After one last check to make sure there was no one about, Yuri went out the door. He locked it and opened the garage within seconds. Vigilant for any surprises and careful to keep the gun at the ready, Yuri made short work of getting his cab out of the garage and the overhead door closed. Accelerating down the alleyway, he began to relax. He turned out into Oceanview Avenue and headed for the Shore Parkway, the fastest route into Manhattan at that time of the day. As he motored up the entrance ramp, he bent over and stuck the Glock under the front seat.

Yuri knew that Curt would be furious at Yuri’s upcoming visit to the firehouse, but Yuri was convinced he had no choice. He could have called, but Curt would have been angry at that as well, and Yuri was convinced it was far better to talk to Curt face-to-face to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. As he drove, Yuri got progressively more annoyed that he even had to worry about Curt becoming irritated. It was ridiculous for people working together for a common goal to be so fearful of a partner’s reaction. The only explanation was that Curt was anti-Slavic like he was anti everything else.

The Brooklyn Battery Tunnel left Yuri in lower Manhattan. Making sure his “off duty” sign was illuminated, he drove north on West Street to Chambers before turning right and working his way over to Duane Street.

Yuri slowed as he neared the firehouse. He didn’t know whether to park or not. Seeing a foursome of firemen playing cards at a table on the sidewalk directly in front of the entrance made him opt to stay in the car. The firehouse’s huge overhead doors had been thrown open to the glorious mid-fall day. Just the shiny red fronts of the ladder truck and fire engine could be seen.

Yuri pulled his cab up onto the ramp, then angled it off, putting him parallel to the building. The men at the table looked up from their game.

Yuri lowered his passenger-side window and leaned over.

“Excuse me!” he called. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Hey, Lieutenant!” one of the men yelled over his shoulder. “You got a visitor.”

Curt emerged a few minutes later with a hand over his eyes and squinting from the glare. Because of the bright sunshine, the inside of the building was dark by comparison. His expression was one of curiosity until he caught sight of Yuri. Then his countenance clouded with barely contained rage.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled in a forced whisper.

“We’ve got an emergency,” Yuri snapped back. He reached out with one of Jack Stapleton’s business cards.

Curt took the card while casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at his card-playing colleagues.

“What’s this?” he demanded.

“Read it!” Yuri ordered. “It’s what the emergency is about.”