Chapter 35

Chapter 35—Reginald receives and delivers Jack’s luggage

2:31 a.m., Monday, December 26

Roger reached over and grabbed the two bags, and Alex. He pulled the dying man into the van. “Reg, shut the damn door!”
He then yelled at the driver, “Get us the hell outta here. … Damn it, Reg, I don’t know what the hell is going on around here. My guy has had nothing to do with this.  We’re dealing with rank amateurs. That’s exactly what they are. Before this thing is done, we’re gonna have bodies all over the whole damn city. This makes no sense at all.”
Reginald put his fingers on the dying man’s neck, to see if there was a pulse.
“No need for that, Roger stated. “It’s always the same, lately. A double poke from behind—lungs and heart. With a damn ice pick, no doubt. What is this business coming to. Who ever used ice picks before? It’s insane.”
“Why did they hit your man?” Reginald asked.
“Good question,” Roger said. “He must have been spotted coming out of Jack’s room. Or maybe they placed a transmitter in one of Jack’s bags. Your guess is as good as mine. It’s a damn shame. Alex’s wife just had a baby—last week. … Maybe the week before. I can’t wake her up tonight—not with this news. Not tonight.”
“Roger, I’m sorry. Truly. The guy I took out today was one step away from sticking Jack—it was his second attempt. If I had not taken him out, at the very least Jack would have lost his daughter, if not his own life. If I had it to do over again, I would have done the same thing. It might have made it worse for you, but I did what I had to.”
Just at that moment Reginald spotted Jack’s taxi. “There’s Jack,” he said. “I’ve got to get him to meet us somewhere else . How about 34th and Broadway?”
Grabbing his cell he quickly called his friend.
“Jack,” Reginald said. “I’ve got your bags. I’m with a friend—a mutual friend. …We can talk about it later. Just have your taxi shoot over to 34th and Broadway. I’m in a dark van. … Great.”
Roger gave the revised instructions to his driver, and then responded to Reginald’s apology. “I’m not blaming you for this,” he said. “I know you try to avoid problems. All of us old-school guys are discriminating, if given a chance. It’s these younger guys. And the Russians in particular. They’ve lowered the bar. It’s nothing for them to destroy a train to kill the cook. It’s like they just don’t worry about collateral. As long as they hit their target, they just don’t care who else dies.”
“I thought you said we were dealing with Mossad, not the Russians?” Reginald said.
“Mossad is who your group is dealing with,” Roger said. “And they’re not nearly done yet.
But the Russians have an interest here as well. They apparently have a lot to gain, or so I’ve heard. And a lot to lose. We’re pretty sure it’s the Russians who are holding Jack’s daughter.”
“We all have a lot to lose, don’t we?” Reginald asked, trying to squeeze some information out of his old friend.
“I suppose you could say that,” Roger answered, careful not to be drawn too deeply into this conversation.
“Could you have the driver pull up there?” Reginald requested. “I see Jack’s taxi right behind us.” He then checked out Jack’s suitcases to be sure there was no blood on them. Finding a small blood smear on the handle of the larger bag, he grabbed a paper napkin that was in a fast food bag on the floor, and cleaned it off. Reginald looked up, as Roger had the driver pull as close to the curb as possible, three car lengths in front of Jack’s taxi.
“Rog, thanks for the help tonight,” Reginald said. “I truly appreciate it. I realize I owe my life to you. Feel free to call one in anytime. I owe you.”
Roger did not respond to Reginald’s offer. Instead, he handed Reginald a set of car keys. “Here, take these,” He said. “It’s the black Expedition parked in a loading zone just east of here on 34th—south side. Should have the four-ways flashing. … Alex isn’t going to need it any more. I think you and Jack can make good use of it.”
Reginald received the keys, and thanked Roger.
“See ya around, old friend,” Roger said. “Take care of yourself. And say ‘hi’ to my old buddy.”
“Will do,” Reginald said, jumping out of the stopped van, then reaching back to snatch Jack’s bags. As Reginald unloaded the luggage, one of the men in the van was already closing the door. Simultaneously, the driver raced the engine, and shot out into traffic.
By the time Reginald had made it back to Jack’s taxi, Jack had circled to the rear and was ordering the driver open the trunk for his luggage.
“Did you get it all?” Jack asked. “Did you get my lock?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Reginald said. “We’ve gotta get outta here, and quickly. I’ll explain after we get going,” Reginald said. “And we’re not going to need the cab. We’ve got a car—thanks to Roger Minsk.”
“Roger gave us a car? What’s going on here?” Jack asked, as he handed the driver three twenties, and told him he wouldn’t be needing him any more.
Reginald gave a cursory look around to see if he was being followed. He did not set the suitcases down, but he did wait for Jack to pay his driver. “Down 34th a bit,” he said. “Look for a black Expedition, on the south side of the street. … I’ll explain it all in a bit. Let’s find that car.”
“You don’t know whether or not you packed my mag lock?” Jack asked.
“I didn’t pack it,” Reginald said. “One of Roger’s men, a man named Alex, packed your belongings.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack said. “You didn’t go up to my room?”
“Nope,” Reginald answered, now with Jack close behind him. “Alex took care of it.”
“He got past my lock?” Jack asked.
“He did,” Reginald said, “but not without help. Roger used a linear amplifier from down on the street.”
“From the street?” Jack responded. “… It was that easy? He must have had my remote, right?”
“Right. His equipment learned the frequency, and amplified it.”
“I’m working on one that uses both RF and IR—redundant.  Jack said, snatching one of the cases from Reginald’s hand.
“Well, I’m glad that Roger was able to get his man in,” Reginald said. “The tragic thing is it cost him his life—Alex, his operative, was killed just as he was delivering your bags to us. Right on the street, with an ice pick.”
“Lunacy,” Jack said, as both men picked up their pace. “This is pure lunacy. I’ve seen more agents killed in one day than I’ve seen in the past ten years. It’s unnatural. That’s what happens when there are so many different interests represented. Everyone has his own agenda, and no one trusts the other guy. The only option that makes sense is to whack the other guy before he gets you. It’s insane.”
“There it is,” Jack said, pointing in the direction of a dark SUV fifty feet away.
Reginald hit the unlock button on the remote that was attached to the key Roger had given him. They deposited Jack’s bags in the rear seat.
“Here,” Reginald said, tossing the keys to Jack. “You drive.”
The two men got in, and Jack switched off the four-ways.
They had not gone more than a couple blocks when Reginald spoke up. “Jack, I think we’ve got a tail.”
Jack glanced back through his mirror. “Which one?” he asked.
“Two back, same lane,” Reginald said.
“How sure are you?” Jack asked.
“Good chance,” Reginald answered. “It was pulled over behind the Expedition when we got in. Two occupants. I got a pretty good look—would bet Eastern European.”
“Russian? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Could be. But at least Old Soviet,” Reginald replied. “Shall we see if I’m right?”
Jack suddenly jerked the steering wheel to the right, turning east off 6th Avenue, and onto 38th Street. He sped a few hundred feet down the street, then hit the brakes and pulled over to a tight double park.
The car directly behind them did not follow, but the second car back did. As soon as it rounded the corner, it too pulled into a double park, and stopped. The driver obviously had spotted them.
“Stay put for a minute,” Reginald told him, as he opened his door and began rapidly walking back to the car that had been tailing them.
Immediately that car screeched its tires, pulling up to where Jack had stopped. The mystery car lowered the passenger side window, and opened fire on Jack with what appeared to be a Glock 10mm. Instinctively, Jack dove face-first onto the passenger seat. Expecting to be showered with broken glass, he threw his left hand over the back of his head. Hearing the car speed away, he quickly sat back up, seeking to get a look at the license plate. “RFT 176,” he said, reaching in and pulling out a pen and paper.
Reginald then got in and asked, “We gonna go after them?”
Jack took a long look in his rearview mirror, then turned his smiling face toward his friend. “Haven’t we had enough fun for one day?”
“Suppose you could say we did,” Reginald replied, chuckling just a bit.
Jack shoved the car in reverse, and sped back to the intersection. Even though it was a one way street, he thought it wiser to go back to Sixth Avenue, than to continue east, and perhaps run into the car that had fired on them.
“What the hell these windows made of?” Jack asked.
“Pretty cool, don’t you think?” Reginald replied. “I suppose it’s standard issue in Roger’s world.”
“That Glock didn’t even nick the glass,” Jack observed, pushing against the window.
“I’ve heard that a nine or ten won’t phase it,” Reginald said. “But an AK will. And so will a .357 or bigger, … or so I’ve heard.”
 “I think that was a ten,” Jack said. “At least that’s what the muzzle looked like to me. But, hell, even a BB gun looks pretty imposing from the business end. Still, I’m pretty sure it was a Glock 10mm.”
“Still could be Russians,” Reginald said. “They like that Glock, too.”
“Can’t tell by what they’re using,” Jack said. “All that I can say for sure is that the shooter didn’t look much like a Boy Scout.”
“What do you mean?” Reginald asked.
“Short cropped hair,” Jack answered. “Steel blue eyes. Pale blue. Dead eyes. I think Russian too.”
Jack reached Sixth Avenue, carefully backed into it, and continued northward.
“Where, exactly, are we headed?” He asked Reginald.
“I’ve got an apartment on the Island,” Reginald said. “Let’s crash there. We can figure stuff out in the morning.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack replied. “You still haven’t told me the whole story. What’s going on here? There’s got to be more to this?”
“Jack, your daughter is alive and well,” Reginald said. “I think the danger for Kate is past, at least for right now. And we are both still alive. As of this minute, life isn’t good, but it’s okay. We’ll get some sleep, and I will go over everything with you in the morning.”
Jack was not happy with Reginald’s evasive answer, but he accepted it.
When they arrived at the apartment, Reginald had Jack drive past it, and circle around the block.
“Checking for a tail?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Reginald answered. “Pull into that parking lot for a minute. Let’s turn the engine off, and just wait to see what shakes.”
Jack followed Reginald’s instructions. After a good five minutes, they decided that there was no one following them, so Jack started the car, and drove back toward the apartment.
“That’s it,” Reginald said, pointing over at a very average looking row house. “But don’t park right in front, drive down a couple numbers, and park in front of that van. I want to check it out.”
Jack pulled past the van, and backed into the parking place in front of it. Then both men got out. As Jack retrieved his luggage, Reginald circled the van. He was relieved to see that the license plate was local, and that there was a window sticker on the back promoting a local high school. Both men were comfortable thinking that they had not been followed, and that the van was not a threat, so they continued on into Reginald’s apartment. They were both totally exhausted.
What they failed to observe, as they disappeared behind the apartment door, was a rusty, blue sedan parked directly in front of Reginald’s apartment, but on the opposite side of the street. In that car were two very tough-looking men. They had crouched down while Reginald and Jack scrutinized the van.