“Mr. Kahana was a guest at my hotel.”
Your hotel? thought Nicki.
Newman directed his gaze squarely at Nicki. “Now I have a question for you. What are you doing here?” he asked. Before Nicki could answer, Margo jumped in.
“She’s going to be taking lessons from him. When he’s better. She’s learning self-defense.”
I wish she hadn’t said that, thought Nicki.
“Okay,” said the nurse, “everyone must leave now.”
They all strolled toward the elevator. Newman got on, but Nicki stopped Margo before she could enter.
“Wait, Margo,” she said, “I left my wallet in your locker!”
“Locker?”
The door shut on Newman.
“What are you talking about?” asked Margo.
“I want to speak to the nurse again.”
The girls headed back to the reception area.
“Excuse me,” said Nicki, “but that man who just left—Mr. Newman—does he come by here often? To ask about Mr. Kahana?”
“I’m sorry,” said the nurse. “I can’t give out that kind of information.” She returned to her desk.
“She can’t, but I will,” whispered Margo as they walked away. “I’ve seen him here quite a few times. And yes, he’s always inquiring about Mr. Kahana’s condition.”
“I thought so,” said Nicki.
Chapter Fourteen
“Margo,” said Nicki, raising her voice so she could be heard over the music, “this is T’ai Soong and his friend, Duncan MacDonald.”
“Mac,” replied the engineering student. He smiled at Margo and, wasting no time, asked her to dance.
T’ai showed Nicki to their table. “You look nice,” he said.
“I feel ridiculous,” she replied. “Anyway, Mac seems to be in a better mood tonight.”
“Yeah, I guess. Still not the guy I grew up with though. Believe it or not, he used to be a lot of fun.”
“He’s changed.”
“Oh, for sure. Like today—he got rid of his cell phone. And when I asked him why, he said they’re too easily tapped into.” T’ai rolled his eyes. “He told me that with the right equipment, it’s possible to remotely activate the microphone, even when a call is not being made, to listen to nearby conversations.”
“I guess he’d know.”
“Right, but when I joked with him and asked him what he had to hide, he got furious.” T’ai shrugged. “It’s as if he’s lost his sense of humor.”
Mac and Margo appeared behind T’ai.
“Who’s lost their sense of humor?”
“You.”
“You’re a jerk.” Mac took Margo by the arm, then turned to Nicki. “Your friend is a terrific dancer,” he said, leading her back to the floor.
“See what I mean?” said T’ai. Then he looked at Nicki. “I’m sorry. Did you want to dance?”
“Not really. It’s not my thing,” she replied. “You don’t have to sit here with me, though. I’m happy to watch.”
“I don’t feel like dancing either.”
“Thinking about your uncle?”
“He goes through my mind all the time. I put in another call to the Massachusetts state police today, but they can’t tell me anything. Or won’t.” T’ai stood up. “I think I’ll get a soda. What can I get you?”
“Sparkling water would be great, thanks.”
Nicki looked around while T’ai was gone. Circling the club, she scanned everyone on the dance floor and at the tables.
She watched as Mac and Margo moved across the floor. Dancing and talking, they were oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. And not only by Nicki.
Just outside the washrooms, two young men in black leather never took their eyes off Mac. And across from them, in an alcove near the fire exit, stood an older man, watching everything from behind dark sunglasses. He didn’t remove them until Mac and Margo left the floor.
Peter Byron!
Nicki returned to the table.
“Where were you?” asked Margo. “And why aren’t you dancing?” She waved to some friends of hers across the aisle.
T’ai came back, carrying the drinks. He passed Nicki her water.
“Aren’t you going to ask Yin to dance?” Margo gave T’ai a nudge.
“I did.” He sat down. “Anyway, who wants to compete with you two?”
“Where did Mac go?” Nicki asked.
“I don’t know,” said Margo. “He was here a minute ago.”
She twisted around and saw him talking with the disc jockey.
“Just a second,” she said, and headed there herself.
“T’ai,” said Nicki, “I saw Byron.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure it was him.”
“Why would he be hanging out here, I wonder.”
“I don’t know, but”—she looked up and over T’ai’s head—“here he comes.”
“May I join you?”
“Sure.” T’ai pushed out a chair with his foot.
“Mac here?” asked Byron.
“Yes,” said Nicki. But you already knew that.
“He’s requesting a song,” said T’ai, pointing to Mac and Margo. “Here he comes now.”
“You guys are no fun,” said Margo. “Who can resist this one?” she asked, while “I Will Survive” blasted across the club.
“Your selection, Mac?” asked T’ai caustically. Mac ignored him and swung past the table with Margo in tow.
Nicki followed Byron’s gaze to the washroom, and to the two guys in black leather. One of them, who appeared to be Chinese, pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to the other, a blond, who left the room to make a call.
“Friends of yours?” asked Nicki.
Byron didn’t reply.
The blond returned, signaled the other guy, and the two bounced onto the dance floor and headed straight for Mac.
Byron jumped up.
“What’s going on?” asked T’ai.
The two guys grabbed Mac and dragged him to the fire exit door. Margo stood in horror as one of them pulled out a knife and forced Mac outside.
Nicki ran after them.
They threw Mac against the wall.
“Come on, Quon,” said Mac. “Give me another couple of days.”
“Your time’s up, pal,” said Quon. “Pay me now, or you’re history. Understand?” He punched Mac in the face. “Your turn, Phil,” he said with a smirk.
Phil held the knife under Mac’s neck, then kneed him hard in the stomach. Mac fell to the ground. Quon picked him up and punched him again. “You’re all out of options, MacDonald. Give me the money or we’ll use the blade.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Nicki deftly kicked the knife out of Phil’s hand, then shoved it with her foot so it slid underneath a parked van. “Let him go.”
Quon laughed. “Why should I?”
Before Nicki could reply, the fire exit door flew open and two bouncers muscled out. T’ai and Margo were with them. They tried to get Mac to his feet, but he was coughing blood.
Quon had the last word.
“We’ll be seeing you, MacDonald. You can count on it.”
Nicki trailed them for several blocks, across intersections, down a side street, and through a park. They turned down a narrow alley that ran behind a row of older buildings, then into the back entrance of a run-down, two-story apartment house.
Nicki made her way down the alley. She wanted to follow them inside, but looked down at her dress.
Oh, I can’t do anything in this, she thought.
By the time she’d made it back to the club, T’ai and Margo had ice on Mac’s eye. The three of them were s
itting on the ground with their backs against the brick building.
“Yin!” cried Margo.
“I know where they live,” said Nicki.
“Who cares?” She threw her arms around Nicki.
“Thanks for what you did,” mumbled Mac.
“He won’t let me take him to the hospital,” said Margo. “I’m worried about internal bleeding.”
“Look, I can’t go,” said Mac. “They’ll call the police, and if they do, I’m a dead man.”
“What do these guys have on you?” asked T’ai.
Mac wouldn’t answer.
“Come on, Mac. I’m your best friend,” T’ai pleaded. “Why are they after you?”
Mac stared at the ground.
“Okay, that’s it,” declared T’ai. “I’ve had it with you. And this time, I mean it.” He got up and left.
“You know,” said Mac, watching his best friend walk away, “I wish they had killed me.” He coughed several times. “Life isn’t worth living anymore.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I don’t know how Ellen managed to get today off,” said Dolores, as she and Nicki filled their cleaning cart with supplies. “I hate working on Saturday, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Nicki. “Especially when it’s so nice outside.”
“Too hot for me.”
“I don’t mind the heat,” said Nicki. “I like to run first thing in the morning, though, before the worst of it sets in.”
“You’re ambitious. I drag myself out of bed, drink two or three cups of coffee, and convince myself that I’m going to win the lottery.” She laughed. “Ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
They pulled the cart into the service elevator, got off on the fourth floor, and knocked at 401.
“Housekeeping. Anybody there?” When nobody answered, Dolores put her key card in the slot. “I knew he wouldn’t be here, but I always follow the rules.”
“You knew who wouldn’t be here?”
“The manager.”
“This is Trent Newman’s room?” asked Nicki.
“Yep,” replied Dolores. “Which is why I always follow the rules.” She knocked again, then opened the door and went inside. Nicki took a wet rag and started to clean the safe. While wiping it off with one hand, she tried to open it with the other.
It was locked.
She waited for Dolores to go into the washroom, then used the override key.
The safe was empty.
“How long has Newman lived here?” asked Nicki when Dolores returned.
“Not long at all,” she replied. “He moved out of his apartment recently. He’s staying here until he finds a new place, I guess.”
“Ever find anything interesting in here?” Nicki pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them onto a cart in the hall.
“Nothing more interesting than wine bottles.” She helped Nicki stretch the fitted sheet onto the mattress. “And Spam.”
“Yeah,” said Nicki, “he does love his Spam.”
Dolores fluffed the pillows and put on new cases.
“There was one weird thing,” said Dolores.
“What?”
“A Mandarin dictionary.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What would he want with a Chinese dictionary?”
When Nicki finished her shift at five-thirty that afternoon, she found T’ai waiting by the main desk.
“I figured you’d be around here somewhere,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for taking off last night. I wasn’t mad at you.”
“I know,” replied Nicki. “And I don’t blame you for being frustrated with Mac.” She looked around the lobby. “Since you’re here, do you want to help me with something?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I want to search the manager’s office.”
“You think this guy’s involved?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled out her mother’s override key and opened the door to Newman’s office.
“Where did you get that?” asked T’ai.
“Who cares? Point is, I have it.”
T’ai shut the door quietly behind them.
“We’ll have to work fast,” Nicki said.
She switched on the desktop computer. “I don’t see his laptop around here, do you?”
“No, just the hotel computer,” answered T’ai. “How did you get the access password to this thing anyway?”
“I work here, remember?”
T’ai sat down and started opening files.
“What, exactly, am I hacking into here?”
Nicki started searching through CDs in a case behind his desk. “I need to find the surveillance footage of the eighth-floor hallway on the night David Kahana was knifed— Wednesday night, around eight-thirty or so. I need to know who entered his room from that time on.”
T’ai clicked away, and Nicki watched over his shoulder. “I know Newman’s connected. I just don’t know how.”
They shoved discs in and out of the computer until they came to surveillance footage of Wednesday night.
“Look at that,” said Nicki. “It’s been erased.”
“How can you tell?” asked T’ai.
“The time stamp doesn’t match up. Look here.” She replayed the tape. “Nothing but an empty hallway, except for the odd person with a suitcase coming on or off the elevator. But notice how the counter stops at ten thirteen, then starts again fifteen minutes later. Enough time for Newman to go upstairs, walk through the hall, enter the room, and return to his office.”
“For sure,” said T’ai.
“Nobody else but Newman has access to these tapes.”
Nicki thought for a minute. “What about the record of room 813? Was it opened on Wednesday night around that time?”
T’ai found the files for the rooms.
“Yes.” He pointed to the screen. “The universal key opened Mr. Kahana’s door at ten nineteen.”
“So Newman erased the videotape of himself, but not the record of the entry.” Nicki looked at T’ai. “Maybe there’s no way to erase that.”
T’ai shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know. Mac could tell you.” He leaned back. “But I don’t want his help.”
Nicki didn’t comment.
“So,” continued T’ai, “Newman had time to stick the fake vase in the safe. But so what?” He got up. “We can’t prove anything.”
“Not yet,” said Nicki.
She sat down at the computer and started searching for downloaded files that might help.
“Just hotel records, documents, payments. Nothing interesting,” she mumbled.
Then she found something.
“Look at this,” she said. “In his e-mail program—his list of contacts.” She ran her finger down the screen and pointed to a name.
“Peter Byron?” T’ai shrugged. “They know each other?”
Nicki heard something moving outside the door and gestured to T’ai.
“What do we do now?” he whispered. He opened the door a tiny bit. “There’s a man out there. I don’t know who he is. He’s talking to the concierge.”
Nicki looked out.
“That’s Newman!” she said. She snapped off the computer.
“Now what?” asked T’ai.
Nicki spotted a first aid kit and yanked it off the wall.
“Get down on the floor,” she said, “and follow my lead.”
The door opened.
Newman looked at Nicki. Then at T’ai. Then at Nicki again.
“Nobody—and I mean nobody—enters this office when I am not here! This is the end of the line for you. I’m not kidding.”
“I can’t talk now,” she sa
id, slapping the sides of T’ai’s face. “Quick,” she told Newman. “Look in there. Do you have something to revive him?” She pushed the first aid kit toward him. Everything spilled out onto the floor, including a half-used bottle of iodine.
“What happened to him?” Newman tried to stop the iodine from flowing out of the bottle.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He just collapsed. His pulse is weak. Help me, please.”
“Did you call 911?” he asked.
Nicki couldn’t think up an answer fast enough. She pinched T’ai, and he opened his eyes and coughed.
“Wha…what happened?”
“You were feeling ill, sir. I brought you into Mr. Newman’s office to get first aid, but you passed out. Can you stand up now?”
T’ai slowly got to his feet.
“Are you…all right?” Newman asked.
“I think it’s the heat. I…I just need some water.”
Nicki supported T’ai, and the two staggered out of the office.
Newman slammed the door shut.
T’ai rubbed his cheeks.
“Did you have to be so convincing?”
Chapter Sixteen
“Fenwick? Where are you, Fenwick?” Nicki called from outside the subway station on her way to the university residence. After several attempts, she left a message.
“Fenwick, I won’t be back in time for dinner tonight. It’s already past six, and I’m on my way downtown.” She went to click off the phone, then spoke again. “Where are you, anyway? I’ve called a dozen times.”
“I’m here, Miss.” The butler was out of breath. “I’ve just returned home from the market. I found some lovely champignons.” She could hear bags rustling in the background.
“How about tomorrow night?” asked Nicki.
“Splendid,” said Fenwick.
Nicki walked across campus to the building that housed Mac’s room. Two girls her age stopped her to ask directions to the English department, where orientation for the upcoming fall semester was about to take place.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you,” admitted Nicki.
“That’s okay, we’ll find it.” The first girl opened up a folder to check a map of the campus.
The Scratch on the Ming Vase Page 6