Night Sun Page 2

  ‘We made it?’ the woman asked weakly.

  He nodded in relief, taking her handgun and putting it in the back of his waistband before reaching in to help lift her out. ‘We’re over.’

  ONE

  Almost seventy two hours earlier, inside a rehab gym at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, a blonde woman in her mid-thirties swayed as she stood up, two female physical therapists beside her with their arms braced ready to catch her. The woman had just risen from a wheelchair and was fighting to keep her balance, the muscles on her legs, hips and back trying to adjust to the unfamiliar demands on them.

  ‘You can do this, girl,’ one of the PTs said. ‘Just like last time. Your body has to relearn the movements, but it’s all there.’

  The woman closed her eyes, taking hold of their shoulders as she focused, willing her nerve endings to make connections they hadn’t needed to find in years, like searching for a signal in a desert where there was nothing but static.

  Her right foot picked up on the frequency though, and she took a tentative step forward.

  ‘Good! Again!’

  Her left did the same, and she managed another, holding onto the two therapists to steady herself as a third pushed her wheelchair behind her. Then suddenly overwhelmed, her helpers felt her strength start to give out and took hold before easing her back into the wheelchair. ‘I’m sorry,’ the woman said, covering her face as a flood of mixed emotions hit her.

  ‘It’s OK,’ one of the therapists said, rubbing her back and smiling. ‘I’d be bawling my ass off.’

  The woman smiled through her tears. ‘I just feel like I’m going to wake up and find I’m dreaming.’

  ‘You’re not, honey. So let’s try again.’

  ‘This is unreal,’ the woman’s brother, NYPD Detective Sam Archer, said on a cell phone call as he watched the physiotherapy session through a window. At thirty two years old, he was a couple of years younger than the sister he was watching learning to walk again next door, but had the same dirty blond hair and blue eyes. They’d been born to an American father and an English mother, spending most of their childhood in the UK, and shared a similar duality in their character traits which meant their occasional clashes could be spectacular. Sarah’s natural reserve could make her appear severe and slightly cold upon first meeting, but in fact that reserve hid a very sensitive, caring nature. In contrast, her younger brother was more friendly and outgoing, but both were as ferociously determined and just as resilient as the other. ‘Shep, you can’t be serious, I literally just got down here.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Archer’s investigation squad leader, Detective-Sergeant Matt Shepherd, apologized from their base in New York City. ‘I wasn’t gonna bother you but then I thought you’d want me to clue you in on this. Something’s come up.’

  ‘I haven’t seen my family in a couple of years.’ He looked at his sister taking some more steps next door, a sight he’d never thought he’d see again. She’d been in the chair for half her life. It had definitely been a trip to remember so far and he’d only been in Baltimore for less than an hour. ‘What’s so important that it can’t wait?’

  ‘We just got a call from the Prisons Bureau. It’s about Frank Lupinetti.’

  Archer had been expecting something connected to Shepherd’s six-person unit’s duties in the Counter-Terrorism Bureau which he was a part of, but the mention of that name caught him by surprise. Frank Lupinetti was a former NYPD lieutenant who’d been convicted of second-degree murder among other charges of corruption and abuse of power, and as a result had been sentenced to twenty years in federal prison. The murder charges had him accused of being partially responsible for the death of nine people, including four fellow cops and a firefighter. One of the dead was a fellow Department detective of Archer’s and Shepherd’s, who’d also been a close friend. Lupinetti had sold out three other men on the stand with him by cutting a deal; unlike him, they’d never see a sunrise outside prison walls again. ‘Something happened to him?’

  ‘Repeatedly. He’s been in general population since he went inside and other inmates have been trying to dice him up like you’d expect. Man’s gotten stabbed on four separate occasions and he had his arm sliced open pretty bad last week. What you get for being an ex-cop and a first grade asshole. And for being unable to keep his big mouth shut, knowing him.’

  ‘It’ll be all of the above,’ Archer said, remembering his run-ins with the man. ‘But what’s this got to do with us? He’s under the prison system’s care now.’

  ‘His current warden is worried about his people getting sued if Lupinetti gets killed in their facility, so they’ve secured a transfer over to the federal pen at Lewisburg, in Pennsylvania.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘USP Gatlin in Virginia. It’s in Lee County, bordering Kentucky and Tennessee.’

  ‘Yeah, I know of it. Rough place. And what he deserves. We supposed to feel sorry that he’s having a hard time in there?’

  ‘No, but here’s the shake; in his trip to the local hospital last week for his latest injury, he started claiming to prison staff who escorted him that he’s got more dirt on some influential people still in the NYPD. Heavy dirt. Wanted to talk to us about it, but refuses to say anything more until he’s shifted out of Gatlin to somewhere else.’

  ‘He’s lying.’

  ‘Maybe. But after the shitstorm when he and his friends got arrested last time, the powers-that-be here want him making it to Lewisburg in one piece. And enough people have heard him making these statements. Might look too convenient if something happens to him now.’

  In the room beside the gym where his sister was taking another couple of steps, Archer could see where Shep’s call was headed and closed his eyes. Baltimore was a lot closer to the prison in Virginia that Lupinetti was currently housed in than New York City. ‘I’ve got to be stuck on a bus with the guy throughout his transfer?’

  ‘Not a bus. With Lupinetti’s history of getting attacked, Gatlin think our man might not even make it through a group transport unscathed so they’ve got him being taken solo. A Marshals squad have agreed to run lead on the extradition.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But the Department want someone with a NYPD badge there to ensure he gets to Lewisburg alive. Franklin ran our offer of assistance past the Marshals Office, explained who you were and your link to the case; they signed off on it. Lupinetti helped murder someone we cared about, Sam. If it was one of us who died, I know Lucero would want to be there on the transport for us.’

  ‘When’s the transfer?’

  ‘10am, tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’ll need to hire a car. I took the train down here.’

  ‘I put Marquez on it too and she set out an hour ago; tell her where you are and she can come pick you up. Area around Gatlin has a few motels for visitors, so crash at one and be at the prison good and early to assist.’

  ‘The Marshals don’t mess around, Shep. Especially with cop killers. They really need us to babysit him too?’

  ‘Lupinetti’s information seems to involve some heavy hitters in the Department. If what he’s saying is true and word’s spread, any shot could be taken to stop him talking. Out there on the road would be a pretty good opportunity.’

  ‘An ambush?’

  ‘I don’t know. What I do know is, Franklin’s been told to have Lupinetti covered and kept vertical. I know you were tight with Lucero. If this shitbag is outside a prison wall, we owe it to her to have someone she’d trust making sure he stays alive to serve out every minute of his sentence. Plus we want to hear what he’s got to say. The set up at Lewisburg makes it much safer than these other places he’s been.’

  Archer remembered spending time with his dead colleague, Diana Lucero, sharing a drink or three in an Irish bar as they watched rugby games from Europe together; her wild, frizzy hair and heavy Queens accent. Her smile and infectious laugh, and her work in the Bureau when they’d been involved in operations together. S
hepherd was right. He did owe her that.

  ‘I’ll call Lis.’

  ‘I’m sorry about this, Arch. Really. Once you get him delivered, take the full three days. I don’t need either of you back until Tuesday.’

  ‘Deal.’ Archer hung up and looked at his sister as she continued the PT workout, knowing he was about to disappoint her, again. She took another step, something she hadn’t been able to do for half her lifetime. This hospital was considered to be one of the founding institutions of modern American medicine and was regarded as one of the best of its kind in the world.

  With what they’d achieved for his big sister, he could see why.

  ‘You have to go already?’ Sarah asked, looking at him in disappointment once her physio session had ended. Archer had called Marquez, who was making good time from New York City and said she’d be with him in a half hour depending on traffic. Those thirty minutes were almost up. Sarah was back in her wheelchair and looked tired but happier than he could remember seeing her; until he’d just broken the news that he had to leave.

  ‘My sergeant needs my help with something down in Virginia. It can’t wait.’

  ‘We’ve got so much to catch up on. Did the doctor even explain-‘

  ‘He did, before my boss called. Do the girls know?’

  ‘Not yet. I want to get stronger and then really surprise them.’ Archer heard his phone ring again and saw Marquez’s name on the screen. He picked up his overnight bag. ‘I’ll be back in the next couple months and we’ll walk across the room together. Deal?’

  She smiled, before opening her arms and hugging him as he bent down. ‘I’ll race you. I was always quicker on my feet.’

  He grinned then said goodbye to the nurses and doctors who’d been helping his sister before leaving the ward. Marquez’s call had dropped before he could answer, but Archer guessed it was because she’d already arrived; he headed out to the front in time to see a 4x4 Ford with NY plates pull up, the driver’s window lowering to reveal his Latina colleague.

  ‘What’d you do, break the land-speed record?’ he asked as he walked over.

  ‘Sounds like you wanna see Lupinetti again as much as I do,’ Lisa Marquez said, as he threw his bag in the back before joining her up front. Five foot six with black shoulder-length hair and a Bronx native, she packed a punch, was an excellent interrogator and rarely missed a thing, the reason why Shep would have chosen her to accompany Archer. After he closed his door, he saw her looking at the name for the clinic. ‘Department of Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation,’ she read, knowing about his sister’s condition. ‘Did your sis hurt herself?’

  ‘Not quite,’ he said, buckling up. ‘Get us back on the highway and I’ll tell you.’

  TWO

  As Archer and Marquez left the hospital and began the drive south, inside the visitor room of their starting point tomorrow, United States Penitentiary Gatlin, a young dark-haired man just turned thirty years old was sitting on one side of a small table. Wearing the prison’s orange jumpsuit overalls with a white t-shirt underneath, he was staring intently at an attractive woman sitting opposite him, who was fidgeting nervously as they talked. Her eyes were ringed with dark shadows, standing out starkly against her pale complexion.

  ‘Five to six,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘That’s right, no? Or six to one. I will if you will.’ She mussed her hair suddenly. ‘I need to…to change this hair dye.’

  ‘Or not. That’s guaranteed.’

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  ‘Now’s the time?’

  She paused. ‘I’ve wanted to since I was eleven. Will look sharp.’

  A corrections officer standing near them yawned and wandered away, uninterested in what sounded like a dumb, inane conversation; he headed over to where some other inmates were sitting with their visitors instead. Very aware their every move was being recorded, but no longer in earshot of the guard, the Gatlin inmate leaned forward.

  ‘Are you out of your goddamn mind?’ he whispered, the woman returning his fierce gaze with one of exhausted defiance, this time his words making much more sense. She was red-haired, green-eyed and the same age as the man she was sitting opposite. His name was Nicky Reyes. Hers was Katherine O’Mara.

  ‘It’s a one-shot deal,’ Kat told him quietly, her finger tapping nervously on the table. ‘I’ll never get this chance again. We never will. My people know what they’re doing.’

  ‘I’ve been locked in this cage for almost twelve years,’ Nicky replied. ‘Just before I can restart my life again, you come here and hit me with this?’

  ‘The timing sucks. I know. But I can’t keep going the way things are, Nick. I’m getting desperate. You must see that.’

  ‘We can make it work when I get out.’ He leaned closer. ‘What you’re telling me is crazy.’

  ‘I got laid off again.’

  He paused. ‘From the diner?’

  ‘Yeah, they canned me, five weeks in. I’ve got next to nothing to live on, and Blair and Alaina won’t help. They won’t even talk to me.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I pull this off, we’re set for the rest of our lives. And I won’t be stealing anything.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Nicky said urgently. ‘We’ll find a way without you taking this kind of risk. Just don’t try to do this.’ He paused. ‘Are you sleeping?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you using?’

  ‘No.’ She looked at him, seeing the worry on his face as he looked at the exhaustion visible on hers. ‘I’m trying, Nick. I’m doing everything I can.’ After a jittery breath, she looked at him for a moment longer then rose from her seat. ‘I’ll get in touch once I’m out of Ohio. I’m ditching my cell so it can’t be traced. Don’t waste time trying to call me.’

  ‘Stop and think,’ he pleaded with her, keeping his voice low. ‘You really figure they won’t be prepared for this sort of thing?’

  ‘I’ve got no choice.’ He wanted to keep trying to talk her out of it, but she said a quick goodbye and left. Frustrated, he watched her go, knowing there was nothing else he could do from inside the prison and signaled to the guards he was done.

  He was escorted back to his cell, the allotted hour of time in the yard for the prisoners following thirty minutes later. Nicky ended up sitting on some benches near the far fence, layers of chain link topped with circles of razor wire surrounding the prison, armed guards in the towers keeping watch. It was late summer, with fall to come, the seasons changing once again. He’d watched the leaves turn brown before snow fell and the dark nights of winter giving way to the light of spring for more than a decade in this place.

  ‘What’s wrong, kid?’ a voice asked, belonging to his cellmate who was sitting beside him. Nicky had been distracted ever since he’d left the meeting with Kat, where she’d given him far more information than the guard who’d been standing near them could have guessed. He looked up and realized his celly had been watching his back while he’d been distracted, a lapse you couldn’t afford in a place like Gatlin.

  He made sure no-one was paying them attention or was close enough to listen, then told his cellmate everything he’d just learned from his meeting with Kat. The whistle went twenty minutes later, and the inmates began to trudge towards the door back into the prison, ready to line up before being taken to the chow hall. Nicky and his large, bearded companion joined them, keeping an eye on their backs as the COs led the line in.

  The day’s visits were done, the site was secure and the prison’s routine continued the same as always, the sun starting to sink towards the horizon for the night to follow.

  ‘The doctor at Johns Hopkins told me my sister’s the sixth person they’ve had these past three months take their first steps after a severe spinal injury,’ Archer told Marquez, the two of them inside a Quality Inn motel room in the Lee County area a couple of hours later. There was a pizza box on the table, an old Tom Cruise movie where he played a paralyzed war veteran on the TV beside them. The irony hadn’t been lost on the two detectives eating t
heir dinner.

  ‘When I was a teenager, I fell off a roof and almost broke my back,’ Marquez said. ‘Got away with it but had this weird tingling for a while afterwards in my lower back and legs. Went numb sometimes which scared the shit outta me, so I did my reading. I thought you couldn’t recover from spinal paralysis.’

  ‘You couldn’t. But the Johns Hopkins doc told me scientists just found an injured person’s dormant spinal column can be re-awoken by injecting a chemical solution. Binds to receptors or something, replaces transmitters that the brain releases in uninjured people.’ He laughed briefly and shook his head. ‘I think. I was trying to understand everything he was telling me.’

  ‘And it wakes up the spine?’

  ‘If I’m getting it right, yeah. Excites neurons and prepares them to coordinate lower body movement. Scientists then stimulate the spinal cord using electrodes. Sending continuous electrical signals through nerve fibers to the neurons that control lower body movement.’

  ‘Then?’

  He smiled. ‘Rats they first tested it on regained the ability to walk. They were put on treadmills and the movement created some kind of sensory feedback. They were able to continue moving without any input from the electrodes. Body rewiring itself.’

  Marquez dropped a half-eaten pepperoni slice back onto the torn off lid of the box, her face showing she wasn’t overly impressed with the pizza the area had to offer, before wiping her hands on a paper napkin. ‘Now I see why you were pissed that Shepherd pulled you away to come do this. I’d have driven all the way back to Queens just to kick his ass.’

  Archer smiled again. ‘He’s forgiven. He knew it was bad timing. And he knew I’d want to be here for Lucero.’

  ‘How’d your sis get involved in the treatment?’

  ‘Doc said she emailed the hospital almost ten years ago wanting to be kept informed of the latest research. When this study showed it was pioneering and going places, she was one of the first to sign up for human trials. Probably helped she was providing regular funding too.’