Page 139 of Witness 8

Angel breathed slowly, bringing down his level of excitement. Settling his heart rate. He needed to be still for the shot.

Flynn stood in the lobby. It was definitely him.

Angel waited. No point releasing his shot now. Everything else was perfect. The sun was behind him. Raining down harsh light on the court building. It was like a spotlight on Flynn.

What was he doing? He was just standing there . . .

He resisted taking the shot. That was security glass. The bullet would likely penetrate it, but at this distance it would send the round tumbling. Maybe off course. Angel had seen that happen before. He couldn’t risk missing his target.

Flynn walked toward the exit doors.

Angel touched the trigger.

Then Flynn took something from his mouth and put it on a piece of paper. He stuck the paper to the glass wall of the court building and walked back into the lobby away from the doors.

What the . . .

Angel focused his sight another one degree. Zeroed on the page. There was something written there.

LOOK BEHIND YOU.

YOU SONOFABITCH

Angel’s heart seemed to stop.

Instinctively, his head swiveled around.

The curly-haired man in the wrinkled suit stood behind Angel. Five feet away. He wore ear defenders just like Angel. And just like Angel he had a weapon. A Glock pistol, pointed straight at Angel’s head.

The Sako was all the way out of the window. He couldn’t bring the weapon inside and swing it around. Not before the disheveled man pulled the trigger.

The man in the wrinkled suit said nothing.

The clock-tower bell rang.

The muzzle of the Glock flashed.

Angel suddenly couldn’t see, but he was aware that his body was falling to the floor. His vision cleared, but only just.

Blood in his eyes.

He was on the floor. Looking at his ear defenders, which had rolled off his head. He could see the man’s dirty shoes walk toward him and stop right in front of his face.

The muzzle flashed.

The bell rang.

Angel didn’t hear it.

68

Eddie

I got the text from Jimmy with the meet location.

It was to be held in a garage on the corner of 43rdStreet and Berrian Boulevard, in the Ditmars-Steinway neighborhood of Queens. I knew the area well. Any criminal defense attorney does.

Not far from 43rdStreet is the visitors’ center for Rikers Island, where you board a transport bus to take you across the Rikers Island Bridge over Bowery Bay to New York’s largest jail. I’d visited clients there many times. It’s the ass end of Ditmars-Steinway, a hip neighborhood that gave the world Steinway pianos and had been home to Telly Savalas and Tony Bennett.