisco did. The doorman, Juan Santos, and his family had moved to the U.S. from Madrid four years before when an uncle living in New York had arranged to get him into Local 32B, the building workers' union, and got him the doorman job at 920 Fifth Avenue. He knew the doormen from the ambassador's building, and knew that the Spanish ambassador lived there. He had also spoken with Jorge Dominguez a few times, and knew that he was the ambassador's bodyguard.
Santos worked every Sunday from 6:00 \plain\fs20 A.M.\plain to 2:00 \plain\fs20 P.M\plain ., and his wife worked Sundays for a Midtown office cleaning firm. As the boys had said, they stayed with him on Saturday, usually playing in the park while he was at work. Then they all met at Santos's building at 2:00 P.M. for the ride home to the Bronx.
It was two Sundays before that Santos had first noticed the van and the Towncar. The drivers had pulled up across Fifth Avenue from his building, and six or seven people had gotten out. Santos hadn't paid much attention to them the first Sunday, but he had noticed that one of the passengers was a very pretty woman with long black hair. A few members of the group had binoculars and cameras, and they all hopped the wall and disappeared into the park. Since that section of Fifth Avenue along the park was a No Parking Zone, the drivers remained with the van and the Towncar. The group emerged from the park a couple of hours later, got back in the van and the Towncar, and all left.
Santos's curiosity had been aroused when the group returned the next Sunday at about 7:00 \plain\fs20 A.M\plain . and repeated the procedure, leaving the two drivers in the cars. The Towncar was parked behind the van, and the Towncar driver got into the van to chat with the driver while they were waiting.
Santos was inside at about eight o'clock, talking with the concierge, but he kept his eye on the door and saw a radio car pull behind the Towncar. The driver of the radio car was writing a parking ticket for the Towncar, so he went outside and yelled to the men in the van, telling them that the Towncar was getting a ticket.
The men in the van had then done something Santos had thought strange at the time. He had figured that the driver of the Towncar would get out of the van and try to talk the cop out of the ticket, but he didn't. The van just pulled away, the cop put the ticket on the windshield of the Towncar, and then the radio car drove off.
The van returned a few minutes later, and the driver parked it in the same spot. The Towncar driver left the van, took the parking ticket off the windshield, put it in his pocket, and waited in the Towncar until the group returned.
Today, Santos half-expected them to return again, and they did–again at 7:00 \plain\fs20 A.M\plain .–but this time they had the dog with them. Only the woman and two others hopped the wall into the park, and one of them was wearing black pants, a green guayaberra shirt, and carrying a gym bag. Two men and the dog walked south on Fifth Avenue, and they were also dressed in green guayaberra shirts and black pants. Santos lost sight of them when they crossed Fifth Avenue and walked down East 79th Street.
At least four men remained with the van and the Towncar. Santos saw two sitting in the Towncar, and two sitting in the front seats of the van. He had no idea what the group was doing, but his curiosity was definitely aroused.
Around 7:30, Santos noticed that one of the men in the guayaberra shirts–the one without the dog–was standing on East 80th Street, just off the corner of Fifth Avenue. Santos looked down Fifth Avenue, and saw the one with the dog standing near the corner of East 79th Street. Santos was watching them when the concierge came out to tell him he was going downstairs to use the men's room.
Santos returned his attention to the van and the Towncar when he saw that the drivers in each had started their engines and were talking on radios. He had the feeling then that something was going to happen, but he didn't know what. He watched the Towncar pull out, go south on Fifth Avenue, and he stepped into the street to get the plate number as it was leaving. He got it, and he saw the Towncar double park on the other side of East 79th Street. The two men got out of the Towncar, and were looking north on Fifth Avenue. Santos thought they were looking at him, and then he noticed the two men in the van were definitely looking at him.
It was then that Santos felt that, whatever was going to happen, it would be something bad. He also got the feeling that, if he stayed around to watch, something bad would happen to him. He turned around, walked into the building, and wrote down the Towncar's plate number. He then looked outside, and saw that the men in the van had shifted their attention to the dog walker with the four dogs. She was on the other side of Fifth Avenue, and had just walked pass the van, but she didn't appear to be paying any attention to them.
Santos was just about to call the police from the concierge desk when he heard the shots outside, and then a woman screaming. He looked outside and saw the dog walker run past without the dogs. The man in the passenger's seat in the van was looking down Fifth Avenue, but the driver was looking through the building door at Santos. The woman had stopped screaming.
At that point, calling the police sounded like a bad idea to Santos. Less than a minute later, the van pulled slowly from the curb. Santos went outside to get the plate number, but only managed to get the last three digits, 145. He saw the van stop for a red light a few blocks down Fifth Avenue, and he was pretty sure it was behind the Towncar and another car. When the light changed, the three cars continued south down Fifth Avenue, and he saw that they all turned left in a line someplace around East 74th Street.
Santos then ran down Fifth Avenue to see what had happened. The doorman from the ambassador's building was holding the ambassador's wife, and she appeared to be in shock. The two bodies were on the ground, and he recognized Jorge Dominguez. He didn't know the chauffeur, but he surmised he was the Spanish ambassador dead on the sidewalk.
It was at that moment Santos realized who the people were he had been watching for three Sundays in a row; for the first time, the ETA was operating in the U.S. He walked back up Fifth Avenue, passed his building, and called 911 from the pay phone. He reported the two murders, but panicked when the 911 operator asked for his name. Having lived most of his life in Spain, he knew that, given the chance, the ETA dealt harshly with witnesses against them. He hung up, and decided not to mention another word about the killers to anyone.
After he had finished interviewing Santos, Cisco had called the NYPD Alarm Board and gave them the Towncar's plate. As he had expected, they told him there was an alarm on the plates, and they had been stolen the night before from a car in the Macy's parking garage in Queens.
Next, Cisco had called the 115th Precinct, the precinct that covers the Queens Macy's store. He asked the clerk at the complaint desk if any other license plates had been reported stolen in the Macy's garage last night. There were; commercial license plates bearing the number GX-109145 had also been stolen from a van in the Macy's garage, so Cisco had the plate number that had been on their van when the ETA kidnapped the ambassador.
"So the woman and two others went into the park," Bara said when Cisco had finished his account. "We know that the one in the green shirt has the rifle in the gym bag, and he leaves in the ambassador's car–with the rifle, but without the gym bag. Also in the gym bag had to be radios so the woman and the other guy could direct the operation."
"Figure some extra firepower, too, just in case anything went wrong on them," Cisco said. "According to Santos, the bag was bulky.
"Alright, but does Santos say that he never saw the woman and the other one get back in the van or the Towncar?"
"Never saw them again once they entered the park, so those two didn't make the escape with the rest of the crew. Might've just walked out of the park and hailed a taxi, but we can't be sure. Those two are the only loose ends in Santos's story."
"No matter. Cisco, you did real good," Bara said. "So good, in fact, that I'm hoping you'll consider an offer."
"Cisco is prepared to consider."
"I'm hoping you'll accept an assignment to the Joint Terrorist Task Force to continue working this case."
"A very sensible offer, Mr. Bara, but Cisco must first consult his loyal assistant."
"I already told him, Cisco," McKenna said. "If you go, I'll go."
"Then it is decided. Mr. Bara, Cisco will lend his extensive expertise to your unit until he brings all these lowlife, murdering, filthy foreign scoundrels to justice."
"There's also a small problem here, Cisco," McKenna said. "I promised Tommy that you'd get off your high horse, that you wouldn't annoy him at all, and that you'd work hard at getting along with all the mere mortals in his unit."
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Brian, you're taking all the fun out of this job. Are you saying that you want me to be just like you?"
"I guess that's one way of looking at it."
"Alright. I guess I can be boring for a while, if it's absolutely necessary," Cisco said, then turned to Bara. "Tommy, I accept your terms, and I won't be giving you any problems."
"Very glad to hear it," Bara said, and the two men shook on the deal.
"So I'm in for the duration, but would you mind answering a few questions for me?" Cisco asked.
"Not at all. Go ahead."
"Would you agree that it shouldn't take cops like us too long to wrap up this New York crew?"
"We're doing good, so far."
"Very good, maybe?"
"Okay, it appears that we're doing very good," Bara conceded.
"Then please tell me that we're in this until we get Carmen back."
"Cisco, you know I can't do that," Bara said, shaking his head. "We'll do our job in New York, which means getting the ambassador back and arresting those responsible for his kidnapping."
"And that's it? We get the ambassador back, and it's case closed?"
"Basically. If we develop information along the way that helps the Spanish police locate Carmen, so much the better. But keep in mind that the ambassador is our mission, not Carmen."
"Cisco doesn't like that answer."
