The Manhattan Puzzle (26 page)

Owen waved at her, then headed for a seat on the other side of the rectangle of tables. The policewoman was standing nearby. Isabel could feel herself being examined.

‘This is Detective Tess Grainger, Isabel. She’s with the NYPD. She wants to ask you some questions. I agreed to let her meet you here only because of the highly unusual circumstances. I do think you should have your own attorney present, but in the meantime, Mike will make sure everything is done correctly.’

The lawyer smiled at her. The guy was good at making it look like he cared.

She looked up at Detective Grainger. There was a sheen of sweat on the detective’s forehead. Isabel got a feeling that she was about to pull handcuffs out and arrest her.

‘How you doing, Mrs Ryan?’ said Detective Grainger.

‘I’m not good,’ said Isabel. Detective Grainger leaned down. ‘I’ve got some urgent questions we need answers to, like an hour ago. But you don’t have to do this with these people here. We can do it all somewhere else, if you want. Down at the station, maybe?’

Isabel waited. She looked from face to face.

‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’ She emphasised each word. ‘Ask me anything you want, I mean it. Anything. I don’t care who’s here.’

‘Okay,’ said Grainger, a little tentatively, as if she was working out the best way to play this. She looked at Vaughann, then back at Isabel.

‘But I’ll want to see you on your own some other time, down at the station, Mrs Ryan,’ she said. There was a protective note to her comment, Isabel noted.

‘You don’t have to agree to answer any questions you don’t want to,’ said Mike, the criminal lawyer.

‘He’s right,’ said Vaughann. Then he leaned over the table towards her. ‘Your husband was one of our most trusted contractors, you know. I do have some idea about what you’re feeling. So remember, you really don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.’

She looked at Vaughann. ‘You know what gets me, Mr Vaughann?’

He shrugged.

It was time to tell him a few things.

‘You don’t understand what BXH’s culture does to people. BXH has stolen my husband, as far as I’m concerned. He put everything into working for you, and this is where we end up.’ She waved dismissively at her surroundings.

Vaughann’s eyebrows went up. A vein in his forehead was throbbing.

Isabel leaned forward. ‘You were at that club in London too. The one that poor murdered dancer worked in. What were you doing there, setting an example?’

‘Your husband has confessed,’ said Vaughann, softly. ‘I understand why you’re angry, but I don’t think you can blame me for what happened. Not at all.’ He looked around for support.

Was she the only person who could see the truth?

‘You don’t get it, do you? I don’t believe that Sean’s guilty. And I won’t believe it, until I hear it from his own mouth as he stands in front of me.’

He shook his head, as if he was dealing with a stubborn child.

‘Maybe, if your husband was here, Mrs Ryan,’ said Detective Grainger. She was sitting on the chair next to Isabel now. She turned it a little more towards her, scraping it horribly on the floor. Her accent sounded like bins rolling.

She had short straight blonde hair. It sat in an unruly bundle on her head halfway over her eyes, making her push at it now and again.

‘Do you know where he is?’ said Grainger.

‘No, do you?’ Her mouth was painfully dry, her lips hard from the cold, the tension. The pounding in her head was low-key.

‘We were really hoping you might be able to help us with that.’ The detective stared at her. Did she think Isabel was hiding something?

‘I’ll ask you a straight question now, Mrs Ryan. Do you have any plans to meet your husband?’

‘Are you crazy? I’m looking for him! He told me to come here.’ She raised a hand, pressed it to her forehead. This was making her mad.

‘When did you last see him?’ Grainger took a small leather-bound notebook from an inside pocket of her jacket.

‘Earlier tonight. I think it was half past six.’ Isabel closed her eyes. He’d been so close, only feet away. Why hadn’t he seen her?

‘Where was that?’

‘He was in a town car exiting the BXH car park up above. He didn’t see me.’

‘And you haven’t seen him since?’ Her eyes were unnaturally open, as if she rarely believed anything anyone told her, and Isabel wasn’t going to be an exception.

‘No, I haven’t. Have you checked hotels? BXH usually books him into one.’

‘We have, ma’am.’ Her smile could have cut glass.

Isabel looked around. The SEC man, Dick Owen, looked tired. He was sitting beside Vaughann. He had his fingers steepled together. His red tie was a little off centre.

Detective Grainger pushed her chair away from the table. She put her notebook on her knee. Vaughann whispered something into Dick Owen’s ear. The SEC guy raised his eyebrows, stared at her. Then he spoke.

‘You came to New York to find your husband, is that right, Mrs Ryan?’

All eyes were on her. It sounded as if she was being investigated now.

‘Yes.’

‘You are aware that the woman who died in London was a drug addict and a prostitute?’ said Owen.

‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’ said Isabel. She pointed at Vaughann. ‘You know Sean isn’t into drugs or anything like that. What the hell is going on here, a character assassination?’

‘We’re just trying to get to the truth,’ said Vaughann.

The GMC Yukon pulled up in the alley on the far side of 45th Street from BXH’s entrance. As the man in the back got out, a policeman looked down the alley. Then he looked away. There was nothing to see, just a nondescript businessman on his way into a nondescript office.

The reception area of the firm Li had come to visit was on the twenty-sixth floor. It had a high ceiling and a sculpture of a bear raised up on its hind legs ready to attack.

When Li reached the twenty-sixth floor there was no one behind the reception desk, but there were still lights on. He passed the plastic card he’d been given over the blue-lit panel at the side of the glass door. There was a click.

The toughened glass slid open. As he walked inside a man appeared from a corner of the reception area. He appeared to have been waiting for Li.

‘Welcome,’ said the American. Then he bowed.

‘Everything is ready,’ he said, motioning towards a door.

Li put his hand up. ‘I do not want to visit the trading floor, even if it is empty. Just tell me one thing before we talk. What is the prediction for US banking sector shares on Monday?’

‘They’ll dive to their lowest ever. I guarantee it,’ said the American. He grinned.

It didn’t seem to worry him that the future of his country was being gambled over. Only one thing concerned such men, Li knew. What they can walk away with from the table.

Detective Grainger put her hands up. ‘Hold on. I don’t want any more questioning of Mrs Ryan in my presence until I advise her of her rights.’

Isabel sat up straight. Was she serious? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead.

‘You all right with that, Mrs Ryan?’

She nodded, though she didn’t feel all right.

Then Grainger began. ‘Okay, Mrs Ryan. You have the right to remain silent. But anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?’

Isabel nodded. The air in the room had cooled by ten degrees.

‘This is crazy. What the hell are you reading me my rights for?’ she said.

‘This is all just-in-case stuff, Mrs Ryan,’ Grainger gestured, waving her hand through the air, as if reading Isabel her rights was not a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

Did she think this conversation was going to go sour? Did she really want to do all this down the station?

Grainger lowered her voice. Her tone was conspiratorial, even though the others at the table could hear her as well.

‘My friend over there from the SEC might start asking you questions, and I don’t want you incriminating yourself, and then some fancy lawyer telling us later on you hadn’t even been read your rights.’

‘Am I under suspicion?’ It felt as if steel bands had been placed around her chest and they were being tightened, slowly. These people were supposed to be helping her, not questioning her.

Detective Grainger leaned back, looked up at the ceiling as if she was looking for holes or inspiration.

‘Look, you gotta understand. We’re investigating some real serious matters here. There’s been some brutal murders. And now we’ve a suspect who’s disappeared. And you’re related to that suspect. We’ve also got a number of alleged serious financial crimes, which are under investigation. Now, the way I see things, suspicion falls everywhere. You got that? I mean everywhere.’ She looked across the room at Vaughann, then at Owen, then at Mike the lawyer.

Isabel liked that.

She also liked the fact that Grainger’s jacket had bobbles of pink wool down one arm, as if it had been pressed up against someone in a pink sweater just before she came out.

She looked like someone who stood up to bullies, and who wouldn’t take a dime to do anything crooked. Ever. She probably annoyed the other officers in her precinct for that. The male ones that is.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go down to the station, get some privacy?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

Detective Grainger reached forward, took one of the small bottles of Aquafina from the middle of the table and handed it to her.

‘You want some water?’ she said.

Isabel took one of the white paper cups beside the water bottles and poured herself a glass. She drank it quickly.

Mr Vaughann glanced at his watch. It was a gold Rolex. Sean had told her how he’d been in a meeting once in the bank where everyone in the room had been wearing a Rolex, except himself. He’d refused to stop wearing the Hamilton his dad gave him.

It was one of the reasons she loved him. He didn’t care about impressing people.

She felt a longing to see him. It pulled at her like a tide.

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mrs Ryan?’ said Detective Grainger.

‘I want to know why my husband is missing.’

‘I can assure you, whatever his reasons are, they won’t be anything to do with BXH,’ said Vaughann. His tone made it clear that any contrary notion was preposterous.

‘You weren’t listening,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens to Sean I put at your door, at this stupid casino’s door.’ She waved at the walls.

She turned to the SEC guy. ‘Why don’t you just take over this bank, clean it all out? You could do that, couldn’t you?’

‘First of all, Mrs Ryan, that’s not our role. The FDIC do that kind of thing,’ said Dick Owen. ‘Second, do you know how many banks they’ve taken over this year already?’

She shrugged. Whatever the number, what difference did it make?

‘Does that matter?’

‘We’re looking for alternatives, Mrs Ryan.’

‘You mean between now and when they file for Chapter 11, before midnight tonight?’ It all sounded very last minute.

There was a pause. Owen and Vaughann looked at each other.

‘What the hell are you doing down here talking to me?’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t you be upstairs saving BXH’s ass?’

Detective Grainger smiled, just a little, before looking at the floor.

‘We thought you might know where your husband is,’ said Vaughann.

Isabel felt a strange sensation. She’d realised something.

‘You’re not telling me everything. I can feel it.’

Vaughann looked at Dick Owen. The look on his face confirmed it.

She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, if someone had told her this was all going to happen a few days ago. She’d have said they were dreaming or mad.

‘Let’s establish a few facts,’ said Detective Grainger.

Isabel wanted to get out of the room. This was all a distraction from her finding Sean. A distraction that seemed to be suiting Vaughann and Owen. Why would that be?

‘Did your husband visit strip clubs regularly?’

Isabel’s cheeks flushed. It was bad enough he’d gone to one of those clubs. Now she was being asked about it as if it was somehow her fault, and in front of a room full of men.

Her grip on the paper cup tightened. One side bent in. She stopped squeezing just in time before the water dripped over the edge.

‘He went a couple of times, a long time ago.’ That was what he’d told her. But was it the truth? She drank some water. A little spilled down her chin.

‘Why don’t you ask him what he was doing there?’ Isabel pointed at Vaughann.

He put his hands up, as if she’d pointed a gun at him. ‘I can assure you it wasn’t my idea to visit that club. I didn’t even know what kind of place it was until I got inside. I exited the place immediately. As quickly as I could actually, under the circumstances. I already told the Detective all this.’

She turned to Detective Grainger. ‘Are you looking for my husband?’ She dreaded the answer.

‘We have an APB out for him, Mrs Ryan. We’re watching the airports, the bus stations, the train stations. The usual stuff.’

‘Great.’ But it wasn’t. It was proof that her nightmare had just entered another level. They were hunting him down like they would a terrorist suspect.

‘Have you any idea,’ said Detective Grainger, leaning towards her, ‘why your husband would confess to something he didn’t do?’ She put her head to the side, as if she was sceptical about the confession too.

‘No. But I do know he’s not guilty.’ She pushed her chin forward. Someone had to stand up for him.

Vaughann guffawed quietly.

‘You gotta think straight now, Mrs Ryan,’ said Grainger, softly.

Isabel looked away. There had to be an explanation for all this. She rapped the table between her and Vaughann. ‘What about you? Were you with that poor dancer the other night?’

Vaughann leaned back in his chair.

‘I told you. I went straight back to the bank soon after I got to that club,’ he said confidently. ‘My driver can testify to that. As can about twenty people who were in the bank working on the merger when I got there. And I stayed in the building all night.’