Nightrise (13 page)

He already knew that he couldn't take the elevators.

Even if one happened to be waiting for him with the doors open, they would deactivate it before it reached the ground. But he was heading in the opposite direction. The fire stairs. Forty-nine stories led to the street but he only had to get below the forty-fifth and he would be out of Nightrise, safe.

One of the managers tried to stop him. Jamie saw a man in a suit standing in the corridor, his arms apart as if he wanted an embrace. Jamie lashed out, punching the man full in the stomach, then leaped past him as he crumpled, gasping, onto the floor. The fire exit was ahead. Suddenly there were people everywhere but none of them were moving, hoping someone else would take the responsibility. In the corridor behind him, he heard Banes shouting orders. Jamie hit the fire exit and plunged through.

And at exactly that moment, every alarm in the building went off. The air exploded in a chaos of howling sirens and bells. Jamie wondered if the door was wired and he had triggered the alarm himself.

But that wasn't possible. He had already opened it once. It was Alicia. It had to be. She must have dialed 911 the moment after she made the call to Mr. Banes.

Jamie hurtled down the emergency stairs. Below him, he heard doors bang open. Nightrise shared the building with at least a dozen other businesses and they were all being evacuated. The stairway ahead of him was already crowded. Jamie pushed and twisted his way through the crowds — but even so, it took an age to reach street level. As he broke into the sunlight, firefighters and police officers were making their way in, looking for any sign of smoke. There were two or three hundred people out on the street.

Already, word was beginning to spread that the whole thing had been a hoax.

Jamie hurried across the street. Alicia was waiting for him in the car.

"Did you get it?" she asked.

"Let's go…" Jamie was breathless. His heart was pounding. And he felt dirty, with Banes's memories still clinging to him. He wanted to get them out of his system. He needed to go far away.

They drove off, looping around the block and then heading back toward West Hollywood and the house.

Alicia looked briefly at Jamie but said nothing. Perhaps she understood that he needed to be left alone.

Then her cell phone rang.

She looked at it for a moment. Nobody knew that she was in Los Angeles, apart from her sister — and she was probably somewhere in the air. So who…? A number showed on the screen and, with a sense of dread, she recognized it. She had no choice. She answered the phone.

'You called me a few minutes ago," Colton Banes said. "I believe I'm speaking to Alicia McGuire."

Alicia pulled over and stopped.

His own telephone system would have stored her number, of course. How had he gotten her name? It wouldn't have been difficult. The Nightrise Corporation was a huge business. It would have its own resources.

"What do you want?" Alicia demanded.

Next to her, Jamie heard the voice and knew at once who she was speaking to. But he couldn't make out the words.

'You have a son," Banes replied.

Alicia stiffened. Pain flared in her eyes.

"We want Jamie Tyler. He's nothing to you. You know that. If you ever want to see your son again, give him to us. It's a very simple proposition, Mrs. McGuire. You give us this boy, we'll give you yours. But this is a once-only offer. If you refuse me, you'll never see Daniel again."

Alicia wasn't breathing. Jamie knew that something terrible had happened. She was holding her phone as if she were trying to crush it. About ten seconds went past. At last she spoke.

'You go to hell, you bastard," she whispered.

She ended the call. Then she turned off the phone. Finally, she threw it onto the backseat as if it had bitten her.

"What did he want?" Jamie asked.

"He offered to swap Danny for you," Alicia said.

Jamie didn't know what to say. He knew what she must be thinking. He didn't have any need to read her mind.

But when she turned to him again, she was smiling even though her eyes were bleak. "He's told me what I wanted to know," she said. "Nightrise has Danny. Before, it was a suspicion. Now it's a fact. And that means I know what to do."

She slammed the car into gear and once again they drove off. Jamie looked back. The sun was still shining. The office of the Nightrise Corporation looked no different from any of the others that surrounded it as they joined the freeway, leaving it far behind.

NINE

Friends in High Places

The police had thrown a tight security ring all around the Carlton Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard, just south of Beverly Hills. It seemed to Jamie that Los Angeles had no real center. It sprawled carelessly from district to district…but if the city had a wallet, it would surely keep it here. Jamie had never seen so many expensive shops and boutiques standing shoulder to shoulder, the windows dripping with watches and jewelry and five-thousand-dollar suits.

The Carlton was an old-fashioned building, fifteen stories high and stretching an entire block. As Alicia and Jamie drove into the front courtyard, a dozen valets in matching, gray waistcoats hurried forward to help them out of the car and then to park it below. But even the valets were outnumbered by the Secret Service personnel, who had their own uniform: black suits, white shirts, sunglasses, and earpieces. To Jamie they looked almost ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon. But perhaps that was the idea.

They were advertising the fact that the hotel was protected.

Senator John Trelawny was staying here for twenty-four hours before he gave his speech at the L.A.

Convention Center and he had taken over the entire twelfth floor for the night. There were just five months until the general election and his campaign team numbered almost a hundred people, including media advisors, political consultants, speechwriters, pollsters, personal aides, and more security men.

All of them had rooms, and for one night all the elevators to the twelfth floor had been blocked. To visit the senator, guests would need to show ID and then receive a passkey—* provided by the Secret Service. Callers were accompanied all the way. If they didn't have an invitation, they didn't get in.

"Will he see us?" Jamie asked as he and Alicia followed a winding corridor into the hotel.

Alicia nodded. "I just have to let him know we're here…"

They entered a cavernous lobby with a huge chandelier hanging over a round, polished table. Jamie found himself staring, openmouthed, at the wealth on display. There was too much of everything. Too many electric candle lights, too many vases of flowers — at least ten of them — on the table, too many antique clocks and mirrors and display cases packed with handbags, scarves, and shoes. And too many people. There was a concierge desk and a reception desk and porters and guests everywhere. Rush hour for the rich, Jamie thought. He had never been anywhere like this.

Alicia stopped and looked around, searching for someone she knew. A few moments later, she found him. "There!" she exclaimed, and moved forward.

There was a man standing next to a table close to the elevators. He was dressed in the same dark suit and white shirt as the other security men but he had a brightly colored tie as if to announce that he wasn't actually one of them. Even so, there was a telltale wire curling behind his ear and he was obviously doing the same job, scanning the lobby with suspicious eyes. He was at least six and a half feet tall with blond, close-cropped hair, blue eyes that were constantly on the move, and the body of a weight lifter.

His shoulders were huge. Either he was ex-army or a retired basketball player…or both.

The man saw Alicia and recognized her before she was nearer than ten paces.

"Alicia!" He greeted her by name, but he seemed more surprised than pleased to see her.

"How are you, Warren?"

"I'm good." He drawled the words. "I didn't know you were in L.A."

"I didn't know I was coming until a couple of days ago."

Warren had noticed Jamie, who was standing a few steps behind her, trying to keep out of the way. The man frowned briefly, and Jamie was suddenly nervous that he might have been recognized.

"This is a friend of mine," Alicia said. "His name is David." There was a showcase against the wall, advertising Davidoff cigars. Jamie knew that she had plucked the false name from there and hoped that the security man hadn't noticed it too. She turned to him. "David, this is Warren Cornfield."

Warren nodded slowly at Jamie, then turned back to Alicia. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I want to see the senator."

'You want to see the senator?" A slow smile spread across Cornfield's lips. But he wasn't amused. 'You know that's not possible, Alicia. Tomorrow he's talking to ten thousand people. Somehow, I don't think he's got time to see you right now."

But Alicia stood her ground. "When I left, he said his door would always be open to me."

"That's not what he told me."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I'm not his assistant, Alicia. You know that. I think maybe you should call back another time and get an appointment."

Jamie could see that Alicia was struggling to keep her temper. "I'm here right now, asking for an appointment, Warren," she growled. "And you're right. You're not his secretary. So why don't you call up to Elizabeth, who is— and she can ask John if he'll see me."

'You're wasting your time."

"We'll see, won't we?"

Alicia smiled pleasantly but Warren scowled. He didn't like being talked to in this way, but it was clear that Alicia wouldn't be argued with. Warren held up a single finger and walked away, his head cocked, talking into a concealed microphone. To anyone else looking, he could have been arguing with himself.

"Warren is John's personal security officer," Alicia explained. "He's supposed to liaise with the Secret Service, but half the time he thinks he actually runs it. We never did get along."

"I can see that."

"They say he was with the CIA a while ago but got thrown out. Personally, I think…"

But Alicia didn't finish the sentence. Warren Cornfield was walking back toward her and his whole demeanor had changed. He was like a sulky child. "He says he'll see you," he muttered.

"Thank you, Warren."

"Why don't we make that Mr. Cornfield? You're not part of the team anymore…"

He snapped his fingers like an angry diner demanding a drink. One of the younger Secret Service men came running over. "Show these people up to twelve," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Cornfield."

Alicia smiled at him, and she and Jamie went over to the elevator. The security man inserted a key into the lock and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors closed. 'You friends of the senator?" he asked.

"I used to work for him," Alicia said.

"He's a good guy," the security man went on. "I might even vote for him myself. Charles Baker is a jerk…"

There was a silver-haired man in a suit but no tie waiting for them when the elevator arrived. Warren must have radioed up from below. The man knew Alicia at once. "My dear, it's very good to see you.

How have you been keeping?" He had an Irish accent.

"It's great to see you, Patrick. Still playing the horses?"

"Still losing."

"This is a friend of mine." She indicated Jamie but was careful not to say his name. "Patrick is John's campaign chairman for the state of California."

"Good to meet you." Patrick smiled and Jamie warmed to him at once. He was obviously puzzled by Jamie's appearance but had decided to ask no questions. "He can't see you for very long, Alicia," he said as he led them down a corridor. "Right now the pressure's on."

"How is he?" Alicia asked.

"He's doing a grand job. I just wish the contest wasn't going to be so damned close…"

There was a set of double doors at the end of the corridor with yet another Secret Service man on guard.

Patrick showed a pass and led Alicia and Jamie into a large conference room with a single table scattered with notepads and pens, computers, printouts, files, trays of sandwiches, and bottles of mineral water. There were a dozen people sitting around, and from the look of them none had slept very much in recent days. They were busy talking, arguing over a graph of some sort, but as Alicia came in, one of them stood up and with a shock Jamie recognized the man he had seen on posters all over Los Angeles.

John Trelawny didn't look like a politician. That was Jamie's first thought. He was a handsome man, taller than Jamie had expected from his picture, and younger too, perhaps in his late forties. He had hair that had once been fair but had since faded, on its way to going gray. But he looked fit and healthy. He was wearing cords, a loose-fitting blue sweater, and sneakers. He was obviously tired but his light brown eyes were full of life.

"Alicia, this is a very unexpected surprise. How are you?" He embraced her. "Is there any news of Daniel?"

'Yes, there is, Senator. That's why I wanted to see you." She turned and introduced Jamie. "This is Jamie." This time, she used his name.

Trelawny reached out and they shook. "How do you do."

"Sir…"Jamie found it hard to believe that he could be shaking hands with the next president of the United States.

"I'm sorry to come here like this," Alicia went on. "I know how busy you are and how important this time is for you. But I urgently need to talk to you."

''You've found your boy?"

"I think I may have. Yes. But I can't reach him."

"Senator…" A woman sitting at the table held up a cell phone. "I have the mayor of Auburn on the phone for you. He wants to talk about the birthday parade."

Trelawny looked bemused. "Not right now, Beth," he said. "Can you tell him I'll call him back?" He turned to Alicia. "I'm afraid I can't give you too much time," he explained, "There's a lot going on right now. But, you know, a break might be good for me. In fact, it might be good for all of us. Okay, everyone!" He raised his voice. "Go out and get some fresh air or have a snack or do something that approximates a real life. We'll get back together in ten minutes." He turned to Alicia. "Why don't you and I go next door where we can talk undisturbed?"