by Joel Goldman
“I’d like that,” Cassie said.
She looked around the garden a last time, searching for the man in the trees but there was no sign of him. She kept a close watch around them as they started back.
They were on Eversholt St. when she glanced over her shoulder and saw the man that had been hiding in the trees following them. He was on the other side of the road, a block behind. Same long coat. Same hat, now pulled down over his brow so she couldn’t see his face. A trio of trucks and buses passed them, cutting off the man’s view. She tugged on Sarah’s arm and hustled her onto a side street, using the distraction to lift Sarah’s phone from her coat pocket.
“What are you doing? That’s not the right way,” Sarah said.
“It is now. We’re being followed.”
Sarah swiveled her head around. “By whom? Where is he?”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t look back. Pick up the pace.”
They zig-zagged from one side-street to another, cutting across parking lots until they were standing at the mouth of an alley that opened onto Ossulston Street across from the Library. Cassie scanned the plaza in front of the entrance but didn’t see the man.
“Okay, let’s go. Be quick but don’t hurry.”
When they were through the entrance, Cassie looked back across the plaza. The man was coming toward them at a brisk clip, head up, hat pushed back. She wasn’t surprised. He must have known where they were going and didn’t care what route they took. She lingered a moment longer to see his face.
“It’s Murdoch. I don’t have time for him,” Cassie said, handing Sarah the briefcase. “Go to your office.”
“Where are you going?”
“Better you don’t know so you don’t have to lie when Murdoch knocks on your door.”
“What shall I tell him?”
“Anything you want as long as it isn’t about me or the Magna Cartas.”
Cassie caught an elevator going down and Sarah caught one going up, doors closing as Murdoch marched into the Library.
***
SARAH WAS STUDYING her computer screen, her back to her open door when Murdoch arrived.
“Where is she?” Murdoch said, without knocking.
Sarah swiveled her chair around. “Good day to you, too, Inspector. Are you going to keep popping up out of nowhere the entire day? I shall have my assistant put you on my schedule.”
“You can save your innocent act for another time. Where is Cassie Ireland?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know? The two of you walked to the Rose Garden in Regents Park and met with a man who gave you that briefcase,” Murdoch said, pointing to the one standing next to Sarah’s desk, “and then you came back here not five minutes ago.”
Sarah stood, hands on her hips. “You’ve no right to harass me. Who I take a walk with is none of your concern.”
Murdoch paused, then said, “Have you ever seen a dead body?”
Sarah did a double-take. “What a terrible thing to say.”
Murdoch opened his phone. “It’s even worse to see,” he said and showed her a photograph of a dead man lying in a pool of blood. Sarah gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “His name is Roger Higgins. He was shot to death a couple of days ago in a warehouse in the Limehouse District.” Murdoch scrolled to another bloody photograph. “And, this is Lionel Kent. He was also murdered at the warehouse.”
Sarah turned away. “Why are you showing me those awful photos?”
“Because we suspect Cassie Ireland and Jake Carter murdered these men.”
Sarah stiffened her jaw. “They did not.”
“How can you be so certain? Did Cassie tell you that?”
Sarah hesitated, stammering, struggling with how much to tell Murdoch. “Yes. I spoke to her by phone the other night, after you barged into the Trustees meeting.”
“And you believed her?”
“Of course, what reason would I have not to?”
“We have video putting her and Jake Carter inside the warehouse at the time of the murders. Did you tell her that the police were looking for her?”
Sarah sucked in a breath and twisted her fingers into a knot. “Yes. I…thought she should know.”
“And if she was innocent, wouldn’t you have expected her to go to the police to clear her name?”
“I…I suppose…I don’t know about such things.”
“Did she tell you that Jake Carter works for Global Security?”
“Yes.”
“Because he doesn’t. I checked. They’ve never heard of him. The man is a gambler. He plays cards for a living. Cassie lied to you. What other lies has she told you?” Sarah didn’t answer. “Where is she?”
“I told you. I don’t know. I left her downstairs. She didn’t tell me where she was going.”
Murdoch sucked in a breath, studying Sarah. “I’d like to see what’s inside that briefcase. You can force me to get a magistrate’s search warrant but then I would wonder what you are hiding and why.”
“Fine. If that will cause you to leave me alone.” She laid the briefcase flat on her desk, turning the front of it toward Murdoch. “Help yourself.”
Murdoch opened it and rifled through Sarah’s files on an upcoming exhibit of Gutenberg bibles.
“Mrs. St. James, you have a responsible position, one of trust, and a promising career. Be certain of whose side you are on before you throw all of that away.”
“I know whose side I’m on, Inspector.”
Murdoch buttoned his coat. “That’s what troubles me because there’s one other thing I know about you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Murdoch said.
FIFTY-EIGHT
AFTER TRESCH AND CASSIE LEFT Tresch’s plane, Dekker cuffed Jake and Gabriel to their seats. Twice, he gave them something to eat and let them use the bathroom one at a time. In the early hours of Friday morning, he marched them off the plane and into a panel van, hands cuffed behind their backs and black woolen bags over their heads. After an hour-long drive, he let them out, looped a rope around their waists and tugged them along like reluctant cattle into a creaky elevator that descended in jerky fits and starts before stopping with a thud.
From there, Dekker put them into a windowless, dank room made of concrete. He untied them and removed their hoods but not their handcuffs and left, locking the steel-plated door behind him.
A lone fluorescent tube bracketed onto the ceiling flickered, casting pale light across the floor. Jake blinked, until his eyes adjusted to the near darkness, then paced off the dimensions - ten steps from the door to the far wall and eight steps side to side. Scraps of wire and bits of chipped concrete had collected in the corners. Before Jake could take a closer look, the ceiling light turned off. A faint glow from the adjoining room leaked in through gaps in the seal around the edges of the door.
“Fuck you, Dekker,” he said.
Jake was drained, the adrenaline rush from their near escape long past, but he couldn’t sleep. It would be daylight in a few hours, though he wouldn’t know it. Across the room, Gabriel sat on the floor, back to the wall, head leaning on his shoulder. His wound had continued to leak during the flight, convincing Jake that it wasn’t as minor an injury as Cassie had suggested. He asked Gabriel how he was feeling. Gabriel said he was doing fine but the irritation in his voice told Jake he was lying and not to ask again.
“Where do you think we are?” Jake said.
Gabriel raised his head and struggled to clear his throat. “When Dekker put us on that lift, I counted the seconds until we hit bottom. Based on that, I’d say we’re twenty or thirty feet below street level. It had a musty smell and it rode like a bucket dropped into a well. It reminded me of one I rode going down into a mine. Wherever we are, it’s someplace that hasn’t been used in a long time. No one is going to wander by and offer us a ride home.”
“Probably an abandoned tube station like the one you guys used.”
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“I don’t think so. Trains run close to most of those discarded lines. We’d be able to hear them or we’d at least feel the vibrations. There must have been a business on the surface that needed underground storage. It could even have been used as an air raid shelter during World War II.”
Jake said, “We have to be close to where Cassie is supposed to bring the Codex to Tresch.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because Cassie will demand to see us before she hands over the Codex to make sure we’re still alive.”
“She is a formidable woman.”
Jake knew this wasn’t the best time to try to sort out Gabriel’s relationship with Cassie but also knew he might not get another chance.
“She’s still in love with you.”
Gabriel shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s you she loves.”
That was the last thing Jake expected Gabriel to say. He wanted to believe him but Cassie hadn’t given him any reason he should.
“I don’t think so. Not since she found out you were alive.”
“Too much time has passed for us and she knows that I’m not the man I was. I’ve seen how she looks at you when you’re not aware. She used to look at me the same way, but no more.”
“It won’t matter which one of us is right unless we can get out of here. You’re the master thief. You must have broken into places more secure than this. Can’t you get us out of here?”
Gabriel chuckled. “I may be weak and wounded but I haven’t forgotten how to do my job.” He leaned over onto his side and began to squirm.
“What are you doing?”
Jaw clenched against the pain in his leg, Gabriel pulled his hands from behind him and under his feet and up to his chest, then, breathing hard, he sat upright, feet stretched out in front of him.
“Okay, your turn.”
Jake dropped to the floor and repeated Gabriel’s maneuver, then jumped to his feet. “Now how do we get out of these plastic cuffs?”
“Position the locks above your thumbs and center them between your hands, then use your teeth to tighten the cuffs as much as you can.”
“Tighten them? I thought you were going to tell me how to get them off,” Jake said.
“Just do it.”
Jake wiggled his wrists, maneuvering the locks. Then he bit each strap and yanked as hard as he could. The cuffs pinched his wrists but didn’t release. “Well that worked great.”
Gabriel said, “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
“Hey, don’t blame me, Houdini. Your trick didn’t work but at least now I can scratch my nose instead of my ass.”
“Good for you. Now pay attention. Raise your hands as high above your head as you can, then flare your elbows out and squeeze your shoulder blades together.”
Jake followed his instructions. “Okay. And, for my next trick…what?”
“This is the important part. Slam your hands into your stomach, belt high.”
“You want me to punch myself in the belly? Why? Because you can’t?”
“Stop arguing and just do it if you want to get out of here. As hard and as quick as you can.”
Jake shook his head. “Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath and slugged himself. “Ooof!” Bent over, he grunted as air rushed out from his lungs. “Oh, shit. I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing that. I’ll bet you’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely. Now do it again,” Gabriel said. “Harder and quicker.”
Jake straightened, raised his hands over his head and gut-punched himself again. This time, the impact drove his wrists outward, snapping the locks on the cuffs. Laughing, Jake held his hands up.
“Un-fucking believable. That really worked. You’re next.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I’m too weak. I won’t be of much use, but you…you, my friend, are both annoying and resourceful.”
“Thanks. I guess that means you’re not going to kill me.”
“Ah, I would have very much liked to keep that promise, but, to my regret, conditions have changed and we have to adapt if we are to survive. Now let’s have a look at that door. Help me up.”
FIFTY-NINE
CASSIE SAW MURDOCH for an instant before the elevator door closed as he studied the Library lobby looking for her and Sarah. She knew he wouldn’t find either of them and expected him to head straight to Sarah’s office. When he realized that Sarah wouldn’t or couldn’t tell him where to find her, he’d consider her next move. Would she risk being spotted on the street by a cop or a camera or would she hide somewhere in the Library until she could slip out under cover of darkness. Either way, he’d be waiting for her. There was a third option, one Cassie counted on him to ignore – that she’d do neither.
She had twenty-four hours to steal the Codex Leicester and deliver it to Tresch. Having recovered her share of fine art and rare books, she knew that the Codex would have been shipped in a case like the one Tresch had used for the Magna Cartas. The case would have been shipped to the Library in a custom-designed wooden crate. The crate wouldn’t be locked because it would have been shipped in specially designed containers transported by secure vehicles.
If the Codex was still in the crate, it would be easy to steal. All she would need is a pry bar. If it had been unpacked and placed inside a vault, it could just as well be on Mars. Wherever it was, she would have to pull the job off under the watchful eyes of the Library’s cameras and under the noses of the guards roaming the grounds.
The Library’s computer network would tell her where to find the Codex. She’d have to figure out the rest on the fly. She assumed that the guards had been told to watch for her. If she stayed off the public floors, there was a decent chance that she wouldn’t run into any of them.
Using Sarah’s keycard, Cassie took the elevator to Basement Level One where the Facilities and Maintenance departments were located. She kept her head down and away from the surveillance cameras, making it harder for the guards monitoring the video feeds to recognize her.
She passed a cafeteria filled with people having lunch which meant there were empty offices nearby. Turning down another corridor, she slipped into a vacant office and closed and locked the door. The nameplate on the desk said the office belonged to Philip Wiley, Facilities Manager. There was a photograph of a smiling couple on the wall. She had passed the man in the hall before he went into the cafeteria. It was Wiley and the woman was probably his wife. She hoped he took a long lunch.
She logged on to Wiley’s computer using the credentials Ian Thorpe had given her. A Google search told her that the Codex was composed of eighteen sheets of paper, about twelve by seventeen inches each, with writing and illustrations on both sides. When Leonardo da Vinci wrote the manuscript in the 16th century, the pages were folded in half and bound to create a 72-page book. More than four hundred years later, the volume had been unbound, returning it to its original eighteen pages. Photographs of Bill Gates’ display of the Codex after he bought it for thirty million dollars depicted each page mounted between panes of clear glass. When transported, the pages were sealed in protective covers like those used with the Magna Cartas. Easy enough for Cassie to conceal.
Next, she searched the Acquisitions department’s records. The Codex Leicester had arrived the day before at the loading bay at the north end of the Library before being moved to the Centre for Conservation where rare masterpieces were preserved and safeguarded when not on display. The tracking number the Library had assigned to the Codex began with the numerical month, day and year followed by the letters HB and five digits, 87143. She memorized the number.
The Centre was in a separate building connected at ground level to the main Library by a wide public terrace. A quick check of the design schematics revealed a corridor on Basement Level Two running from the loading bay to the Centre.
The schematics didn’t include any information regarding security. Sarah’s keycard might open any locked doors but it wouldn’t blind cam
eras, disable motion sensors or open vaults. She searched the Library’s network for more information, getting excited when she found a folder labeled Security only to discover that it was password protected. She needed to do more digging but was afraid that Wiley would start knocking on his locked door any minute. She logged off his computer and left.
Going back the way she came, Cassie stopped at a door marked Women’s Changing Room. Ducking inside, she rifled through several lockers until she found a security guard uniform and stuffed it into a canvas tote bag someone had left on the floor. Two doors down, there was a closet with maintenance supplies where she found coveralls and knee-high rubber boots. She added them to her bag and walked to the elevator with the purposeful stride that said she belonged, ignoring the puzzled looks of the few people she passed.
Cassie took the elevator to Basement Level Five, then headed straight to the utility closet where Jake had discovered the thieves’ shaft into the sewer. There was an assortment of tools on the closet shelves. She chose a pry bar, several screwdrivers, a flat rasp contoured to a blade-like point, a wrench, a pair of pliers, and a wire cutter. She pulled the coveralls and boots out of the bag and replaced them with her jeans, shirt, jacket, shoes and the tools.