“Give me a pole,” she said.
A young fireman handed her a long pole with a rubber grip that was normally used to move fallen power lines. She approached the blazing garage door with caution. When she was 10 feet away, she used the pole to retrieve the card.
“What did you find?” asked Mintz.
“He’s inside.” Alex handed him Bobby’s driver’s license and broke into a run.
“Where’re you going? Alex!”
Alex climbed into Mintz’s car and circled the fire engines, navigating a path through them until the Ford sat at the head of the driveway. The fire chief pounded on her window and yelled for her to move the car away. She ignored him. She hit the horn three times, then floored it, driving the Ford straight through the garage door, sending flaming wood and cinders in all directions.
Bobby crouched in the center of the garage, fire licking at him from the ceiling. There was a snapping sound and a timber fell from the roof and landed on the car’s hood. Bobby opened the passenger door and got in. Alex threw the car into reverse. Her eye fell on another body, this one prone and motionless, a crust of blood forming a halo around its head. “Sully?”
“Dead.”
A second timber fell, striking the car. Alex reversed through the flames. In seconds they were in the driveway, safe. Bobby pointed to her face. “Your eye,” he said. “What happened?”
“The job. It’s nothing.” Alex looked at the bloody towel wrapping his hand. “What did they do to you?”
“Asked me some questions. I told them what they already knew. Look, we have to get out of here. He’s going after Mike.”
“Slow down. Who’s Mike?”
“Michael Grillo. A PI who does some work for me. I hired him to find Palantir. Paul Lawrence Tiernan. That’s his name. I mean, Palantir’s name. Grillo sent a text saying he’d found him and had the report. Reventlow’s going there now.”
“Septimus Reventlow? Where?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t be too far. He said he’d be back.”
Alex called over Barry Mintz and gave him Palantir’s name. “Look for an address in the tristate area.”
“Right away,” said Mintz.
Alex took the swathed hand and unwrapped the towel. “Oh, Bobby.”
“Looks worse than it is.” Emotion overcame him, and he sobbed. He banged his good fist on the dashboard. “The bastard,” he said, gathering himself. “He didn’t even blink an eye. He liked doing it.”
“Who did this, Bobby? Was it Reventlow?”
“Septimus Reventlow and his brother Daniel. Just so you know, Reventlow isn’t their last name. It’s Lee. They’re from China.”
Alex couldn’t take her eyes from her ex-husband’s ruined fingers. Three were missing fingernails, and the flesh underneath hung in tatters. As gently as she could manage, she replaced the towel. Bobby winced but said nothing. He was in shock.
“Calm down,” she said. “You can tell me what happened in a second. Right now, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”
Astor got out of the car. Marv Shank hit him like a linebacker coming on an all-out blitz, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tight.
“Easy, Marv.”
“Sorry.” Shank released him and Astor saw that he was crying, too. “If you want a friend…”
“Buy a dog,” they said in unison.
“Had me worried,” said Astor. “For a minute there, I thought you were getting soft on me.”
“Thought you had a heartbeat.”
“Never.”
Astor hugged Shank, then said he needed to talk to Alex. “Sure thing,” said Shank.
Astor walked to the end of the drive with Alex. He told her about everything that had happened since she had left. She, in turn, related her discovery that her investigation into the arms cache at Windermere was in fact linked to his father’s death. Sadly, she had no information about Reventlow’s and Salt’s ultimate target.
“And they lit the fire to burn you to death?” asked Alex.
“I lit it myself. I figured it was the only way I could get out. I thought if someone saw the flames, they’d call the fire department and that would be that. Things got a little out of control.”
“How did you do it?”
“There was a lawn mower in the garage that had a little gasoline in the tank. I looked around and found some Hornet Coils and a box of Ohio Blue Tips. I piled some dry leaves and tinder that Sully had put in the trash on top to get the fire going. I think I may have put a little too much.”
Barry Mintz jogged over to them. “715 West 44th Street,” he said. “Paul Lawrence Tiernan’s address.”