Killer Girls Page 4

  Marco leaned nonchalantly on the outside wall and smoked a cigarette. He smiled at her.

  ‘You must have guessed one has a most panoramic view of Manhattan from here. Especially at night when it is almost dreamlike, looking at all the sea of lights from the skyscrapers.’

  6

  ‘Someone must have convinced Old Barns that his grandson is no longer alive,’ said Borges while she recorded her thoughts through voice capture on her Smartphone. ‘That’s the only logical explanation for Berger’s murder. That old gangster would not touch a hair of the kidnapper if young Adrian still lived. Once dead, the old crime boss would hit out blindly on all sides.’

  Jablonski shook his head.

  ‘I won’t believe the baby is dead before we receive confirmation from our colleagues in Europe. According to our latest information, it is far from certain that the boy is still held in Germany. They think that Adrian has been moved to Belgium in the meantime.’

  Borges frowned

  ‘A maneuver to confuse the police – or the mob? I’d prefer to think the baby is still alive. You know how I hate child murders. Well, as always, it appears as if Old Barns has got a source that seems reliable to him. … The killer girl on the other hand could be convinced that Adrian is still alive. That would be the only reason why the German woman is not dead yet. She hopes this Kea Kuhn will reveal where the baby is being held.’

  ‘And if she knows nothing?’

  ‘Then she has got a problem. Personally, I don’t care much about her fate. Whoever is involved in the dirty kidnapping of a child can’t count on my commiseration. But professionally, we can only hope Kuhn knows where Adrian is being held.’

  ‘In any case, we had better find her before that mad woman tortures her to death,’ Jablonski suggested.

  ‘Don’t you think I know that as well as you?’ Borges snapped. A little calmer she added: ‘At last you admit that she is a killer.’

  The heavyset man grinned.

  ‘Of course. I know only too well that you want to be right. And usually you are.’

  That discussion between the two FBI specialists for child abductions took place in the blood-sodden luxury apartment which Thomas ‘Tom’ Berger had rented.

  Soon after they got company. A team of investigators arrived as well as a number of cops from the local station, together with the murder squad of the New York Police Department. The latter was purely present as matter of procedure since the murder was evidently a part of the investigation by the FBI, who would be in charge of the case.

  ‘We’re not exactly sorry to let you handle this case,' said a gray-haired detective Sergeant to Jablonski. ‘We’ve got enough problems of our own.’

  ‘No big surprise to me.’

  Borges stared out the window, lost in thought. She still failed to see how the kidnapping had taken place. The Barns-Clan had a great many enemies and were aware of it. That meant, the child and Jim Barns, as well as his wife Valerie, would have been guarded by a number of gorillas.

  And yet, the child had been abducted in the middle of Berlin.

  Borges found it strange that the parents had reported the kidnapping to the German police. That would have been normal for ordinary citizen, but not from a family member of a long-established mobster clan. Such people settled their problems usually in their own fashion, with all necessary force and consequences.

  Something did not ring quite true with the whole story, not at all.

  Jablonski’s voice intruded into her thoughts.

  ‘Do you want to return to the Federal Plaza or carry on dreaming over a late breakfast at Tiffany’s?’

  ‘Have I told you, you're not very funny, Chuck.’

  ‘About twenty times a day, I guess.’

  They took their leave from the investigating team that had already started its work. The coroner had also arrived at the scene. There was little doubt over the cause of death of all three people, but still hope of further information.

  As soon as Borges and Jablonski had reached the FBI Field Office, New York, they started a computer search at once. Thanks to the cooperation with the NYPD they could check the results of all traffic cameras of the metropolis.

  Luckily, they had only a small time-window to consider to identify the escape route of the killer. Jablonski at first scanned the surveillance cameras of the six blocks closest to the murder scene.

  For a layman, the streams of traffic on the broad avenues and boulevards were confusing. But the experienced officers knew what they were looking for.

  Borges soon pointed at the monitor.

  ‘What do you think of that green Chevy? It seems to have changed lanes more than normal.’

  ‘The old banger that left the scene via Fifth Avenue going south? Could be a country hillbilly or someone with a faulty navigation device?’

  His female partner shook her head.

  ‘That’s what I also thought at first. But the car has a New York license plate.’

  ‘Can you zoom in, Lenita?’

  ‘Yes, the Chevy had to stop on the corner of Eighth Stree for a red light. I … oh, damn it!’

  She whistled softly through her teeth, filled with the excitement of the hunt.

  ‘Got something?’ Jablonski asked.

  ‘Could be. The Chevy was registered as stolen in Queens just three days ago. It might fill the bill, don’t you think? If I turned up to kill someone, it wouldn’t be in my own rusty heap to carry out the job.’

  ‘So they’re looking for the old rust heap already?’

  ‘Nothing escapes you, Chuck. But we can’t hope that some tired team in a squad car had a bright moment and trailed the car. I’d like to know where the driver is going.’

  ‘The direction seems clear enough – I bet it is heading for Brooklyn Bridge or Manhattan Bridge.’

  His guess soon proved right.

  The agents widened their field of surveillance and scanned the bridge cameras.

  ‘We need a close-up of the driver’s face.’ Borges mumbled. ‘Then the identification software might be able to tell us more.’

  ‘Your wish is my command.’ Her partner said with obvious delight. ‘Look, what do you make of this picture?’

  Jablonski had enlarged the image and transferred it to Borges’ PC. She frowned.

  ‘Pretty smudgy, but I doubt we’ll get anything of better quality.’

  She switched to face recognition.

  Jablonski rose and left the room to return a little later with two styrofoam cups of coffee.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Borges when he placed one of the cups before her. ‘Who, do you think, might have an interest in convincing Old Barns of the death of his grandson?’

  ‘Anyone who wants to break the old gangster’s heart,’ Jablonski guessed. ‘With his stubby fingers in all sorts of pies, the old bastard has a lot going for him, as you well know. The Yakuza would certainly be happy enough to cause him a personal low blow. And the Triads are close behind.’

  Borges did not hide her skepticism.

  ‘The kidnapping occurred in Berlin. Are they established there?’

  ‘Where not?’ Jablonski replied, slurping his coffee with obvious delight. ‘But it was Rossini’s outfit that managed the kidnapping.’

  ‘I know that,’ Borges replied ruffled. ‘And this Tom Berger was only an errand boy. Although I must admit, his apartment was pretty impressive for his standing.’

  ‘Paid for, no doubt, by Rossini.’ Her colleague reminded her. ’And since Berger is now dead, he won’t be able to enjoy his dream pad anymore. If you ask me, I think the Asians got wind of the kidnapping through a dark channel. The press hounds haven’t yet heard about Adrian’s abduction. At least, that’s what I hope. And whether the Yakuza or Triads are behind it, that doesn’t matter much anymore. Both outfits have an interest to push Old Barns out of the market. It has been rumored that the old man has a bad heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if news of his grandsons death does for the old gangster, whether or not t
he child has actually been killed.’

  Borges raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You mean, we might have an underworld war coming?’

  ‘Not directly. A war needs two parties, opposing each other. Who will lead the Irish if Old Barns bites the dust? His son Jim is a weakling. Okay, there are two or three lieutenants who would like to take over. But they will in all likelihood kill each other and someone else picks up the pieces. And before we get to that stage, we might well find an Asian sitting on the underworld throne of Manhattan.’

  The female agent hat listened with only one ear to the predictions of her partner. While the face recognition program still worked, she had opened another one, plowing through the profiles of a few hundred female delinquents.

  ‘The usage of throwing knives looks fairly professional to me.’ She mumbled.

  At this moment an acoustic signal sounded.

  Jablonski sauntered to his colleague.

  ‘Found something?’

  Borges nodded.

  ‘Face recognition identifies the woman in the Chevy with ninety-five percent probability as a certain Lucia Lezzi, twice convicted of grievous bodily harm and violence against her arrest. There is only one issue here.’

  ‘Which is?’ Jablonski asked.

  ‘Lucia Lezzi is supposed to be dead.’

  7

  Kea started to tremble when Mario gently laid his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said softly. ’I will now tell you a story so you will understand a little better. Would you like that?’

  She shuddered. Actually, she wanted to run and hide somewhere, where no one would ever find her. Not Mario, nor his damned sister. But right now, she had no other choice than to go along with the dangerous game.

  ‘There is a certain rivalry between Lucia and Valeria, the mother of little Adrian.’ Mario began. ‘You know something of my sister. She can be very dominant. Sometimes she acted as if the child was hers. I even believe she loved Adrian as if he was her own flesh and blood. --- Anyway, that was the reason why Valeria and Jim left for Europe without Lucia. My sister went mad about it.’

  I can imagine, Kea thought.

  Mario continued. ‘Their first stop of the trip to Europe was Berlin. I don’t know the details, but Rossini ordered one of Jim’s bodyguards to be killed. The poor guy was probably in charge the security of the child. Since then, Adrian has been missing. That was two weeks ago.’

  He paused.

  ‘A … and there is no news of the child?’ Kea asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Mario admitted.

  She thought of the comforter she had smuggled for Tom into the country. If her friend and lover had been innocent --- why had he shown no wish for the dummy to be found in his possession? She thought of the time when Tom had first told her of his plans to emigrate to America.

  That was exactly fourteen days ago.

  Could it be a coincidence?

  Kea’s family and friends had thought her mad to suddenly give up her previous life and career and follow this man to a foreign land.

  Mario turned his head and looked searchingly at Kea.

  ‘Is everything alright with you? You’ve gone so pale.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She lied ‘The air out here is so … pleasant.’

  At least the last sentence was true. Although carrying the occasional smell of oil and petrol fumes, the breeze spread an unmistakable tang of sea to remind her how close they were to the Atlantic.

  ‘Here in the States, there is some kind of secret network for child kidnappings.’ Mario started to explain. ‘One of the men pulling the strings is called Anselmo Rossini. The man is like a ghost. Although I’m well acquainted with the underworld, I haven't been able to uncover any trace of him or find his business associates. I didn’t know until a short time ago that Rossini has a number of customers in Europe. It just proves you never learn everything.’

  Kea tried to digest the offered information.

  ‘Are you sure that this Rossini is behind the kidnapping?’

  ‘One hundred percent, since he used an intermediary to contact Old Barns. The demand was unmistakable. Adrian’s grandfather was to raise five million Dollars in cash if he wanted to see the baby again. To collect the money, Rossini was to send a certain Tom Berger from Germany.’

  Kea’s mind refused steadfastly to accept the part that the man she had intended to marry should have played a vital part in the whole dirty business. She felt obliged to defend her dead lover.

  ‘That’s nonsense!’ She called out angrily. ‘ If this Rossini has contacts everywhere in America, why would he send for an accomplice to come from Europe?’

  ‘Not a bad objection,’ Mario agreed friendly. ‘Old Barns is a hard nut, I have to tell you. He demanded solid evidence that the poor lad was in Rossini’s power. It seems that a number of young children have disappeared in Berlin, presumably to order. Therefore, it was equally possible that Adrian had been taken by some unknown child traffickers. Only one thing was certain. Old Barns’ grandson had disappeared. Thus, Rossini had to provide proof that he was in possession of Adrian.’

  ‘The dummy!’ Kea gasped.

  ‘Dummy?’ Mario frowned.

  ‘Oh, I think you call it a comforter. The Brits call it a dummy and that’s what I learned at school. Lucia recognized it at once. I swear I know nothing about the whole horrible business, although I had to smuggle the thing for Tom through customs and Tom never told me why.’

  Her eyes were filled with tears. And while she wept, she remembered the reasons for it. She cried for Tom although he had lied to her. Also, she had been used in the whole dirty business, of which she had known nothing. Was the deception the only reason why Tom had asked her to join him in the USA, a way to carry the dummy on her person without too many questions being asked? Such an object in the luggage of a woman attracted less attention than in the possession of an unaccompanied man. And the customs officer had readily accepted her improvised story of a stillborn child.

  And finally Kea shed tears over her own fate. She doubted that Mario would kill her, but Lucia was another matter. Her fury at Tom’s apartment had shown clearly that the life of someone in her way meant nothing to her.

  Mario gently stroked her hair. But there was nothing demanding in his touch. Kea felt like a cat being fondled by its owner rather than a sex doll. And somehow his touch felt comforting.

  But still she could not trust him either.

  ‘The business, a ransom in exchange for the child, should have gone smoothly.’ He continued his explanations. ‘Although some German gangster insisted that Adrian was long dead. I don’t know who that informant was. All that matters now is that Old Barns believes the story. That was the reason why he sent his killers to seek revenge. Your friend was the first in the line of fire. Now I suspect, Old Barns will leave no stone unturned to smash Rossini and all of his organization.’

  ‘And Lucia saved me because she does not believe Adrian is dead?’

  Mario answered the question with a nod.

  ‘She wants to find out where the child is hidden.’

  ‘But how would I know that!’ It seemed to her as if her death sentence had been signed. Mario’s sister was judge and executioner in one person. The only reason why she had not yet suffered a worse fate was due to the intervention of her brother. But once she returned, Kea’s breathing space would narrow down by the minute. And since she had no idea where the baby might be held – if it still lived – the inevitable would surely follow: her death.

  Strangely, the thought was easier to bear than she had thought possible. She almost wanted to see it all over. In retrospect, she almost laughed about her wish to end her life. Lucia would do just that with greater efficiency and ruthlessness than Kea could muster.

  ‘I will talk to my sister,’ Mario promised calmingly. ‘She might act rough and tough, but in reality she has a kind heart. Your story rings true, this Tom needed a woman by his side to avoid any
attention drawn to him. Why should he have told you of his plans?’

  ‘Just so. I am nothing but a dumb blonde. A distraction for the customs officer.’ Kea replied with self-deprecation.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ He corrected her. ‘In a complex operation like a high-carat child kidnapping, the number of knowing people involved must be kept at a minimum. It would have been too risky to tell you the truth.’

  ‘It sounds as if you have experience in such matters.’

  Mario laughed.

  ‘I assure you, I have never kidnapped a child, if that is what you mean to say. I don’t deny that I am a criminal. And … damn!’

  She noticed he had turned his head to the left and followed his example having to stand on tiptoes to glance past his shoulder.

  Beyond the hole-riddled wire fence that had secured the factory once, a black and white police car had appeared, followed by a second one. The first car stopped. Then a third – a van with blackened windows – joined the other two.

  ‘So we got company. How would you like a little boat trip? I’ll show you the best views of New York. Come on!’

  Before she could protest, he pulled her to a steep set of steps on the narrow side of the factory ground. They led down to a rickety wooden landing site where a new and expensive-looking speedboat was tied up.

  8

  There were only three people in the world who Lucia trusted. One of them was herself, the second her brother. And she had just received a phone call from the third.

  Lucia frowned as she steered the stolen Chevrolet toward the Bronx.

  Gordon was no loudmouth. It was one of his standing rituals that he never discussed important matters over the telephone. Now he had simply called Lucia to ask her to see him because he felt like he wanted her company.

  That was unlikely. He would never dare to ask her to leave her hiding place without a very good reason.

  She kept looking up at the rear-view mirror and drove at a normal speed that aroused no suspicion. Not quite like a nun from the Bible Belt, but neither in the kamikaze attitude of show-offs with gold chains around their necks. Mediocrity was her best security.