If he could locate that path and clear it out, he might be able to trace a coherent story.
He fell asleep around two, but then was awakened at four by the harsh grinding of garbage trucks collecting refuse in front of bars and restaurants on Amsterdam Avenue. The sound reminded him of the relentless grinding of Mendoza through the years. The mills of the gods, he thought. Then, quite suddenly, he was seized by an idea.
He checked his bedside clock. It was four-thirty. If he got up he'd have sufficient time to shave, shower, tape on a microphone pack, then dress and taxi over to Cort City Plaza with perhaps a half-hour cushion before meeting The Dark One as he emerged for his morning constitutional.
At Cort City, waiting for the dawn, he asked himself again why Dakin had chosen to live in such a place. Either he's shallow and empty as the development, or he's so lonely he needs it as a refuge from his demons.
At exactly six Dakin stepped out the front door of his building, face grim and taut, body angled forward. He took a half-dozen aggressive strides before he noticed Janek. Then, acting not at all surprised, he gestured awkwardly with his hand.
"You again." Dakin's yellow eyes sliced Janek up and down.
Janek, falling into step beside him, asked: "Clury was dirty, wasn't he?"
"Hub? What's that?" Dakin cupped his hand over his ear. "Better walk on my other side."
Janek didn't change position. "Last time you told me your hearing was better on your right. Now you're telling me to walk on your left. Cut the bullshit, Chief, and answer the question. Clury was dirty and you were on to him. You'd have taken him down, too, if he hadn't gotten himself blown up."
Dakin showed a tight, sparse smile. "Practically had my hands on his balls." He puffed his cheeks. "Another inch, I'd have had him in a nutcracker."
Bastard! But Janek knew he would have to apply some flattery. He desperately needed Dakin's knowledge.
"Was Clury dealing?"
"Naw! Too smart for that! He was tipping them off, a double agent.
Most all of them are, you know-our brave undercover narcs!" Dakin's sarcasm was palpable; he was not a subtle man. "You know that. They're all slime snakes. Otherwise they wouldn't be so happy in the slime."
"How'd you get on to him, Chief?"
Dakin smirked. "I had my own agent in place. He'd penetrated the same group. But my guy was after something else." Dakin ma dea little squirting sound. "Oh, old Howie was raking it in, though we never found any of the loot. I figure his widow got hold of it, stashed it away. You know how it is in IA? When the suspect dies it's ' closed." That's policy," he added, in case Janek didn't know.
"What'd you have against Timmy Sheehan?" Dakin snorted. "Another slime snake."
"But you could never make the case, could you, Chief'?
So you thought you'd make up a case. Isn't that what you did?"
Dakin broke his stride. "What're you talkin' about?"
"I'm talking about Phyllis Komfeld."
"Ancient history. You already beat me on that. Why bring it up again?"
"I'm bringing it up because there's a lot more to it."
"Such as?"
"You tell me."
Dakin strode two steps before he spoke. "You've been in my old files, haven't you?"
"I've seen a few things," Janek bluffed.
"What're you trying to prove, Frank? I'm out of the Department. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"I want to hear the story from your own lips."
"One of those, are you?"
"We're both one of those, Chief. We like a good confession. Today I'm here to hear yours."
"What the hell! Woman comes to me with a good story. No point wasting it. So I put it to use."
"She IDed Clury, didn't she? But Clury was dead. So -you convinced her to finger Timmy. What I don't get is how you did it. They didn't look alike at all." Dakin smiled. "Komfeld was nuts. I could've gotten her to swear to anything. Told her there might be some reward money in it if she could make the story stick."
"So you suborned perjury?"
"Wouldn't put it that way." Dakin shrugged. "Like I said, it's ancient history. Sheehan got off. I got tossed. Kinda backfired on me, wouldn't you say?"
"I think there's some backfiring yet to come."
"Hub? What do you mean?"
"Obstruction of justice. It's still a crime, Chief, even if it didn't work."
The razor eyes sliced him back and forth.
"You're wired, aren't you?" Janek nodded. Dakin stopped, then his yellow eyes flickered. "Wasn't enough to run me out. Now you want to nail me to the cross." Jesus! He sees himself as a little cop Christ! "There's more," Janek said.
"Is there now?" A droplet of saliva flew out of Dakin's mouth.
"A little surprise."
"I could use a good surprise."
"Maybe not this one. See, Chief, Clury wasn't killed in that explosion.
He's still walking around."
"What the-?"
But Janek was walking away, toward the Baychester Avenue station.
"Alive! Can't be!"
Dakin was still shrieking when the train thundered in. Janek turned to give him a final look. Dakin's mouth was working, but no sound came out, just an expression of incredulity and rage.