The Manhattan Puzzle (21 page)

‘I just want to find my husband.’

He turned away. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned when this snowstorm becomes an ice storm,’ he said.

‘Thanks a lot, Mr Cheerful,’ said Laura.

‘No charge.’

Isabel wasn’t up to listening to any more banter. She looked up. Creaks were emanating from the building around them, as if the plumbing was struggling.

‘You do know all this stuff with the BXH merger being cancelled and them going out of business,’ said Greg, in a more serious tone, ‘smells as rotten as a pile of fish heads.’ He peered at his screen.

‘A big scandal just as someone is about to do a takeover could easily be a scam, a diversion. I bet the merger can’t go through for some other reason. They probably have a black hole in their balance sheet. And one of their competitors is complaining. It wouldn’t be the first time a New York bank has been brought down so that others could prosper. In 1907 some of the biggest banks in the state went bust, but it worked out well for the others. They took the bad ones over.’

‘Isabel doesn’t want history lessons, Greg.’

There were a lot of things hidden from people. That wasn’t big news to Isabel. What Isabel needed to know was what Sean’s role in all this was.

‘I don’t believe in conspiracy theories,’ she said.

‘Me neither. I like to see evidence,’ said Laura.

‘Evidence?’ said Greg. ‘Did you ever read the history of BXH? You know it was founded by a slave trader, who became a mayor ‘cause he was so good at it. And when bankrolling slave ships dried up, they started bankrolling opium shipments to China. I could go on.’

‘Please, stop with the ancient history,’ said Isabel.

Despite herself, she yawned. She’d got very little sleep on the plane, and it was way after midnight by her body clock.

Greg was tapping away at his keyboard. ‘I’ll see if I can do something on this one,’ he said.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the padded leather arm of the sofa. She needed to sleep, if only for a minute.

She woke with Greg pushing at her shoulder.

‘Wake up, I found something.’

She blinked. Her eyelids felt horribly sticky. He went back to his Apple. Laura was looking at her.

‘You okay, honey? I told him we should let you sleep longer. But the dork wanted to wake you up straight away.’ She tapped the top of Greg’s head.

He rubbed at it. ‘Hey, quit it.’

Isabel’s head felt as if it had been in an oven. Her body felt equally bad, bloated, lethargic. Her eyes didn’t even want to focus.

‘You got any coffee, any painkillers?’

‘Just made a pot, and there’s some Tylenol in the cabinet back there.’ Greg waved in the direction of the toilet.

She found the tablets, washed her face, and got herself a mug of coffee. She still didn’t feel right, but at least her eyes were focusing as she stood beside Greg peering at the screen in front of them.

‘What did you find?’

He turned to her. There was a pleased look on his face. ‘You know this stuff ain’t available to any internet junkie who can Google?’

‘Tell her, Greg. Cut the BS,’ said Laura.

‘Okay, I know a website that tracks vehicles coming and going through the Lincoln Tunnel and a couple of bridges.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I put your license plate in it, and guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Tell her, Greg.’

‘That plate passed through the Lincoln Tunnel twice in the past two hours.’

‘Twice!’

‘Yeah. At 18:58 it went through heading for Jersey. And fifteen minutes ago it came back!’

‘Going back to BXH, I’d say,’ said Laura. She sounded excited.

‘Can you track the car in Manhattan?’

‘I’ll have a look.’

Isabel leaned towards him. ‘Please, Greg. I need to find my husband.’

The phone on his desk started warbling. Greg picked it up before he answered her. It was the first time in her life she saw someone go from pale to bone white in two seconds.

‘Thanks, Steve,’ was all he said.

He reached forward, grabbed his mouse, clicked at a skull icon on his screen, and as the screen went blank he spoke quickly, looking up at them, his eyes wide, frightened looking.

‘We gotta go. Some fucking idiots are on the way up. Come on.’ He was almost shouting. And there was a note of desperation in his voice.

He leaped out of his chair. The air in the room felt suddenly heavy.

‘Stevie says they’re the kinda guys who shoot first, then ask who you are.’ He grabbed keys, a wallet, and put an iPad under his arm.

Isabel was putting her jacket on. Her hands didn’t want to go through the sleeve holes.

Was this to do with her?

Laura had her coat on. Isabel went to the door and listened. She couldn’t hear anything outside. All she could hear was her own breathing, her heart pounding.

‘Could this be a mistake?’ she said.

‘No way. Steve’s an ace doorman.’

He was beside her now, talking fast, peering through the spy hole.

‘He got a call asking who lives in 1180, that’s me, and a minute later some guys burst through the front door, then pushed some poor old girl out of the way. Then they try his door. He didn’t answer it. He’s got a half-inch steel plate on it. If he says we got seconds. We got seconds.’ He opened the door. ‘He’ll call the cops, sure, but they could get here in an hour.’

The skin all over Isabel’s back and on her arms was tingling. She wanted to get going. She knew how important a few seconds could be.

The elevators were to the left, around a corner, so at least whoever it was wouldn’t see them as soon as they got out at their floor.

They were all in the corridor. The door to Greg’s room closed with a thunk.

A distant hum echoed.

‘Let’s go’ said Greg. He nudged her, then took off in the opposite direction to the elevators. She followed.

There was a bad smell in the corridor, stale food, backed up plumbing or something worse.

Were they overreacting?

She kept running.

The corridor went right. Her heart was thudding from the exertion as she turned the corner. They were on the opposite side of the building to the elevators now. If they kept going they’d come all the way around. Where were they heading?

Greg stopped, rapped on a door.

Laura and Isabel reached him as it opened. As it did they heard a loud cracking noise, like something being broken, behind them. A muscle in her neck started to jump.

The door in front of them had only opened an inch. Out of the crack came lilting Chinese music, and the sweet smell of roses, as if a door into a garden had opened.

What the hell are we doing here, thought Isabel.

‘Lai ho, Greg,’ a reed-like voice said.

‘Hi Bao. Can we come in?’

Isabel saw a big dark brown eye examining her. Then she heard running in the corridor behind them. It was coming their way. There was a momentary hesitation, then the door in front of them opened wide.

They stepped inside. It was wonderful to get out of that corridor. Bao was a slim Chinese girl, three quarters of her height, with an innocent smile and a wave of black hair that went down almost to her waist. She bowed as Isabel passed her. Then Greg closed the door, gently, and put his ear to it.

‘What you doing, Greg?’ Bao looked worried. One of her hands was in the air, a finger pointing to the ceiling, as if she was directing traffic or about to scream at them and tell them to disappear. She was wearing a white silk kimono

‘Don’t kick us out, Bao. Someone’s looking for us, and they’re not cool people.’ He shook his head and moved away from the door.

Her apartment was all white, and almost twice as wide as Greg’s, but it had the same single window facing into the inner shaft of the building. Against one wall there was a white trolley, the kind of the thing you’d use if you were a masseuse. Above it there were certificates in Chinese.

They could have said she’d done well in her flute lessons, for all Isabel knew. A low table stood in a corner. On the table there were the remains of a simple meal, a white cup and a bowl with a few grains of rice still in it.

Bao touched Greg’s face, brushed her hand over his cheek.

‘Greg, you know you always welcome here.’ She put her head to one side, letting her hair swish in front of her.

Greg watched her.

‘Thanks, Bao. You’re the best.’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘What trouble you in this time, Greg?’

‘Something different,’ he said.

He walked to the window. You couldn’t make out much through the frosted glass, except patches of light and darkness.

Isabel’s breathing was returning to normal, but a muscle in her neck was twitching. She held her palm over it. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Was all this connected?

Greg opened the window halfway.

Most of the windows to the right, where Greg’s apartment was, had lights on behind them. Only one of them was out.

Greg had turned the light out in his apartment as they were leaving.

‘Which one is yours?’ said Laura, softly.

Greg’s lips started moving. He was counting.

‘Fourth one from the far end.’

‘The light’s just turned on in your apartment,’ said Laura.

Lord Bidoner held Alek’s hand as they went up in the express elevator.

‘Are you hungry?’ he said, leaning down to Alek.

The boy nodded. He looked pensive, unsure. His eyes were red rimmed, as if he’d been crying.

‘We have some food for you.’

‘When do I see my Daddy?’ came a little voice.

‘Soon, very soon. But you must be a good boy, like we warned you.’

‘I am.’

Xena went into the apartment first. She took Alek’s hand in hers and led him to the panic room.

‘You will have a room all to yourself until your Dad arrives,’ said Xena, as they went inside.

Alek looked at the stark white room and the big steel bed and his chin went down.

‘I want to go home.’ There were tears rolling down his cheeks.

Xena bent down to him. ‘This will be over soon,’ she said. ‘Very soon.’ She handed him a teddy bear. It was brown and still in its wrapping from the shop.

He hugged it. The plastic wrapping scrunched.

His tears didn’t stop. He sat on the floor, looked around, then closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. Xena watched him for a minute. She bent down and stroked his head. His whimpering became quieter.

Then she left him alone and locked the door of the panic room so he couldn’t get out.

Lord Bidoner was on the phone in the main room of the apartment.

‘Mr Pilman,’ he said. ‘Can you confirm to Mr Vaughann and your security staff that I have permission as a possible buyer for BXH, to visit the the bank and tour the building?’

The voice at the other end came across clearly.

‘I will certainly do that, Lord Bidoner. I don’t think you’ll find any hidden value here, though you are welcome, as the preferred bidder at this time, to inspect the premises. I will inform Mr Vaughann and our security section that they are to cooperate with you. Though I have to tell you our head of security has gone missing and he had access to places in the building that even I have never seen.’

‘I’m sorry to hear he’s disappeared. I hope he comes back soon.’

Bidoner smiled. It was all going exactly as he’d planned. His Ebony Dragon hedge fund was holding a significant shareholding in BXH, they were a suitable buyer for the bank, and now he had access to even the most secret parts of the BXH building.

And they would succeed in their takeover, now that they had Li’s money behind them. The collapse of the shares had helped, as had the cancellation of the original takeover bid. BXH was far too vulnerable now to resist a white knight in the form of a well-known hedge fund.

He smiled to himself as he looked out at the snow being blown against the window of his apartment. Everything was falling into place. All his planning was paying off. The moment they’d been waiting for was near. Very near.

All they had to do now was make the final sacrifice.

The muscle in Isabel’s neck started twitching faster.

Whoever had turned the light on over there was looking for them, for her maybe.

A dark shape filled the window of Greg’s room. She could hear Greg breathing fast beside her. There was someone very big over there.

She licked her lips. They were rough, dry.

Bao pushed the window closed, fast.

‘So sorry, I forgot, I’m expecting a customer, Greg. Will you need to stay here long?’ She wanted to get rid of them.

Could she blame her?

‘Who do you think’s over there?’ said Isabel.

She held her fist to her forehead. Her skin felt cold. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. For starters, whoever was over there had no idea that they were here.

‘I don’t think it’s one of my Twitter buddies,’ said Greg.

‘You got buddies?’ said Laura.

‘He got good buddies,’ said Bao. She put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Do you think they’re looking for me?’ said Isabel. Everyone looked at her.

Greg shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I’ve been doing recently is researching BXH, and their stupid merger plans and then looking up that number plate for you.’

‘Why don’t we call the police?’ she said.

‘The last time someone in this building called a cop, they were dead and cold before the cop arrive,’ said Bao. She put her hand to her chest, as if she was holding something close to her.

‘I told you to be careful, Greg,’ she continued. Then she turned to Laura and Isabel.

‘The Chinese bank that was going to buy BXH eats journalists for breakfast, whole. I knew them from Hong Kong. Greg should be hiding what he’s doing. He must be very careful. I need my good customers to stay alive.’ She shook a white finger at him.

Then she retied her white kimono. It was one of those short ones that only come down to her knee. She gave them a brief glimpse of her thighs as she did so. They were thin, pale.

Laura and Bao were staring at her.

‘You okay?’ said Bao.