Authors: George Norris
As Sharon looked up the block, she saw Gerald Flynn enter the lobby of his hotel. She looked over at Louie Castillo. “Don't worry I'll be careful.”
She got out of the car before Castillo could utter another word of protest. She ran towards the hotel's entrance trying feverishly to catch up with Flynn.
Castillo watched his former girlfriend running up the block with mixed emotions. He decided he was starting to have feelings for her again. If anything bad happened to her, it would be his own fault and he could never forgive himself. On the other hand, once he found out what room Flynn was staying in, it would only be a matter of hours before Flynn, and eventually Keegan, would be arrested and made accountable for their actions. Castillo was so close to winding the case up he could almost taste the fruits of his success.
Sharon Winters had caught up to Gerald Flynn in a matter of seconds. She kept an eye on him as he walked to the hotel's elevators. Flynn got on the elevator first and Winters followed. She glanced to see that the panel for the third floor was light up. She reached passed the man and pushed the same button herself. She offered Flynn a casual smile as she did so, to see if he was amused by the apparent coincidence. Flynn barely even looked back at her and waited patiently for the elevator to reach his floor.
The elevator door opened at the third floor. As they stepped out, Sharon Winters intentionally dropped her handbag. She hoped that Flynn would not decide to be a gentleman and pick it up for her. Somehow she was sure he would not. She bent down to retrieve her bag, Flynn continued on his way, creating some much needed distance between them. She walked about ten to twenty feet behind him waiting to see which room was his. Flynn casually walked toward the end of the hall and as he did so, Sharon could see him reach into his pocket to get the key to the room. Sharon figured that his room must be one of the next few rooms if he bothered to retrieve his keys. Sharon was about twenty five feet away now. She had slowed her pace to allow for more distance.
Her preoccupation watching Flynn kept her from noticing that when Flynn turned right at the end of the hall, it was into an open doorway. He never used his key. Sharon just blindly followed. As she got closer, she realized Flynn has disappeared into a stairwell. He had made her tail after all. Castillo would be so disappointed with her. She knew he probably ran down the stairs to flee the hotel, although she hadn’t heard any footsteps running. It was weird, she conceded. She picked up her pace, realizing she needed to find him again.
As soon as she made the turn,
uneasiness came over her.
Something’s not right
. Strong hands grabbed her from behind the door and pulled her backwards; slamming her into the wall. Her head bounced off the wall and she had the wind knocked out of her. She fought the blackness. “Don’t you be falling out on me bitch!”
She fought through the daze and looked into the cold eyes of Gerald Flynn, experiencing a fear that she had never before known. Flynn immediately knocked her handbag to the ground and put one hand solidly around her throat. Without immediately saying another word to Winters, Flynn looked her up and down. With one hand firmly secured around her throat he used his free hand to search her for any weapons.
Sharon went into a state of shock and froze. She couldn't even fall back on her training which taught you to always fight back; never give up. Sharon came to the thought that her life was about to come to an end, right here in the stairwell of this hotel.
Flynn narrowed his eyes before interrogating her. He spoke in a quiet, yet stern voice. “Who are ya, and why might you be followin' me lady?”
He saw the terror in her eyes and fed off of it.
Sharon Winters couldn't even muster up enough strength to answer. He watched as she turned red from the lack of oxygen. Her both hands trying to free herself from his grip was no match for his strength. He could feel her fight weaken. He released his grip and bent down to retrieve her pocket book while still keeping a sharp eye on her.
He opened up her bag and saw a .38 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver. Flynn removed the gun without any protest from Winters and placed it in his jacket pocket. Sharon Winters bent over, hands on her knees trying to catch her breath as Flynn then went through her wallet. He removed an assortment of credit cards and papers. Flynn examined her N.Y.P.D. identification card. “A detective is it? A lady detective at that, no less.”
Flynn’s sarcasm was not lost on Winters, but her only concern at this point was to survive the encounter. He hadn’t killed her yet, so there was a chance she’d live, she assured herself.
“I'm so sorry. I am. Ya see…I'm from Belfast. That’s in Northern Ireland, you know? This is me first time in New York and I've heard how violent New York is. Even worse than home, they say. I thought you were followin' me to rob me.” Flynn flashed her, an insincere smile. “I hope ya understand my confusion.”
He then returned her identification card among other items and retrieved her gun from his pocket. He opened the cylinder, hit the ejector rod and emptied the rounds into his hand. He pocketed the rounds before putting her gun back in her bag and closing it up. He went on to further explain. “Ya see, back at home we don't have to many lady officers because it's too rough. Could ya imagine if they came up against a real bad
guy? He'd no doubt, take her own gun away from her and use it against her. Again, I do apologize, Detective Winters. Maybe I could stop by your flat sometime and buy you a drink as an apology.”
He held her driver’s license at eye level, showing her that he retained it. He read her address out loud, asking if it was a dangerous neighborhood. Flynn then reached up and gently caressed the face of a terrified Sharon Winters. “I hope I didn't hurt ya, lass. All a big
misunderstanding, ya see.”
Flynn continued to gently rub the back of his hand from her face all the way down to her right breast. He had caressed her breast ever so slightly to add humiliation to her already battered ego. “Ya coulda just bought me a drink at the bar…no need to come back to me hotel.”
Sharon stood motionless as she watched Gerald Flynn disappear down the stairs. She wondered at what point he had made her tail, or did he recognize her from McBrides when she got on the elevator. She wasn't sure if she was more humiliated at his actions or her own neglect. She had always considered herself to be a good detective so how could she have walked into such an obvious trap. This would be a valuable lesson to her in the future but nevertheless, it was a lesson that she almost paid for with her life.
She was too embarrassed and outraged at the whole incident to tell Castillo what really happened. She decided she would tell him that she lost track of him because he got into the elevator before she herself got into the lobby. At least that would be a plausible excuse. She would tell him that she waited around and walked floor to floor, hoping to find him. That should cover for the time she was missing. If Castillo found out that she had blown the entire case for him by getting made, she wasn't sure he would ever forgive her.
She went into the lobby restroom, studying the redness on her throat. She waited for a few moments to gain her composure and to catch her breath before leaving the hotel to rejoining Louie. She zippered her jacket as high as it could go to hide any evidence of a confrontation her neck would attest to. This would prove to be a night Sharon Winters would never forget.
Gerald Flynn jogged down the stairs to a rear entrance of the hotel. He continued to run for six blocks without ever slowing down. He was barely even breathing hard when he finally stopped. Flynn was in remarkable shape and had been running and exercising everyday in case his agility or stamina would come into play in either the hit itself or the escape afterwards. Flynn laughed to himself at the thought of how the female detective had been shaking.
Stupid bitch
, he thought to himself.
Did she really think she could follow me without me noticing?
Flynn wondered what Keegan was up to. Would there be a squad of undercover officers here to arrest me tonight to try and prevent the hit?
With less than a week to go before Saint Patrick's Day, Flynn decided he wasn't going to take any chances. He would abandon the few belongings that he had in America realizing it was not safe to return to the hotel to retrieve them. He opened up his wallet and saw that money would not be a problem. He had plenty of cash and his nine millimeter. That would be all he would need to successfully complete his stay in New York.
By not checking out of the hotel, Flynn realized Keegan would be wasting man power keeping it under surveillance. That could only help him. There was nothing of value in there so Flynn didn’t care. They would also find and search the rental car he deducted, but once again, there was nothing they would find in there that could hurt him. Gerald Flynn was careful when it came to his plans. He’d have nothing written down on paper that could be used against him down the road.
Flynn came to the conclusion that at this point, he would have to stay off the grid and lay low. He would have no more contact with Dan O’Brien since Keegan would probably be watching him as well. Flynn liked the fact that it was the middle of the night. The streets were so desolate it would be easy to spot a tail. In the distance, he saw a police cruiser approaching.
He removed his gun from his waist and put it in his jacket pocket. He wondered if Keegan had the entire police force looking for him. The car drove right passed him without as much as slowing down. The walk to the nearest subway station was well over a mile but Flynn knew exactly where it was. He prepared himself for a similar scenario and what his best options would be if he had to flee his Queens hotel. Flynn was unsure of his destination but he knew it was going to be a small out of the way hotel where he could lay low until the day of the parade.
He entered the subway station on Astoria Boulevard, taking the N line to Manhattan. He shared a near empty car with a homeless man, who stunk something awful. He wore a brown winter jacket torn at the right shoulder and side pocket. Flynn observed the man’s once blue
jeans were closer to black. Flynn was almost certain his unkempt white beard and hair was infested with lice. Flynn sat as far away from the man as he could but would not change cars. He liked the advantage of the empty train car. Knowing he was not being followed put his mind at ease.
At the Queensboro Plaza stop, a few more people got on. Most changing cars after getting one whiff of the rotten air the homeless man was creating. Two rather rough looking young men remained in the car. They were young black men around the same age or younger than Flynn. One wore a Cincinnati Reds hat, the other a St. Louis Cardinals. Neither was necessarily a baseball fan however. The red ball caps combined with the red bandana which they were
flagging
from their back pockets, suggested a gang affiliation. They surveyed Flynn, looking for an easy mark to rob. Flynn was no easy mark and they sensed it. Flynn met their cold stare with his own; almost daring them to make the first move. They exited at the very next stop without bothering Flynn.
He walked through Manhattan in the predawn hours looking for a place to lay his head. He found a rather less than desirable hotel, just outside of Times Square. It was the type of hotel that didn’t have just nightly rates, but also had rates for blocks of four hours; the type of hotel frequented by prostitutes and their johns. Flynn could care less about the clientele, however.
He paid cash in advance, booking his room for several days after Saint Patrick’s Day. He opened the door. The musty smell hit him at once. The walls were cracked in more than one place and the tan paint was so dingy that Flynn figured it hadn’t been painted in many years. It was a very small room with a small television. Next to the remote control were directions how to order porn. He set his gun down on the worn nightstand and got undressed. Flynn turned down the bed and sat down. The mattress was too soft and lumpy. He had, however, slept in worse he thought, as he lay back and closed his eyes.
James Keegan parked the Crown Victoria in the driveway of his home. He looked at the car's clock before shutting it off, seeing that it was after four o'clock. He locked the car and proceeded to quietly open the front door to his house. Once inside, he listened attentively trying to hear if there was any stirring from the bedrooms. Noting no noises, he quietly took off his shoes and left them in front of the door as usual. He made his way up the stairs and entered his bedroom.
His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness so he felt his way over to the television and turned it on for some light to get undressed by. He kept the volume all the way down, not wanting to disturb Kate. She didn’t wake up but the light from the television must have bothered her because she turned over, trying to escape it. He unholstered his gun and put it away in its locked strong box in the closet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he finished getting undressed. He could see in the dimly lit room that the note he had left her remained untouched on the night table.
He walked over and took the note. If she hadn't waken up and seen the note he might just as well get rid of it so she would never knew he had ever left the house. He walked downstairs and buried the note deep in the garbage pail in the kitchen. He drank a small amount of antacid, to soothe his extremely upset stomach. Keegan never had an ulcer, not even with all the stress he had endured over his many years as a cop, but he thought he could feel one coming on after the last couple of weeks.