Any Means Necessary. Jack Mars

Luke? You need to know something else.”

      “Tell me.”

      “I didn’t find out this information. It’s on the big board in the main room. This guy Myerson at NYPD didn’t give me the identifiers when he had them, and they did their own search. They released the information to everybody without even telling us. They’re boxing us out.”

      Luke looked at Ed and rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in an interagency pissing contest. “All right, well…”

      “Listen, Luke. I’m a little worried about you. You’re running out of friends here, and I doubt an international incident is going to help. Why don’t we pass the bank transfer details up the line, and let Homeland make this call? We can apologize for the hack, say we got overzealous. If you go see that diplomat now, you’re putting yourself way out on a limb.”

      “Trudy, I’m already there.”

      “Luke – ”

      “Trudy, I’m hanging up now.”

      “I’m trying to help you,” she said.

      After he hung up, he looked at Ed.

      “You ready?”

      Ed barely moved. He gestured at the building.

      “I was born to do this.”

* * *

      “Can I help you gentlemen?” the man said as they walked in.

      A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling in the front lobby. To the right, there was a sofa and a couple of designer chairs. There was a long counter along the left wall, with another doorman standing behind it. He had a telephone, a computer, and a bank of video screens. He also had a small TV set showing the news.

      The man appeared about forty-five. His eyes were red and veiny, not necessarily bloodshot. His hair was slicked back. He looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. Luke guessed he had worked here so long, he could drink all night and do the job in his sleep. He probably knew by sight every single person who ever came in or out of this place. And he knew that Luke and Ed didn’t belong.

      “Ali Nassar,” Luke said.

      The man picked up his telephone. “Mr. Nassar. The penthouse suite. Who may I say is calling?”

      Without saying a word, Ed slid over the counter and pressed the handle on the receiver, severing the man’s connection. Ed was big and strong like a lion, but when he moved, he was fluid and graceful, like a gazelle.

      “You may not say anyone is calling,” Luke said. He showed the doorman his badge. Ed did the same. “Federal agents. We need to ask Mr. Nassar a few questions.”

      “I’m afraid that won’t be possible at this moment. Mr. Nassar doesn’t accept callers before 8 a.m.”

      “Then why did you pick up the telephone?” Newsam said.

      Luke glanced at Ed. That was a snappy answer. Ed didn’t seem like the debate team type, but he might have done well.

      “You’ve been watching the news?” Luke said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the radioactive waste that’s gone missing? We have reason to believe Mr. Nassar may know something about that.”

      The man stared straight ahead. Luke smiled. He had just poisoned Nassar’s well. This doorman was a hub of communication. By tomorrow, every single person in the building was going to know the government had come to question Nassar about his terrorist activities.

      “I’m sorry, sir,” the man began.

      “You don’t have to be sorry,” Luke said. “All you have to do is grant us access to the penthouse level. If you don’t, I will arrest you right now for obstruction of justice, and I will lead you away from here in handcuffs. I’m sure you don’t want that, and I don’t want to do it. So give us the key or the code or whatever it is, and then go on about your business. Also, know that if you tamper with the elevator once we are inside it, not only will I arrest you for obstruction, I will arrest you as an accessory after the fact to four murders, and the theft of hazardous materials. The judge will set bail at ten million dollars, and you will languish on Rikers Island awaiting trial for the next twelve months. Does that sound appealing to you…” Luke glanced at the man’s nameplate.

      “John?”

* * *

      “Were you really going to arrest that man?” Ed said.

      It was a glass elevator, which moved through a round glass tube in the southwest corner of the building. As they rose, the view of the city became breathtaking, then dizzying. Soon, they could catch a vast sweep, the Empire State Building directly across from them, the United Nations building to their left. In the distance, a line of airplanes glinted in the early morning sun on their approach to LaGuardia Airport.

      Luke smiled. “Arrest him for what?”

      Ed giggled. The elevator kept moving, up and up.

      “Man, I’m tired. I was just going to bed when Don called me.”

      “I know,” Luke said. “Me too.”

      Ed shook his head. “I haven’t done this round the clock thing in a while. I don’t miss it.”

      The elevator reached the top floor. A warm tone sounded, and the doors slid open.

      They stepped into a wide hallway. The floor was polished stone. Directly in front of them, ten yards ahead, two men stood. They were big men in suits, dark-skinned, perhaps Persian, perhaps some other ethnicity. They were blocking a set of double doors. Luke didn’t really care.

      “Looks like our doorman called ahead.”

      One of the men in the hall waved his hand. “No! You must go back. You cannot come here.”

      “Federal agents,” Luke said. He and Ed walked toward the men.

      “No! You have no jurisdiction. We refuse your entrance.”

      “I guess I’m not going to bother showing them the badge,” Luke said.

      “Yeah,” Ed said. “No reason to.”

      “On my go, okay?”

      “Sure.”

      Luke waited a beat.

      “Go.”

      They were five feet from the men. Luke stepped up to his man and threw the first punch. He was surprised at how slow his own fist seemed to move. The man was five inches taller than Luke. He had the wingspan of a great bird. He blocked the punch easily and grabbed Luke’s wrist. He was strong. He pulled Luke closer.

      Luke raised a knee to the groin, but the man blocked it with his leg. The man put a big hand to Luke’s throat. His fingers clenched like an eagle’s talons, digging into the vulnerable flesh.

      With his free hand, his left, Luke jabbed him in the eyes. Index and middle fingers, one in each eye. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it did the job. The man let go of Luke and stepped backwards. His eyes watered. He blinked and shook his head. Then he smiled.

      It was going to be a fight.

      Then Newsam was there, sudden, like a ghost. He grabbed the man’s head in both hands, and banged it hard against the wall. The violence of it was profound. Some people banged an opponent’s head against the wall. Ed Newsam did it like he was trying to break through the wall using the man’s head.

      Bang!

      The man’s face winced.

      Bang!

      His jaw went slack.

      Bang!

      His eyes rolled.

      Luke raised a hand. “Ed! Okay. I think you got him. He’s done. Let him down easy. These floors look like marble.”

      Luke glanced at the other guard. He was already sprawled out on the ground, eyes closed, mouth open, head leaning against the wall. Ed had made short work of them both. Luke hadn’t made a dent.

      Luke