“Actually, I already have.” Amy picked up one of the oversized cushions and hugged it to herself as she spoke. “When I came back, I was checking up on the news.”
“Came back?” Bunny’s tone was horrified. “You went out? Are ye fecking mental?”
“Relax,” said Amy. “What was I supposed to do? Sit around waiting for you to come charging in on your big white stallion and save me? Screw that. Where would I be if you hadn’t got your stuff back, or you’d not come back at all or… Well, look at what you just told me. The woman was useless to us. It’s lucky I didn’t sit home.”
Bunny moved across the room. “But what if someone had seen ye?”
“The only person who saw me was the one who was supposed to. I took precautions.”
“Alright, but…”
“Look,” said Amy, “forget that and listen to me.” She pointed at the muted TV. “I’m trying to tell you, I just saw a news conference. The lead detective said that they believe the time of death to have been between 5pm and 8pm yesterday.”
“And?”
“And, you big dummy, I was with you then. You’re my alibi!”
She smiled across at him. Bunny stood there not saying anything.
“I know what you’re going to say – that whoever Matt and his asshole buddies are in league with, they’ve a link to the cops – but, I’ve been thinking. I have a law professor who is pretty cool, we could go to her first. Or, I, umm, happen to know a guy from Channel 8 News. In fact, it was him I went to see.” Amy looked at Bunny expectantly. “You’ve stopped talking. Why have you stopped talking? This is good news! Although it’s been so long since we’ve had any, I can see how it might throw you.” She could hear the giddy energy in her own voice. Finally, after the longest two days of her life, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
When Bunny’s voice re-emerged, it did so quietly. “I can’t.”
“Excuse me?”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you… What?!”
“I told you – I’m here to find someone. That’s the whole reason I’m here. If I walk into a police station or anywhere else and start giving a statement, it’s over. I’m supposed to be here under the radar. That’s the only way it’ll work. If they find out I’m here, that I’m still alive, the whole thing is shot to buggery.”
“What? How can you…”
“I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t.”
He turned and walked over to the window, watching the rain as it hammered down outside.
“Oh,” said Amy, “I see. I’m not the ‘particular woman’ you’re here to save, so I get screwed? Great. Just fucking great!”
“Amy.”
“No, don’t start justifying it. You’ve made your position very clear. You won’t help. You won’t do the one thing you’re good for.”
He turned to look at her. “Amy, you need to calm down.”
She tossed the cushion at him. “Screw you! Ever since I met you, it’s been nothing but shit. You were supposed to help and you haven’t. You’ve just made it worse.”
He barked her name out with such ferocity, it caused her to pause. “Amy! Would you fecking listen to me? Are you sure you weren’t followed?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Amy!”
She glared at him and then spoke slowly, as if speaking to an unruly child. “No, I was not followed.”
“Did you do anything else?”
“What does that matter? Who the fuck put you in charge of me?”
“Amy, for the love of Christ, would you please just answer the question?”
He stood with his back to the window.
She bunched her fists together as she spoke. “Yes, alright. They’ve been hassling my dad, on the…” She waved a hand at the TV. She reacted as Bunny pulled a face. “I’m not stupid. I didn’t call him directly. I called my aunt Crista on the landline and left a message. They can’t trace that.”
“They have.”
“You’re being paranoid. I’m a law major, remember. No judge in the world is going to grant a wiretap on somebody’s entire family tree. I’ve not seen the woman in six years.”
Bunny took a casual sidestep to his left to move to the far side of the window, and then he stood very still as he spoke. “Listen to me now. I think I saw something.”
“Where?”
“Outside. On the billboard opposite. There’s a shape.”
“What do you mean, a shape?”
“I don’t… I can’t say for sure. I didn’t look directly at it – corner of my eye – but I think there’s something up there.”
“Right. Maybe it’s Batman? Is he a friend of yours? Perhaps he can help me? After all, I am a damsel in distress in need of a hero, and you’re taken.”
“Just calm down.”
“You’re full of crap. This is typical male bullshit – you’re losing control of the situation, so you make up some nonsense rather than dealing with the reality of the situation. Patriarchal crap.”
“Please, just—”
Amy stood, jabbing her finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down.” She turned away now, addressing the ceiling. “What the hell am I doing? I’ve allowed my actions to be dictated by some lunatic with no name. What have I been doing, trusting my survival to some drunken fucking idiot who can’t even get his shit together, when I could’ve had Batman?”
“Look. Stay where you are. I’ll go and check—”
Amy twirled around to face him. “No, no need. I’ll just open the window and invite him in.”
She started walking across the loft towards him. Bunny put his hand out.
“Stop! Seriously.”
Amy reached the window and started waving, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Hey, Batman, just…”
She was interrupted by Bunny tackling her to the ground.
“What the—”
Amy stopped talking, her brain registering the strange noise. It had happened a fraction of a second after she’d hit the ground. Then she noticed the pane of double-glazed glass with the hole through it, cracks spiderwebbing out from it.
Bunny rolled over into a coiled crouch. “Stay down.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Shot missed,” said the voice on the laptop.
Miller did not attempt to hide her displeasure as she spoke. “Yes, I can see that, Eagle One. Maintain position and cover the fire escape, if that isn’t too difficult.”
“Text me the address,” said Cole. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“That will not be necessary. Sweep team, you are go.”
Miller hit a button on the laptop and Lola’s bright smile filled the screen. She nodded, then the camera spun around. She appeared to be wearing it on a headset. Cole had used similar kit back in his Special Forces days. Only on certain missions, as on other missions it was very important that there was no record.
The camera jerked as Lola got out of a car. Two men got out of the front seat and quickly strode up the steps ahead of her, into the building and out of the torrential rain. Cole recognised Baxter; the other guy was new to him. With a stocky build and tightly cropped brown hair, though Cole didn’t know him, he could tell what he was. The way he moved as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor told him all he needed to know. Former military.
They reached the door to apartment 406 and flanked it. They could see Lola’s hand come out and signal at the new guy and then at the door.
His whispered voice crackled on the feed. “Fuck that. They know we’re coming. I ain’t going in first.”
Lola’s other hand pointed towards him. The one holding the gun.
“Lola.” Miller’s tone carried a warning.
The new guy looked at Baxter, whose face was filled with fury. Cole guessed that he’d vouched for the newcomer and was now deeply regretting doing so. The new guy shrugged. “Fuck it.”
He took a couple of steps back to build momentum and then delivered a forceful boot to the door. It splintered, but an additional shoulder charge was required to complete the breach. Then the new guy rolled himself through the doorway and up into a crouch. The camera spun around as Lola entered, her gun held double-handed in front of her.
Miller and Cole watched in silence as the three-person team swept through the apartment. The main room was maybe thirty feet long, with a high ceiling. The windows filled the right wall and the kitchen was on the left, stretching down to the dining and living room area, which culminated in a fireplace over which sat a large flat-screen TV. As boltholes went, it wasn’t half bad.
Lola spun to check the left-hand corner behind the door.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Cole, which earned him a withering look from Miller. There was a large stuffed gorilla in the corner, captured in mid roar for all eternity.
Lola turned back and began moving through the apartment efficiently and silently. Baxter checked the open-plan kitchen area before shaking his head. They watched as Lola moved around the couch and checked the fireplace. Nothing behind it but stone – no chimney. A rack of clothes that prominently featured sequins, feathers and fake diamonds lay to one side of the room. Lola swept them before doubling back to the life-sized toy gorilla. She ran her hand across it and then, wordlessly, withdrew a knife and rammed it straight into its guts and then slicing across. Stuffing spilled out onto the floor.
Then she moved down the hallway to the left of the kitchen. The first door on the right led to the bathroom – shower, sink, toilet – a good size by New York standards, but still just enough room to fit two people and certainly nowhere to hide them. The other door opened to reveal a cupboard containing laundry.
That left the final door – the bedroom. Lola entered alone. The camera scanned the room quickly before it jerked as Lola checked behind the door. Then she moved inside the room proper. An old wooden wardrobe sat to the right-hand side; the bed was central, with just a nightstand bearing a lamp to its left. She bobbed left, checking the dead area between the bed and the window, then the screen filled with carpet as Lola silently hit the deck and spun to check under the bed. She was back on her feet a second later. That just left the wardrobe.
She approached it from the side, conscious that anyone in it could be crouched with a gun, waiting for the door to open. She got low and then, in one quick movement, darted her hand out and flung the door open before stepping back.
Nothing happened.
She moved swiftly across and threw open the other door. After a moment, the picture steadied to reveal a wardrobe full of sombre suits and simple shirts. The flamboyant out on display and the mainstream hidden away. Welcome to the Village.
Miller swore under her breath and hit a button on her headset. “Eagle One, can you confirm that there have been no further sightings of the subjects.”
“Negative. I have only seen the sweep team. They’re still in there.”
“Fucking incompetence,” said Miller, although it was unclear who the remark was aimed at. She glanced at Cole, who had the good sense to suppress the smile he felt tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Boss.” It was Baxter addressing Lola.
The picture on the screen jerked as Lola hurried from the bedroom. He was standing to the left side of the room, where he had opened a small cupboard they’d passed by on the initial sweep. It sat only three inches out from the wall and had initially looked like it couldn’t hold anything more interesting that a fuse box.
Once opened, it revealed a chute embedded in the wall.
“Damn it! A dumbwaiter,” said Miller. “Get down to the basement, now.”
The two men rushed past the shattered remains of the apartment’s front door. Lola stayed and looked down the chute, nothing visible but darkness with a hint of light at the end. Then the camera jumped as she climbed in.
She was about to descend when she stopped. Cole had heard it too. In the apartment – movement.
She silently climbed back out of the shaft and into a crouch. She didn’t move, just stayed completely still, listening.
After a few seconds, there it was again: the faintest of movements. On silent feet, Lola padded across to the kitchen area. She ducked low behind the counter and then slowly moved around it. Nothing. There were a couple of cupboards under the counter. Perhaps Baxter had been sloppy.
Lola moved quietly and then, as she had with the wardrobe, leaned across and quickly opened the doors – revealing nothing but pots, pans and a spice rack. She stood back up.
She spun around as she heard the noise again and looked up just in time to see a white shape descend from above.
“Jesus!” said Cole and Miller in perfect harmony.
The camera jerked wildly before Lola fell to the carpet. An animal’s howl mingled with her scream.
They watched as a cat darted away and through the remains of the front door. Feathers flew up from a cushion and a vase shattered as shots from a silenced pistol followed quickly in the feline’s wake.
“Lola!” said Miller into the headset. They could see her feet following towards the front door.
“Lola!” Miller repeated.
They watched the running feet halt and then turn back towards the camera. She picked it up and looked into it. Her previously flawless skin was marred by a large, bloody scratch down the right side of her face.
“Check in on the others and then get out of there.”
Her beautiful face twisted into an ugly snarl but then she seemed to compose herself and gave a curt nod.
Miller slammed the laptop’s lid down and then stood silently, looking out into the New York night as the rain hammered against the window.
“Have you anything to say, Mr Cole?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Very wise.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The rain helped.
It was coming down hard, and the wind swirling between the blocks caused it to cut into your face no matter which way you turned. This meant that Amy, walking hunched over with her hoodie up, looked entirely natural. They’d walked all the way down Seventh Avenue and then cut across to Spring Street, just in case their pursuers were watching the nearby subway stations. The sidewalks were empty bar the occasional hardy soul rushing to be elsewhere. As they’d walked, the gutters had flowed like rivers, carrying wayward crafts of litter. Bunny walked beside her, his coat pulled tight around him, the upturned collar offering scant protection from the elements.
The rain also meant they’d not needed to talk. She was angry at him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a snapshot of the bigger picture fluttered in the breeze, asking to be looked at, but she was refusing. Everything was going wrong. She had lost so much. Right now, she wanted to hold on to her anger at Bunny. It felt like the only thing in her life over which she still had control.
He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the parking garage under the building – at least not to her. All he’d said was that someone who owed him a favour would provide them with somewhere to stay. He’d not known anyone in New York this time yesterday. Still, she didn’t question it. It wasn’t like they had an excess of options. Jonathan’s was gone. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t go to the police. She couldn’t fall asleep in the hope that the waking nightmare of the last few days would indeed turn out to be a bad dream. Near the station, Bunny had stopped at a phone booth to make a call. As he’d been in there, briefly, for one mad second, Amy considered running. She didn’t know what she’d be running to, but maybe it’d just feel good to run. Perhaps she could go over to the stables and bust Mabel out and they could ride off into the sunset. It didn’t feel like the worst idea.
She’d found the dumbwaiter earlier in the day while cleaning Jonathan’s apartment. It was what she had decided to do to try and gain some control over her surroundings. Her life had been falling to pieces on national TV, so she’d dug the cleaning products from under Jonathan’s sink an
d gone to work. In this regard, she was very much her father’s daughter. Amy remembered when her grandfather had been sick, when she was a child. He’d undergone a six-hour bypass operation. Her dad had cleaned the entirety of his father’s house in that time, lifting things that had never been lifted, finding dust in places most people didn’t even know existed. When Gramps had come home, he’d left the windows open for a fortnight to try and remove the smell of bleach.
She wondered if that was what he was doing now. His diligent daughter was now a deviant murderer and public enemy number one. She bet the kitchen floor gleamed like a new Corvette.
Time had dictated that the argument they had about the dumbwaiter was brief and to the point. Amy had insisted Bunny went first, reasoning that he needed more assistance in forcing his bulk into the confined space. He’d huffed and puffed, disliking both the idea and the fact it wasn’t his. He seemed keener to try and fight his way out against idiotic odds, typical male. Grudgingly, he’d agreed and gone first, followed by Amy with his coat. As she’d pulled the door closed behind her, she’d heard the front door shattering. As they turned another corner and the rain once more pelted into her face, she wondered what Jonathan would think when he returned to his shattered door, not to mention the window and floor featuring bullet holes and heaven knows what other damage that had occurred after they’d left. She added him to the list of those she had let down.
Bunny stayed between her and the road, keeping a watchful eye on passing traffic to see if anyone was taking an undue interest in them – public enemy number one and the man with no name. He could leave her at any time and, in a way, she wished he would. Then she could just file him in the “people I shouldn’t have trusted” column and get on with what little life she had left. He wouldn’t provide the alibi that could save her, and yet he wouldn’t take the out and leave either.
They’d boarded the 6 train bound for Pelham Bay Park. She’d kept her hoodie up the whole time and tried to avoid cameras where she could. Nobody took any notice. At 10pm, the passengers on the train were lost in their own worlds, too tired to care about anything but getting where they were going. Nobody seemed in the slightest bit interested in trying to get a look at the girl behind the hood, to see if her face matched that of the monster on the front of most of that day’s papers, soggy copies of which lay strewn on spare seats.
Disaster Inc Page 20