Chapter 62

CHAPTER 62

AUGUSTE POE WAS tossed back and forth in the back of an NYPD patrol car as it sped through Brooklyn, lights flashing, siren wailing. The two cops in the front seat had pulled him out of Holmes, Marple & Poe headquarters with just three words: “Duff wants you.”

“Did they locate the person I called about?” asked Poe, banging on the partition between the back and front seats. He’d contacted Duff’s office earlier to relay the information Marple had given him, but all he’d gotten in response was a brusque brush-off. Until the knock on his door.

“Where are we going?” asked Poe. The cop behind the wheel turned around as they passed through Greenpoint, heading north.

“Silvercup Studios,” he said. “Incident in progress.”

A kidnapping! Poe thought. Marple was right!

As the car sped through traffic, Poe pulled out his phone and tapped the deerstalker hat icon on his favorites menu for the dozenth time. When the line clicked, he didn’t even wait for Holmes to speak.

“Where the hell are you? Why was your phone off? I’ve been trying to reach you!”

“I’m on the train,” Holmes replied. His voice was garbled by a weak connection. “Almost back to New York.”

“Margaret got a lead on another abduction!” shouted Poe. “I think it’s happening right now! I’m texting you the location.” Poe looked up to see SILVERCUP in giant red letters looming over a pale brick edifice a few blocks away. “Get here fast!” he said, then clicked off.

The police car pulled up to the studio entrance, and a cop with an M4 carbine waved them through into a narrow parking area behind the studio complex. The driver pulled them to an abrupt stop in a cluster of other official vehicles—patrol cars, SWAT units, comms vans, ambulances. The lot was glowing with red, blue, and amber lights. A police helicopter hovered overhead. Poe spotted Captain Graham Duff barking orders to a couple of cops in tactical gear. The captain looked up and flicked his hand in a beckoning motion. The two cops grabbed Poe by the arms and hustled him over.

“What’s going on?” Poe asked Duff, tugging his arms free. “They wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Three girl babies,” said Duff. “Nine months old. Attempted kidnapping in the middle of a goddamn diaper commercial. Security guard spooked the perp and cornered her in a soundstage over there.” He pointed to a closed steel door, wide enough for a truck. Other ground-level openings had long ago been walled over. The place looked like a fortress.

“Was Marple’s tip right?” asked Poe. “Is the suspect Megan Robinson?”

Duff nodded. “She came in on an H-2 visa six months ago. Started working here through a connection with some British producer. She was in charge of managing the kids.”

“Where are the babies now?”

“In there with her.” Duff took a step closer to Poe and tapped him on the chest. “How did you and your partners discover this information? What’s your connection? Who’s your source?”

Even in the midst of a tense situation, Poe couldn’t help but take pleasure in Duff’s consternation. “We’ve told you before, Captain, and I’ll tell you again. We’re very good at what we do.”

They were interrupted by loud screams and wailing coming from a few yards away. Three crazed-looking women had burst out from behind a lighting equipment truck. They were being held back by uniformed cops. Duff glanced in their direction.

“The moms,” he said. He shouted over to the cops. “Get those ladies back inside!” The cops half dragged the distraught women back down the sidewalk.

“Let me talk to them,” said Poe, starting in their direction.

Duff planted himself firmly in his path. “Not a chance.”

The roar of engines echoed off the building as another SWAT truck pulled up.

And behind it, a sedan with a single blue flasher on the dashboard. The car stopped, and a man stepped out.

“About damn time,” growled Duff.

“Who’s this?” asked Poe, eyeing the man’s polo shirt and rumpled khakis.

“Hostage negotiator,” said Duff. He turned to the two cops. “You guys have one job.” He jabbed his finger at Poe. “Keep this jerk out of my way.”