In Plain Sight

With that he turned and reached out to open the front door, but stopped. He remembered what happened to the squat officer when he’d reached for Alex.

“I’ll get it,” Alex said, tearing his arm free of the tall officer and opening the door. They needn’t have worried. There weren’t any runes keeping people from leaving the house, only from entering.

* * *

The officers bundled Alex in the back of a cruiser with the fireplug on one side and the detective on the other while beanpole drove. The car had an antenna on the roof that collected power from Empire Tower to run its electric motor. The sorcerer William Todd had given the New York police over one hundred of these cars as a goodwill gesture. That, and to annoy Rockefeller, who was trying to make his crawler magic work in smaller vehicles like cars. The two had been feuding for years and the police had benefited from it. Todd had even given the department a small number of experimental flying units he called Floaters, but despite their obvious advantages, they were slow and difficult to maneuver, so the police didn’t use them much.

The central station for the Manhattan office of the New York police department was located halfway between Empire Tower and the park. It stood ten stories high and housed most of the Island’s officers, detectives, and facilities. The office of Captain Patrick Rooney was on the tenth floor. Rooney was responsible for all the detectives on the island and had a dozen lieutenants under him, each responsible for a section of territory. Unlike Lieutenant Callahan, Rooney had gotten his job the really old-fashioned way — he was the son of a senator. Like most political appointees, Captain Rooney didn’t care about the actual police work, so long as nothing made him look bad.

As far as Alex knew, he hadn’t done anything high profile enough to get on Rooney’s hit list. Still, whatever the Captain wanted to see him about must be bad or he wouldn’t have sent his personal goon squad to bring Alex in. They escorted him up to the tenth floor and then to the back of the building where the Captain’s office was.

Rooney was a big man with big hands, big feet, a big nose and a big opinion of his own importance. He stood six feet three with broad shoulders, pale skin and red hair that he kept close-cut. When the sneering detective opened the door, Rooney’s face was already red as a beet. There were half a dozen people in the room, including Callahan and Danny Pak.

“It’s about time,” Rooney roared. “What kept you?”

“A septuagenarian doctor,” Alex said with a completely straight face.

“Did you search him?” Rooney asked with a gleam in his eye.

The detective patted Alex down and reluctantly reported that he had no weapons. The crestfallen look on Rooney’s face gave Alex pause. He hadn’t looked around at the others in the room when he’d been brought in, but a quick look told him that they were all trying very hard not to be noticed, even Danny. Whatever got Rooney all steamed up, it was bad.

“So,” the Captain said, focusing his attention on Alex. “What do you have to say for yourself?

“Well, I’m a Sagittarius, an above average poker player, and a fine judge of liquor and women.”

A chuckle ran around the room and Rooney swelled up like he would burst, then mastered himself and sat down behind his desk. Whatever he was mad about must be serious for him to exercise such self-control. Alex had probably made it worse with his wisecrack, but at least now he knew the waters in which he was swimming.

“You’re a funny man, Lockerby,” Rooney said, his voice quiet and even. If anything it was more disturbing than his yelling. “I wonder how funny you’ll find it when I charge you with obstruction, interfering with a police investigation, destroying evidence, and anything else I can think of?”

Alex had long ago mastered his poker face, so he just smiled, but his mind reeled at Rooney’s declaration. If the Chief could make any of those charges stick, true or not, Alex would lose his investigator’s license at best, or at worst, go to jail.

“Now why would you want to charge a nice guy like me with anything like that, Captain?” Alex said. “You know I stay out of your investigations unless you invite me in.”

“I never invited you anywhere, you charlatan,” Rooney growled, his temper edging back. “That was your friend over there.”’ He nodded in Danny’s direction. “If he wasn’t a damn good detective, he’d be directing traffic by the park right now.”

So whatever this was about, Danny had brought Alex into it. The only job they’d done recently was the murdered customs agent, Jerry Pemberton.

“I take it you didn’t catch Mr. Pemberton’s murderer at the customs warehouse?”

Rooney’s fists clenched so tightly that his fingers turned white. He had been enjoying Alex’s bewilderment and now his toy had been taken away.

“No, we didn’t catch him,” Rooney said. “And you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

Now Alex really was confused.