Typical command bullshit. McManus wanted it done right, but he wanted it done fast. The two rarely went together.

Esposito knew he would have to organize a decent-size show of force. You didn’t go to an unknown location where there could be unknown firepower without as many bodies as you could muster.

But he’d have to do it within the precinct. He didn’t have enough time to liaise with other divisions for personnel. Nor was he going to get the command backup to pull that off.

McManus sat staring at him. Esposito sat thinking it through. Start with the precinct sergeants to get squads organized. Get the patrol guys to provide bodies. Gather up as many from his detective detail as possible. Then get everything coordinated and go hither and yon out to Red Hook to arrest two guys on chickenshit warrants who were clearly way more dangerous than the charges made them seem.

Esposito picked up the folder.

“I want to do this right.”

McManus gave Esposito a look that said, don’t fuck with me, and asked, “How much time?”

Esposito checked his watch. “It’s going to take me a few hours to find the bodies. Get everybody organized. Coordinate shifts. Absolute soonest I can do it is tonight, late. Actually, early Friday morning. You know the drill. Two, three in the morning. Go in hard and fast, put guns on people, haul these guys out, and get the fuck away as fast as possible.”

“Sounds good,” said McManus. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Esposito didn’t even want to think about the list of things he needed or would like. He stood up, picked up the folder, and left.

57

It was nearly dark by the time the three mercenaries left and Manny came back into the bar.

Beck told Manny, “You could have come in the back way.”

“I wanted to wait until they left.”

“What did they do after I let them spot me?”

“Took pictures of you walking in, then walked around the area, and drifted off. I guess back to their car.”

“Sounds like they were pretty thorough.”

“I suppose.”

“We should eat soon.”

“All my prep is done. I’ll move everything up to the big kitchen. ’Bout a half hour.”

“Thanks.”

*   *   *

Demarco settled into a parking space on Coney Island Avenue, just past the elevated subway tracks, a few doors south of the restaurant where they had first sent word to Kolenka.

The nearest streetlight was almost a block away on the other side of Coney Island Avenue, so the black Mercury Marauder sat in a pool of darkness. Demarco cranked back the seat and positioned himself low and even with the doorpost. Nobody driving by would spot him, but he could easily see passing traffic.

*   *   *

Beck headed upstairs and called back Ricky Bolo.

“Ricky, sorry I had to cut you short.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m a fuckin’ iron man, dude. Don’t worry.”

“How’s Jonas?”

“He’s sleeping like a baby.”

“Good. Make sure you switch off and get some sleep for yourself.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll stay sharp, even if we need a little magic potion.”

“Don’t get too cranked.”

“I already am.”

“So what happened with Milstein’s bodyguard?”

“We trailed him out of One PP. He settled in a restaurant about five blocks away. Big boy is chowing down.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. Phineas sent me the bodyguard’s address. It’s over in Clinton. I’ll text it to you. My bet is our friend Walter heads home after he eats. So you two either hang with him, or just head over there now, and make sure he ends up at home.”

“Done.”

“Then swing back down to Tribeca and get somewhere you can see Crane’s building on Hubert.”

“Okay. You expect him to be on the move?”

“No. He’s holed up in his place. But I want you to look out for three guys who might show up at his building. They’re all about the same size. About six feet or a bit under. In shape. My guess is ex-military. Not your usual Tribeca hipsters or upscale types.”

“Who are they?”

“Bad news. Keep your distance. They’re driving a blue Ford Taurus rental. License plate BLU2711. Two are wearing dark coats, one of them has a backpack. The other is wearing a silver down jacket. He has a full beard. Just hang somewhere you can see Crane’s building and tell me if they show up. I have to know what those three are doing.”

“Got it.”

“Then see if you can grab a little sleep and come out here to my place by ten o’clock.”

“What happens at ten?”

“I need you to take someone someplace.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll see.”

*   *   *

By seven o’clock, six people sat around Beck’s large rectangular dining table on the second floor. There were two large bowls of salad, one at each end of the table. A large bowl of French fries and a large bowl of steamed broccoli. Two bottles of Spanish Rioja and two six-packs of toasted amber lager in bottles. Every person had a broiled sirloin strip steak on their plate.

Manny and Beck sat at either end of the table. Joey B occupied most of the middle on one side, Olivia next to him. Ciro and Alex on the other side.

It could have been a rather hip and eclectic dinner party, except for the various shotguns and Ciro’s assault rifle propped against the dining table.

Beck waited until all the bowls were passed and drinks poured, and until everyone was well into their meals. They ate like it would be their last meal for a while. Even Olivia filled her plate and went at the steak like she was going to finish every last bite.

Beck ate slowly and methodically, limiting himself to one glass of wine, thinking over all the angles.

Finally, he said, “Okay, listen up.”

All heads turned toward Beck.

“As soon as we finish, I want you all to find a place where you can catch a few hours’ sleep. There are four beds upstairs. Plus couches on this floor. If you can’t sleep, just lie down and zone out somewhere.

“Alex, you take one of the beds upstairs. You’ve been at it a long time. We’re going to need you to follow this thing right to the end, so try to grab as much sleep as you can until we wake you.

“Olivia, you slept last night, so you keep tabs on what Crane is doing with the money while Alex is resting.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll all help Manny clean up. Then rack out. We meet back at this table right at midnight. By then, hopefully, I’ll know what our next moves are. If you have any questions, save them until later.”

There were nods and words of assent around the table. Everybody finished up their food and set to cleaning up. Olivia rose and started clearing the table, but Beck touched her arm and motioned for her to sit down in the chair closest to him.

He spoke to her in a quiet voice the others could not hear. “Listen, about ten o’clock, two men are coming to take you out of here.”

Surprised, she asked, “Why?”

“Because there’s a good chance we’re going to be attacked tonight, and you can’t be here.”

Olivia blinked and stared at Beck when he told her that. “Who’s coming? Markov’s men?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Olivia hadn’t planned on being taken away from the computer, away from where she could track the flow of Markov’s money.

For a moment, her control slipped. “What am I supposed to do when I leave here? Where am I going? What’s going on?”

“Just keep working until about ten. See if you can get a bead on when Crane will be finishing. Once you leave, Alex will take over.”

“Okay, but about tomorrow?”

“We’ll take care of tomorrow when tomorrow comes. We’re going to take you to Nydia’s place in East Harlem for tonight so you can get some sleep and be ready for the last push.”

“Okay. My guess is Crane is going to have everything consolidated in one account by end of day tomorrow. Probably sooner. Have you figured out how to get it out of Markov’s account?”