Roberta laughed. “Yeah, just about.” She turned serious. She sat down on the desk, then looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear us talk. “The whole story of how you found the phone in Bobby’s apartment could be tricky if it ever goes to court.”
“I don’t know how to fix that.”
Roberta shrugged. “We’ll see what happens. I doubt anyone wants to expose the dirty secrets you discovered. Someone will offer Bobby a good deal. He’ll take it. No one in DC will give you a second thought. Even if you did commit an outright burglary.” Roberta looked around the room again, then turned back to me. “C’mon, Mike, what else is bothering you?”
It’s hard to keep something from a friend, especially if that friend is an experienced investigator. I said, “I missed my train. I won’t make it to Manhattan for Trent’s ceremony with the mayor.”
Roberta smiled. “Not being in the same room with the New York mayor is usually a good thing. He’s so full of hot air it’s a wonder Gracie Mansion doesn’t float away.”
I gave her a weak smile. She probably didn’t realize what seeing the ceremony meant to me. I still didn’t have the guts to call Mary Catherine and tell her I wouldn’t be back until after nine.
Roberta smiled.
I had to say, “What?”
“I have an idea.”
Thirty minutes later, Roberta dropped me off at a small fixed-base operation on the perimeter of Reagan National Airport. This was where the Department of Justice kept most of its air assets. Roberta had used her influence to delay a flight to New York on a government Gulfstream jet. She somehow got me on the passenger list. I was on board with two witnesses for a mob trial and three US marshals.
We stood in front of the small field-operations office at the airport to say our good-byes. I gave her a huge hug and a kiss good-bye. She’d done so much for me I couldn’t even put it in words.
I waited with the small group of passengers to board the plane. The TV behind the courtesy counter was broadcasting the local news. The only story anyone was talking about was the arrest of Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg. I was surprised there hadn’t even been any accusation of the charges being politically motivated. It seemed that a lot of people in DC knew about the Steinbergs’ personal habits. I watched to the end, but there was no mention of Emily. I wondered if anyone might link Bobby’s arrest with Baltimore’s arrest of Rhea.
I sat next to a tall female deputy US marshal. She turned to me and asked, “You work for DOJ?”
“NYPD.” That was enough to earn an entire trip without another word. I didn’t really care.
I was going home.
Chapter 104
After the Department of Justice plane landed at JFK Airport, I grabbed a cab and held up a fifty to the glass partition. “Get me to City Hall by 6:30 and this is yours on top of the fare.” I looked at the license and the smiling face of the young Israeli driver. “Does that sound like a deal, Yossi?”
The young man with a mop of dark hair smiled. “That’s easy. I feel bad taking your money.”
I liked that kind of confidence. I wished my nerves were as steady as Yossi’s confidence. The terror I felt on the ride would be worth it if we made it to City Hall alive. Yossi squeezed between a step van and a giant old-school Cadillac. I tried not to make a sound, but a yelp slipped out of me.
Yossi just chuckled. He skidded to a stop outside City Hall right on time. I’d have to run like Usain Bolt to make the ceremony. I gave Yossi an additional fifty to drop my bag at my apartment building. I had a feel for the young man and thought he was trustworthy enough. Just in case, I wrote my address on the back of one of my business cards. He glanced at the card, then looked up at me. “I guessed you were a newscaster, not a cop. I guarantee your bag will be there.”
I dashed past some tourists taking photographs in front of City Hall. I was moving so fast I had to grab the gatepost to make my turn toward the front door. I checked my watch. I hoped the ceremony ran on the usual city schedule: about ten minutes late.
I was six minutes past the start time—yikes. I could feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I knew it had to be Mary Catherine. I don’t know if it was the ride or being late, but my stomach gurgled. This was more nerve-racking than most police work I did.
I burst through the front door of City Hall. The security guard’s head popped up. Probably the first action he’d seen in months.
I said, “Ceremony with the mayor?”
The older African American man recognized a fellow father doing what he could to make a kid’s event. He smiled and pointed down the hallway to the left. I nodded my thanks and raced away.