Page 72 of The Accomplice
‘I’m afraid I can’t be more helpful. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m busy.’
‘We know you keep two sets of books for your landlords. There’s all kinds of ways around rent control and keeping some of their income away from the IRS. We wouldn’t want that to come to the attention of the FBI now, would we ?’ said Lake.
From the way Lake folded his arms, Bloch thought he was expecting this threat to be met with a little co-operation. He had underestimated the lawyer. Lake may be a good investigator, but he was shit at this.
‘You’re not in any position to make threats, Mr. Lake. You and your little friend should leave now before you get hurt.’
Before Lake could say anything in reply, Moonman took one step toward him. It was a big move. In more ways than one. This wasn’t just someone stepping into your personal space, it was more like a buffalo getting ready to charge, or a planet moving within twenty feet of your house. Lake glanced at the big man and smiled. The smile was not returned.
He put his hand on Lake’s wrist, gently at first, then looked toward Archie for confirmation he should throw them out on the street. The hand looked like it was wearing a catcher’s mitt, but it was just one big goddamn set of fingers.
‘Tell your friend to keep his hands to himself,’ said Bloch.
‘Oh, she speaks. Is this your muscle, Mr. Lake ?’ said Bunsen, suppressing a laugh. ‘You’re in a whole lot of trouble now. You should’ve brought somebody bigger.’
Lake stood between the giant and Bloch. She had remained still the whole time. Taking in the room, her hands clasped in front of her. So when she moved, and moved fast, it all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. She dipped her right hand into her jacket, and suddenly there was a huge gun in that hand, in front of Lake’s face, pointed directly at the big guy’s head. The Magnum 500 is a weapon of such size and power it tends to make a dramatic entrance in every situation in which it is introduced.
‘That big enough for you ?’ asked Bloch. ‘The paperwork. I don’t have time for this. You already know what we’re looking for because your client would’ve called you when the feds paid him a visit. Get it now.’
‘What is she going to do ? Shoot him ?’ asked Archie.
‘Your friend’s head is the size of a basketball. I don’t think she could miss it from fifty feet away,’ said Lake.
‘I’m not going to shoot him,’ said Bloch as she opened the hand holding the gun. Her finger was still in the trigger guard, and the barrel swung down, and the mahogany grip tilted up, as she closed her fist on the chamber of the weapon, reversing it so the butt was now a hammer. Like an old gunslinger move.
She drew back her arm, flicked it forward and the butt of the pistol sank into the flesh around the top of Moonman’s wrist. He immediately let go of Lake, and his huge mouth opened to suck in air as he cradled his forearm. Stepping back, he stumbled and fell flat on his ass.
‘You’re starting to piss me off,’ said Bloch. ‘A heavy ballpeen hammer weighs around two pounds. This gun weighs almost six pounds. If you don’t get us the paperwork now I’m going to break your friend’s other arm. Then I’m going to hammer your head up his asshole.’
There was something in Bloch’s tone that resonated with Bunsen.
His chair squeaked, loudly, as he leaned forward and got up, moving swiftly to a file cabinet. He hauled it open, started looking through the file dividers inside, his fingers tripping through the pages.
‘If you bring a gun out of that file cabinet, I’ll put a big hole in your wall. The hole will go through you and the file cabinet first,’ said Bloch.
Bunsen’s fingers stiffened, then began again. He grabbed a thin navy-colored file from the cabinet and handed it to Lake.
He opened the file and saw only a few pages. A lease with a signature he couldn’t make out, and a bank statement. The lease and the bank statement were in the name of a company – Shoreline Limited.
‘Is this all ?’ asked Lake.
‘That’s all we got.’
‘Good enough,’ said Bloch.
Lake got into the passenger seat of Bloch’s Jeep with the file in his hand while Bloch started the engine. Opening the file on his lap, he scanned the documents with his finger, found what he was looking for and started typing on his phone.
‘Shoreline Limited looks to be a shell company of some kind according to the SEC databases. No accounts have ever been filed,’ he said. ‘Company director is Daniel Miller – no surprises there. Wait, there’s a company address, but it’s not Miller’s home address.’
Traffic wasn’t too bad in the Holland Tunnel for a change, and within the hour Bloch pulled into an industrial complex in Bayonne, New Jersey. The area was a honeycomb of warehouses, factories and haulage depots. The address Lake pulled up from the SEC database was an old brick building surrounded by a rusty chicken-wire fence. It had once been some kind of warehouse or garage, judging by the wide and tall double oak doors on the front. Every window in the building had been broken. Kids in need of target practice, guessed Bloch.
They got out of the car and examined the chain securing the fence. Not new, but not that old either. The lock on the chain was certainly in good shape. No rust anywhere.
‘This is a decent place to hide,’ said Lake.
Bloch went to her car, took a crowbar from the trunk and gave it to Lake. She drew her gun and said, ‘The lock was busted when we got here.’
It took Lake three swings to break the lock. Bloch hadn’t seen another vehicle or another person on the street since they had gotten here and didn’t imagine the noise would be too much of a problem either. There was no way to open the huge double doors. A dirt and gravel lot surrounded the building. On the side of the building, Bloch spotted a steel door, painted blue probably forty years ago. The lock on the door was good. And it was new. Shiny and oiled. The door had not been repainted. Someone wanted to make good use of this place but didn’t want anyone to know they were here.
