Free The Night Falconer by Andy Straka

guy, but he’s stiff arming us. Can’t you give us any help at all?”
    “If we start finding solid ties to Watisi or his building regarding these threats,” Marbush said. “Then we can start bringing some heat.”
    Phones rang almost simultaneously somewhere across the building and for a moment I was back in my own precinct fifteen years before.
    It had been different then, of course. Different time and place. The 45 th Precinct had been housed in a much older building in the Bronx. But a similar uncertainty hung in the air, a stale, institutional shabbiness that went beyond the dust in the corners, the smell of gun leather, or the urine stink of a drunk. As a cop, you had to learn to keep a lid on your feelings, had to learn to listen impassively and with grave attention, because somebody had to wade knee deep into the garbage and attempt to sort it all out.
    “You still with us, Frank?” Darla asked. She and Lt. Marbush were staring at me.
    “Yeah, I’m here,” I said. “You know what?”
    “What?”
    “Watisi thinks of himself as being noble.”
    “So?” Darla shrugged. “Don’t we all?”
    “Yeah, but standing by the car earlier, he wanted to talk about falconry and chivalry.”
    “What are you getting at?”
    “I don’t know yet,” I said. “Just something buzzing around in the back of my brain.”

8
    Though her shift had ended, Jayani Miller was still working when I returned to the lobby of Grayland Tower. Out through the glass doors, she and her fellow security guard were helping a statuesque blonde fit a feeble old man into the passenger seat of a gray sports car parked in the turnout.
    Somehow, their earpieces and finely tailored suits didn’t look so impressive when they were playing doormen. I guess every job has its lesser moments.
    As the Mercedes slid out into traffic, the two came back inside to assume their posts behind the desk.
    Jayani smiled at me. “You made it.”
    “Promised you, didn’t I? You still working? I thought you finished up at five.”
    “Nah, I’m done. Just helping out until you showed up.” She nodded at her partner, who seemed ready to begin shouldering his duties alone. This was not the same man who had been working with her earlier. The other guard must already have left for the day.
    “There’s a coffee shop two doors down,” Jayani said. “You want to buy me a cup?”
    “You got it.”
    A couple of minutes later, she sat across from me sipping a Grande Mocha. I myself made do with a bottle of sparkling water. Figured I’d save the additional caffeine imbibing until later when I might really need it.
    Once she was out of range of her place of employment—with her earpiece tucked away in a pocket—Jayani seemed like just one more bright ambitious young person in a city always looking for fresh faces. But for the discreet Grayland Tower insignia on her breast pocket, she might have worked on Wall Street or for a publishing company.
    “Okay,” I began. “I know you’ve been through all this before, Jayani. But I’d like you to tell me again exactly what you think you saw the other night.”
    “Not what I think I saw,” she said. “What I know I saw.”
    “Okay.”
    “It was three days ago. I was working the graveyard shift that evening, not much happening, a pretty quiet night.”
    “Alone?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Just like you saw now. We only keep one guard on after midnight during the week and after five on the weekends. It’s mostly the snooze patrol.”
    I nodded.
    “Anyways, about three o’clock in the morning, I hear this thud against the glass out in front. Not real loud or anything, just a thud. So I stepped outside to check on it.”
    “What did you see?”
    “I didn’t see anything at first. There’s a Japanese Maple between the street and the sidewalk around the corner. I was thinking maybe it was a squirrel or a bat or something that flew out of the tree. Then I saw the guy with the bird running down the sidewalk across