Manny had only one weapon. He’d substituted his Charter Arms Bulldog for a long-barrel .38 revolver. He had one shot to make. The target would be about twenty-five, thirty feet away, which was why he needed the range of the long-barrel revolver.

Once he made the shot, he could do the real damage he intended, with an item sitting ten feet from where he stood, carefully placed on the sidewalk.

*   *   *

Demarco Jones was also out front on Conover, but nobody quite knew where. Beck had left it up to him to pick his spot.

*   *   *

Beck stood motionless, hunched against the cold, waiting. Waiting for the call from Walter Pearce. If Walter failed to come through with the NYPD, Beck didn’t see much chance of avoiding a bloodbath. He hated depending on a disgruntled retired cop. He hated even more depending on cops intent on arresting him. But he had little choice. They were five against how many? Fifteen? Twenty? Maybe more. He checked his watch in the dim ambient light of the dead winter night.

One way or another, it would be over soon.

66

Two things convinced Walter Pearce to follow Beck’s plan.

The additional twenty-thousand dollars Beck promised him. And the absolute certainty that Frederick Milstein was going to screw him.

He figured the fastest way to make things work would be to go directly to the 76th Precinct in Brooklyn. He was certain that any police action against Beck would launch from there. It was a little after one in the morning when he walked through the double doors that led into the familiar sights and sounds of an NYPD neighborhood precinct. He presented his credentials to the desk sergeant, and did his best to convince him that he needed to see whoever was in charge of the detail heading out to serve warrants in Red Hook.

Naturally, the sergeant wanted to know more about it. Pearce told him, “Sarge, I’ll be happy for you to hear the details, but I’ve only got time to tell it once. So please get whoever is in charge of this thing down here as soon as you can. Bottom line, I’ve got information that could prevent some good cops from getting hurt tonight.”

Walter watched the sergeant think it over. He seemed a bit young to have the job. Pearce watched him check his credentials one more time, thinking over what Pearce had said. Walter knew better than to say anything more to convince him. After about thirty seconds, the young sergeant picked up the phone.

It took a full fifteen minutes for Jeffrey Esposito to appear. His opening comment was, “Who are you, and how do you know about my warrants for these guys in Red Hook?”

Walter began by apologizing for the intrusion.

“Sorry to get into the middle of this thing, but I think I can help you. I know what’s going on because I’m the one who went to the brass at One PP and got this whole thing going.”

“What thing?”

“Serving arrest warrants on James Beck and Ciro Baldassare.”

The fact that Walter knew their names told Esposito he should listen to what this man had to say.

“Go ahead.”

“It was my boss that those two assaulted. Fellow named Milstein. His law firm has connections with somebody who had enough juice to put pressure on One PP.”

“I’m listening.”

“You should know that Beck and Baldassare are not going to go quietly. They are part of a bigger crew. I’ve been looking into them. It’s almost certain a good number of that crew will be at that location tonight.”

“Why didn’t you tell that to the brass?”

“I did. Spoke to a chief called Waldron, but he wasn’t in the mood to take advice from me, if you know what I mean. I started worrying that information might not filter down to you. All I’m sayin’ is, if you have to serve those warrants tonight, and it seems like you do, go out there with your heads up and ready.”

“For what, exactly?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just know you could be facing more than two men and a lot of them armed. Go with as many men as you can get.”

“Great, and how the fuck am I going to get that kind of backup at one o’clock in the morning?”

Walter knew this was the crucial part. He couldn’t tell Esposito what to do. But he had to give him enough direction to cover what Beck had asked.

“Well, I was you, I’d grab what you can. Don’t go charging into anything. Call a ten-thirteen as soon as you get there. Call it hard and loud. Wait until every cop in the area shows up before you go in.”

“Christ.”

“If you go in with enough manpower, it’ll be worth it. You’ll get more than just the two assholes on your warrants. If you go in aware, this could be very good for you.”

“Good for me? How?”

“You’ll take down more than just those two. A lot more. And the brass will be glad you did. These are bad people.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Trust me, I know,” said Walter. “I don’t have time to explain everything, but I’m trying to help you.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason a bunch of cops get hurt out there tonight. I’m off the force, but I’m working in private security. I brought this thing to that bureau chief, so my name’s all over this. Somebody gets hurt out there tonight, it won’t go good for me. You can see that.”

“So who are you trying to help here? You, or me?”

“Both.”

Esposito nodded. It made sense, but it didn’t make him happy,

“And I’m supposed to trust you, some guy I don’t know from Adam.”

“If you had more time, you could check me out. I’d come up good.”

Walter watched Esposito struggling with what he had been told. Walter made his final pitch. “It’s too late to call it off. The brass will murder you. All I’m saying is, call for backup before you go in. What’s the downside?”

“Me looking like an asshole.”

Walter was about to tell Esposito how bad he’d look if he didn’t listen to him, but he held back. Instead, he said, “Do what you think is best.”

It would have to do. He turned and walked out of the precinct. The last thing he had to do was give Beck the word when the cops headed out, but he knew he couldn’t do much more than that. He had no idea if the precinct detective was going to take his advice.

67

Beck checked his watch. Five minutes to two. He’d received Ricky’s last call twenty minutes ago. He figured with no traffic it would take about a half hour to drive from Brighton Beach to Red Hook. He called Willie Reese and told him to be on the lookout for two SUVs, as well as cops coming into the neighborhood. He’d told Willie all he needed was a heads-up, nothing more.

Beck told him again, “Let me know what you see, but stay out of sight, man. Seriously. Don’t put yourself anywhere around this.”

“I’m up in the fuckin’ projects, dude. Nobody gonna see me, but I’ll tell you right now, I see them.”

“Who? What?”

“Two black SUVs comin’ down Lorraine, heading your way.”

“Can you spot any cops anywhere?”

“Nah. No five-oh anywhere I can see. Got some boys over by all the Hamilton Street crossings and ain’t heard any word from them about cops.”

“Okay, thanks. Stay where you are.”

“I hear you, boss, but I got one request.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let any dumb-ass motherfuckers bust up my window.”

Beck smiled. “I’ll do what I can.”

And then Beck heard the far-off sound of a car engine breaking the silence of the dead winter night. The sound seemed to be coming his way, slowly.

“I think I hear ’em.”

Beck’s phone signaled another incoming call. Shit.

“Take care, Willie.”

He tried to drop the call to Reese and catch the second one. He ended up with only a dial tone. “Goddammit.”

Had to be Pearce. But what was the message? He’d made the pitch? They bought it? Didn’t buy it? Were coming? Weren’t coming? Fucking cell phones.