Carney pulled back. ‘Keep walking, goats,’ he commanded. Jeb and the other eleven hostages started crawling towards the stairs.

Harper was at the far door of the exhibition room when he heard Carney talking and shouting. He then heard a woman’s voice and realized that it was Denise. He could see the poor hostages, all stripped and tied with wire. Carney had lost his mind. He was going to go out in a blaze of hatred. There was no time to wait.

Harper saw the detonator in Carney’s hand. Any trigger and Carney could blow them all to pieces. The security guard raised the thumb on his fist and raised his eyebrow. It was enough. Harper got it. The explosion was a single movement of his thumb.

Down below, on the marble floor, Harper could hear the sound of boots. Lots of boots. The cops were coming up the stairs. At this point, that was bad news. Carney would blow them all up.

Harper pushed off his shoes and started to move across the floor of the exhibition room, his Glock held out ready to take a headshot. Denise saw him move. She understood. ‘Hey, Carney, you know what Lucy said in the ambulance?’

Carney turned. ‘What did she say?’

‘She said she thinks you’re right.’

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t understand why you took her. She’s not a Jew.’

‘Because she knows I am,’ he said. ‘I made that mistake in school, I made that mistake with Lucy. You tell someone you’re a Jew and they shit all over you.’

‘Damn right, they do,’ said Denise.

Harper was five feet from Carney. His gun was aimed at his head. Carney caught one of the hostages glancing behind him and Harper saw him tense. A boxer knows muscles — and Harper had boxed for years. He knew what muscles did when they sensed danger, when they were about to move. And Harper saw Carney’s right arm and shoulder flinch ever so slightly. The hand crease, the finger move.

Carney had just about begun to turn his head. Harper had the start on him and lowered his gun. He had to get the cell phone, but couldn’t afford a struggle. In a struggle, everyone was dead. Even with a headshot, the thumb could press the button.

Harper moved in tight and pulled the trigger. The nozzle of his Glock was thirty centimeters from Carney’s elbow and the bullet ripped the joint to pieces. Carney’s body froze. Enough time for Harper’s right hand to grab Carney and pull his thumb from the detonator.

The two of them slumped to the floor. Harper’s left hand reached out towards Carney’s right hand. Carney’s arm was limp but his hand was still hard-gripped around the cell phone.

Denise Levene watched in stunned awe. She didn’t move. Her mouth just opened wide.

The room went silent. They were all waiting for the blast. Harper’s right hand was firmly around Carney’s thumb. Harper’s left hand slowly prized the cell phone, finger by finger, from Carney’s grip.

Harper suddenly realized he needed to breathe. He’d been holding his breath the whole time he’d walked across the room. Maybe two whole minutes. He breathed in deeply, took Carney’s other hand and crushed it with his boot until the Luger dropped. Harper grabbed it and rolled away from Carney with the gun. He held up the cell phone.

He looked at Jeb. ‘It’s okay. Keep calm. I got it. Denise, untie these people.’

Harper checked Carney and cuffed him. They could deal with him later. Denise and Harper moved across to the hostages. Behind them, Aaron Goldenberg reached the top of the stairs. He could see Jack Carney lying on the ground. All he could feel was anger and pain. He wanted this man dead. He stopped and stood over Carney. ‘You know who I am?’

‘Yes,’ said Carney.

‘Where’s my daughter?’

‘She’s dead. You’re all dead.’

Aaron pointed the gun at Jack Carney’s head. ‘Then I’m going to kill you.’

‘Then do it, Jew.’

Denise turned and saw the gun rise and tremble. She called out, ‘Aaron, stop, don’t do it! Don’t ruin this now!’

‘After what he’s done,’ said Aaron, ‘why shouldn’t I kill him?’

Aaron’s hand was shaking. His finger tightened around the trigger.

Denise was next to him now. ‘Aaron — we got Abby. She’s alive. Abby’s alive. Don’t throw it away now. She’s okay. I mean it — I’ve seen her.’

Aaron Goldenberg seemed not to hear. Then his head turned. He looked at Denise. ‘Where is she?’

‘Brooklyn Memorial.’

Aaron Goldenberg dropped the gun and ran towards the stairs.

Epilogue

Crown Heights, Brooklyn

March 15, 2.29 p.m.

Harper rested on a bench next to a paramedic. There wasn’t anything wrong with him physically, but he was shaken. All those dead and dying bomb victims, and then the killer’s capacity for more. It was only beginning to sink in. He stared around him and tried to remember what he had felt as he watched the cops hustle Carney into a police truck and slam the door.

He felt good. That was it.

He looked at Denise. He was holding her hand as they sat in silence and stared at the scene.

Denise was still pumping from the adrenalin rush. ‘We got him,’ she said. ‘We nailed him. This feels good.’

‘You are something else,’ Harper said. ‘I don’t know how you do it, but you do it. You nailed him, Denise. You.’

‘We nailed him, Tom. We’re a team, right?’

‘The best,’ said Harper. ‘How did Aaron sound?’

‘Like a man waking up from a nightmare into paradise. They’re both going to be okay.’

‘He saw her?’

‘Yeah, he saw her. He’s dancing on air. He said they just hugged for the first hour. Just hugged and cried.’ Denise paused. ‘She wasn’t… the doctor told him that Carney hadn’t touched her. It’s good to know. It’ll make the recovery easier. Abby’s mother is on the way over now.’

‘He was attracted to her, right? That’s why he took her, isn’t it?’

‘Partly. She was similar to Lucy, but yeah, he desired her and he wanted to control it. Actually, he wanted to destroy it, as if he could destroy his lust by destroying the object of his lust. It’s a crazy case.’

‘People try to destroy love, right, because love makes them feel weak. It’s similar, isn’t it?’

Denise looked across the street, the carnage still in evidence everywhere. ‘I think you’re right. He loved Lucy in some way, but I guess whatever she did, he’d never felt loved, so the brutality and control started up.’

‘How did he keep it hidden for so long?’

‘Working Hate Crime, I suppose. Finding a job where he was meeting sickos like himself every day and seeing punishment every day. Maybe that’s what kept him straight for so long.’

‘You think he might’ve been doing this a lot longer if he wasn’t a cop?’

‘I think he might have cracked earlier, yeah,’ said Denise.

‘We got some details from his lock-up. I’ve just been on to Garcia. They found his boots. He didn’t ditch them. All cut up with wire. They also got some information on his case-files.’

‘What did they find?’ asked Denise.

‘He had been letting Section 88 off the hook for years, allowing them to terrorize the community while offering up half-baked investigations. He liked to meet the victims. To see the aftermath, the Jewish community in tears, in fear. Section 88 were like his own attack hounds. He let them run the streets of Brooklyn and walked after them, free of any suspicion, looking at the pain they caused.’

‘And the killings?’ asked Denise.

‘Section 88 weren’t killers. He did it all himself. He even set up that lowlife doing time for Esther Haeber’s murder. That’s going to have to be looked at again.’

‘What about Heming?’

‘Heming owed Carney, I guess, for letting his team roam the streets. Carney used him to get him barbed wire and trucks. He must’ve always figured that if we started to link the killings, then Section 88 would be the prime suspect.’

‘They were for a time. He read it all like a pro.’