NYPD Red 2(87)

“We’re cops,” Gideon said. “Put the gun down. Now.”

The big man laughed. “Put the gun down? You got balls, man. How about you get on your knees, put your weapons on the floor nice and easy, slide them here, and then put your hands behind your head. You know—just like in the movies.”

Dave lowered himself to the ground and slid his gun across the room. Gideon didn’t budge. “You’re making a mistake,” he said. “We’re NYPD.”

“Well, that explains why you don’t listen. Now either get down while you still have knees to help you down, or I’ll cap one of them and let gravity do the rest. Right or left—your call.”

Gideon knelt down next to Dave. “If you think you can just walk in and rob a couple of cops,” he said, sliding his gun across the cement floor, “you’re crazy.”

He laughed. “Is that what you think? This is not a robbery.”

“Then what the hell do you call it?”

“I’d call it Judgment Day,” said the silver-haired man who stepped out from behind the wall. He had a gun in his right hand—a black Beretta 85 fitted with a five-inch suppressor. In his left was the choke pear.

“Jesus,” Dave said. “Joe Salvi.”

“And son,” Salvi said.

With that, Jojo Salvi swaggered out from behind the wall, a satin nickel version of his father’s Beretta in his hand.

“Over there,” Salvi said to Jojo. “Opposite Tommy Boy.”

Jojo took his position, and the three men stood there in silence—an ominous triangle of guns and muscle.

Finally, Salvi spoke. “Ingenious,” he said, holding up the choke pear. “Easy to operate, extremely effective—every smart businessman should have one. I think I’ll keep it.” He tossed the pear to Tommy Boy.

Salvi stared at them with the same dark, menacing eyes that had scanned a church filled with people at his son’s funeral. But now he had found what he was looking for. “Your partner looks confused,” he said to Gideon. “But you expected us, didn’t you, Gideon?”

Dave’s head snapped to the left. “Gideon, what is he talking about?”

Gideon stared straight ahead.

“Let me make this easy for you,” Salvi said to Dave. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a dark red Moroccan leather journal, bordered in gold filigree. “Look familiar?”

Dave couldn’t quite put the pieces together fast enough. “Where did…how…”

“Shut up, Dave,” Gideon said. “Salvi, don’t be an idiot. We’re cops. I don’t care what you think is going on, but you can pull a shitload of jail time for this. Put the gun down now, and we’ll drop the whole thing.”

“Oh, you’re cops?” Salvi said, lowering the gun and bringing his arm out to his side. “Why didn’t you say something?” He turned to Rachael O’Keefe, still chained to a pipe, her mouth sealed with duct tape. “Look, lady—the cops are here. You want to go with them?”

Rachael shook her head violently and let out a muffled scream.

“Bad news, boys,” Salvi said. “You’re striking out with the ladies. I guess nobody has any respect for cops these days. Even a damsel in—” Without warning, he brought the butt of his gun down hard against Gideon’s jaw, shattering bone, ripping flesh, and exploding capillaries.

Blood spattered across the room. Gideon doubled over but managed to stay on his knees.

Salvi turned to Dave. “I’m sorry, Detective Casey. I got distracted. Did you have a question? Oh yes, how did I get my son’s journal? Funny thing—Gideon’s mother found it and was kind enough to return it to the family. Lovely woman. Took care of most of the flower arrangements for my son’s funeral.”

Dave turned to Gideon. “Your mother? You said you burned it. Why would you keep—”

“Shut up,” Gideon said, spitting out blood and chunks of teeth.

“You knew your mother gave it back to them?”

“Of course he knew,” Salvi said.

“I just found out about it,” Gideon said. “I didn’t want you to freak out while we were in the middle of this, but I swear I was going to tell you as soon as we finished here.”

“So you spared me the fact that the Mob was gunning for me?”

Gideon looked away.

“There’s no talking to him, Dave,” Salvi said. He walked over to the video equipment. “Nice little setup you got here. You like to tape confessions? So do I. We’ve been here a while, and I think Jojo’s got the hang of it. Jojo, turn on the camera.”