In her room, Katrina was also busy – getting ready for the fashion convention. She had promised her father to stay put, but she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of a life time because of someone else’s fear.
She shut her door very quietly and slipped out of the suite when the door guard stepped into the restroom. The doorman hailed a cab and Katrina Radha disappeared into the city.
***
Nine years on the force, and I’m back on traffic duty.
Davis was angry – and frustrated. He’d tried one more time to ditch this stupid assignment, but Markovic insisted. So, here he was – stopping cars and checking ID’s.
A guy on a bike – probably a messenger – sped towards the barricade. Clyde stepped in front and cut him off. The bike skidded to a stop.
“Hold on there, Chuckles,” the detective said. “Access is restricted from this point.”
“Sorry, officer.”
“Detective.”
“Sorry, Detective.” The young man looked around. “Any alternate route suggestions?”
“Let me see some ID, son.”
The kid fumbled with his wallet and handed over a license.
“Jimmy Nolan. This your current address?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s the hurry?
“Headed to Fashion Week. I didn’t realize something was going on down here.”
“It’s the United Nations, Mr. Nolan. Something’s always going on.”
“Yes, sir.” He paused. “Ah…about those alternate routes.”
“Not today, Jimmy. Move it. That way.” He pointed back the way Jimmy had come.
“Yes, sir.”
He turned the bike just as a uniformed officer approached. “Detective Davis,” he said. “We have a suspicious vehicle over here.”
Davis turned his head.
And, Jimmy turned his bike. He knew better than to accelerate like he was in trouble, so he made a production of waving to a distracted Davis.
“Thank you, Detective,” he said in a voice about twenty percent too loud. Davis threw his hand into the air. When he turned back around, he saw Jimmy. Davis reached for his walkie, then watched as Jimmy turned on a side street and headed away from the U.N.”
Trust your gut, Davis thought. But, if I see that kid again, his ass is mine.”
“Detective.” The officer’s voice was straining a little. “A little help, please.”
The run-of-the-mill four-door had a parking ticket on the windshield.
“You think it’s wired, sir?” the officer asked.
Davis forgot about Jimmy. “How would I know,” he said. “How long has it been here?”
“I saw it at 0930 hours. But, I don’t know how long it’s been here before that.”
“Do you know an Officer Janowitz?”
“Frank Janowitz – yes – with the two-nine.”
Davis held up the ticket that he’d extracted from the windshield.
“This his badge number?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, I’d say the car’s been here about three hours based on the time of the ticket.”
“What should we do, sir? There might be a bomb.”
Davis rubbed his temples. “I think we should stand real close together so that if it blows up, none of the shrapnel will get past our courageous bodies.”
“Sir?”
“Call the damn Bomb Squad, officer – like you should have when you first saw this car two hours ago.”
A lanky kid approached, hat turned backwards. “Yo, 5-0, whatcha doin’ to my ride?”
“This your car?”
“Yeah – had to visit my old lady – you know…a little sumpin’-sumpin’ before the day begins.”
“Your day starts at 10:00 AM? What do you do?”
Pause … nervous laugh. “I am an independent contractor.”
Davis moved in closer. “If I find you independently contracting near a school, I will put you away for a long time. Understand?”
“10-4, your officer-ship. Can I bolt now?”
“Get. Oh – this is yours.”
Davis handed over the ticket.
“Shi-it!”
“Forget to pay it and I will find you. That’s a promise, Mr. Contractor.”
The car started with a puff of noxious, blue smoke, backed up, then rolled away.
The officer tapped Davis on the shoulder.
“Do you think I should still call the Bomb Squad, sir?”
Davis just shook his head and went back to the barricade.
-9-
New York Fashion Week kicked off in Manhattan with glitz, glamour, and all but one of the world’s best-known runway artists – even supermodels take maternity leave.
Katrina Radha stepped out of the cab, her eyes wide with amazement. After purchasing a ticket, she entered the venue and took it all in. She spied a distinguished man in a fashionable blue suit. He wore a credential around his neck.
“Excuse me, sir. I wonder if there are any openings for models this week.”
The man looked at her like she was something disgusting he’d scraped from the bottom of his shoe. “Little lady,” he said with an affected accent, “This is not a reality television show. The runway schedule has been set for months.”
Katrina approached a spectacularly tall, luminescent woman in a red gown – had to be a model. The woman was engaged in an animated conversation with a gentleman.
“Why?” the woman said.
“What do you mean, why?” the man answered.
“I don’t know. Josh, if I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”
The man, Josh, took an “it’s now or never” deep breath. “Because… I’m falling for you.”
“Come again?” red dress asked.
“I’m falling in love with you.” Josh took a step back as if fearful the woman would hit him.
The woman had closed her eyes.
“Laura are you okay?”
“No, not at all.” She swallowed. “Josh, you have no idea what you just did to me.”
“Tell me.”
“You can’t fall in love with me. You know about my plans; you know how much I gave up to be here.”
“I know, but you cannot say no to love.”
“Yes. Yes, I can, Josh. I need more time.”
“So, I have to stop loving you until you deem it appropriate?”
Laura let out a hollow, mechanical laugh. “No, but I am telling you I am not ready for this.”
“No, you obviously aren’t.”
Katrina felt sorry for these two people she’d never met.
“Then, I’m gone,” Josh said. He turned and walked to the door.
Katrina followed him with her eyes.
“Don’t judge me.” It was Laura.
Katrina started. “You talking to me?” she asked.
“Gotta talk to someone. That guy’s been with me for the last three years. All fun and games and today of all days, he asks me to marry him.”
The nerve, Katrina thought with sarcasm. But, she said, “I’m sorry.” Then, she added, “Are you a model?”
“Laura Vinson,” the woman said extending her hand. “Been doing this for about six years.”
“I want to.”
“Want to what?
“Be a model.”
“You just saw what is costs, right?
“Don’t care – it’s my dream.”
“It was mine until about five minutes ago.”
“Why don’t you go after him?”
“And give up all this?” Laura swept her hand around in an exaggerated sweep. “All this glamor?”
Katrina nodded.
“Not now. Dear, to be honest, I’m just tired. My heart aches, my head hurts, and I’m feeling older than ever right this moment. I thought this was all I ever wanted. It’d be hard to punt right now.”
“Okay.”
&
nbsp; Laura headed for the door – probably the dressing room.
“Laura,” Katrina said. “I didn’t mean to cause any pain.”
“You didn’t do a thing, kid,” Laura said. “Remember – this is everything I ever wanted.”
So, that’s what I want to do – really?
***
Katrina wandered out of the building and onto the sidewalk. She felt like she’d been hit in the head. She was questioning everything. It was like finding out there was no Santa – the curtain had been peeled back – she’d seen the ugliness.
She turned the corner.
“Watch it!”
She braced for the collision that never came. The bike stopped three inches from her leg.
“Sorry,” the young man on the bike said. “But, you really need to pay attention. Especially around here.”
“It’s okay.” Katrina smiled. “You’re right. I was daydreaming a little. I’m fine.”
“I’m Jimmy, by the way, Jimmy Nolan.”
“Katrina Radha,” the young girl said shyly. “Nice to meet you.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked with a friendly smile. “Wait! You must be one of the models. Who are you wearing this week - Valentino or Dolce and Gabbana?”
Katrina laughed at his enthusiasm, already feeling better than she had a few moments earlier. “I wish,” she said sadly, and explained, “I came here to sign up as a model, but unfortunately, I was too late.”
“Really?” Jimmy looked surprised. “Did they look at you? I can’t imagine passing on you.”
Katrina felt her face warm a little. “That’s either very sweet or the lamest line I’ve ever heard.”
Jimmy stepped back, hands to his chest. “I swear on my grandmother, it’s not a line. You’re stunning. You could stand in for Aishwarya Rai or Padma Lakkshemi and no one would miss a beat.”
“You are very knowledgeable. Are you in the industry?”
“No … not yet. He held up his camera bag. Aspiring photographer.”
“I am sure you will succeed,” Katrina said.
They walked down the street, Jimmy guiding his bike along as they strolled. “I’ve been taking pictures since I was a little kid. Even when I didn’t have a real camera, I played make believe. Now I have thousands of shots – all sorts of people and situations, but fashion really fascinates me – not sure why.”
“Probably all the pretty women.”
Jimmy laughed. “Not completely off base, but there’s something about the creativity … the willingness of people to lay themselves out in the open … to say, ‘I think this is good and you should wear it’ … that boldness really gets me.”
“Your job sounds really interesting,” Katrina said. “My life, on the other hand, is very boring. I was hoping to have some fun at the fashion convention, but now all I want is to get back to my hotel.”
“Wait,” Jimmy said. “I’m a photographer who wants to enter a photography competition but doesn’t have a model. You’re a model who wants to work but doesn’t have a job. Isn’t it perfect? You can be my model!”
“What?” Katrina asked, really surprised by his offer. “But, we don’t have any access to the shows and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“It doesn’t matter; the competition isn’t about the clothes, but about the model and the work of the photographer. If you give me a chance, I can make you famous.”
“But, where are we going to have the photo session?” Katrina asked again.
“Here,” Jimmy pointed at the venue. “We’ll have the session in front of the convention hall. What could be more original than this?”
“I don’t know …”
“Please, Katrina.” Jimmy knew it sounded like he was begging … because he was. “You have to help me … we have to help each other.
“Okay, but you have to work fast, because I have to be home soon,” she said.
The photo session took about two hours, but they worked well together. The longer they worked, the closer they felt – a bond – an attachment – an attraction between two artists. Jimmy liked the natural beauty of the girl and her simple, honest character, while Katrina greatly enjoyed Jimmy’s skill and the way he brought out her inner “fierce” – he liked the word – diva.
By the end of the session, they were good friends, and even decided to take a tour of the rest of the convention together. Jimmy told her a lot about his life and dreams. Katrina talked about her ambition but was a little ambivalent about personal stuff. When Jimmy asked, “Where are you from?” she answered, “Out of town.”
-10-
The end of the day came too quickly, and Jimmy was sorry to say goodbye. “I had a very good time with you,” he said. “I got some good stuff, I think. I’m heading home to develop the shots. Where can I find you when they are ready?”
“I … I …” Katrina stuttered, avoiding his eyes. “Maybe we could meet here again tomorrow?” she offered after a while.
Jimmy looked at her, surprised. The young woman had been so friendly only a few minutes before, and he couldn’t understand what had changed now. He was hoping for some contact information, but Katrina never moved in that direction.
“Okay,” he said. “I will be here every day – should be easy to find.” Then, he added, “If you want.”
Katrina’s training kicked in – Don’t tell too much to too many. She knew how often people had made attempts on her father’s life. She knew how to keep her mouth shut. She pecked Jimmy on the cheek. “I’ll find you,” she said.
“Wait,” he said. “Let me get you a cab. There’s one right over there.” He held his hand up, “Taxi!”
The light on top flashed and the cab slowly rolled toward them. Jimmy opened the door. “See you soon,” he said. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. She smiled and lowered her head.
She settled in the car and arranged her dress elegantly. As the door closed, Jimmy noticed the driver, young, African-American, ball cap, hoodie – not a typical cabbie – and it was hot. The driver made no eye contact and offered no greeting. Just as Jimmy was about to say something, someone shoved him out of the way. Jimmy heard, “Go, go, go,” as the intruder piled in on top of a screaming Katrina and slammed the door.
The cab shot into the street,
“Hey, stop! Somebody stop that car!” Jimmy was frantic.
The crowd joined in – mocking. “Follow that cab.” “To the Batmobile.” “Damsel in distress.”
Jimmy looked at the crowd and shook his head. “Assclowns … every one of you!”
***
Ninety minutes later, the chloroform wore off and Katrina slowly came to – her head felt like a throbbing bowling ball.
“Rise and shine, honey.”
She could not see anything other than a thin band just below the edge of her blindfold. Every movement echoed.
Warehouse, she thought.
Despite the pain in her head, Katrina turned in the direction of the voice.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Radha. Nice to see you are none the worse for wear.”
Her voice was a raw croak, “What do you want from me?”
The man ignored her question.
“Do you know what it is to be born poor?” he asked. He tapped his foot waiting for an answer. “Some call it bad luck … some punishment … some, the will of the gods … some attribute it to the sins of your ancestors.” He paused. Katrina could feel the danger radiating off the man she could not see.
“At first, you think it will get better, but then reality hits and finally you realize you will never get out of the financial shit-hole you occupy because you will never find a big enough shovel.”
The voice got louder – he was leaning over. “You, Ms. Radha, are my shovel. You are going to get me out of poverty.”
“But, how … how … can I do that?”
“I’ll tell you, don’t worry. But, first, you have to tell m
e more about your family. I want to know everything there is to be known about you and your father.”
“Who are you? And why are you doing this?”
“I am the instructor here, Ms. Radha. I ask the questions. All I want from you is that you answer my questions and stay calm. If you do that, I can promise you that in no time you will be back home.”
“Calm down? You took me by force, tied me up, brought me here, and now you want me calm?”
The man laughed. She heard retreating footsteps.
“Catch you later, Ms. Katrina Radha.”
The situation was bad, but Katrina knew it could be a lot worse. The man had not said anything about the Summit.
But, as best she could tell, whatever was happening wasn’t political.
***
Jimmy had taken a series of pictures or the departing vehicle, then jumped on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could, but the car disappeared in the distance. Since no one came to help him, he found the nearest precinct house.
“Help you?” The desk sergeant looked anything but helpful.
“I need to report a kidnapping.”
“Name of the vic?”
“Katrina,” Jimmy said. “I don’t know her last name.”
“Description?”
“Five foot, six. Slight build. Great cheekbones. Indian or Pakistani descent. Black hair – black eyes.”
“That narrows it down, buddy,” the officer said. “We should have her back in (he looked at his watch) fifteen minutes or so.”
“This is serious,” Jimmy said.
“No doubt. Take a seat.”
Jimmy sat. Two hours later, he was still sitting.
A voice to his left said, “What are you in for?”
A short man with a pockmarked face waved at Jimmy. “Name’s Simpson,” he said.
Jimmy shook his hand. “I’m not arrested. Trying to report a crime.”
“They don’t care about us,” Simpson said. “They don’t care about anyone. Protect and serve, my ass. What did you see?”
“Kidnapping,” Jimmy said. “Happened right in front of me. It was…”
Family Ties Mystery Series Box Set Page 29