“Jenner’s outside, on the phone,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“You bet.”
Cathleen closed the curtain and Mia let go of Carver’s hand.
“Would you have?”
“No.”
She nodded, but Carver wasn’t sure what point she thought she’d proved.
“How much does Jenner know about this?”
“None of it,” he said. “I just phoned him, told him I’d buy him a drink at the usual place. I didn’t want to say more, and I didn’t say anything about you. I don’t trust it, the phone.”
“Not long and you’ll be like me.”
“Then what’ll we do?”
“We’ll need an island, maybe,” she said.
There was a knock on the outside of the confessional.
“Ross?”
Jenner’s voice turned his name into a low growl.
“Come on in.”
The curtain parted just enough for Jenner to step inside. He nodded at Carver and looked at Mia a moment before he slid onto the opposite bench.
“How was Cora?”
“Glad to see me. Can’t say as much for her mother,” Jenner said. He picked up his beer and took a sip, looking from Carver to Mia. “Who we got here?”
Before Carver could begin to explain, the curtain opened again. Houston squeezed onto the bench next to Jenner and then pivoted to slide the velvet back into place, sealing their privacy.
“What is this?” Jenner asked.
It took him an hour to answer. He kept his eyes on his partner’s, making sure that Jenner understood. At the end of it, he brought out his phone and laid it on the table. Jenner and Houston leaned toward it, their elbows on either side of their empty glasses. Carver brought up the audio file he’d created, and played the exchanges between Houston and dispatch that had led Adam-Five-David to the house on Filbert. When it was done, he put the phone back into his pocket and they all sat back.
Houston was the first to speak.
“That wasn’t me,” she said. “The last transmission, that wasn’t my voice.”
Carver rolled his pint glass between his palms, watching the bubbles in his half-finished beer. He looked up, checking each of their faces. They were waiting for him to decide.
“We can’t just go to that house, the four of us, and knock on the door,” he said. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t be seen together. If anyone’s watching us, they’ll know we’re following their trail. Maybe they won’t be as nice the second time around. Take us home, tuck us in.”
“They didn’t tuck you in,” Mia said.
“But they didn’t cut us in half and take a razor to our faces, either,” Carver said.
“Then what do we do?” Houston asked.
“You and Roper are still on patrol,” Carver said. “We talked about access? This is it.”
“What’s your plan?” she whispered.
The four of them leaned toward the center of the table, and Carver told them what he’d been thinking about.
15
HOUSTON LEFT FIRST, anxious to get back to Roper. Jenner gave her a good lead, then slid back the curtain and stepped out of the confessional, heading toward the bar. Carver fixed the curtain so that it was tight against the doorway.
“What now?” Mia asked.
“We wait a bit. I’ll go out and pay the tab. Then you and I walk home.”
“And after that?”
“Houston and Roper aren’t up till tomorrow night,” he said. He put his fist in front of his mouth to stifle a yawn. “So there’s nothing to do until then.”
“You’re tired again.”
He nodded.
“It’s still in you,” she said. “A little bit of it, maybe. Do you have that flashlight?”
He reached into his coat, slipping his fingers past the gun’s grip and finding the flashlight where he always kept it clipped. She took it from him when he handed it to her.
“What is this?”
“I’m just checking,” she said. “Here—let me sit across from you.”
She slipped over his lap and came around the end of the table. Her hair brushed his face, but otherwise she passed over him without touching him at all. He’d known she was graceful, but he hadn’t realized she was so willowy, or so fast. When she settled on the bench where Houston had been sitting, she picked up the flashlight again and patted the table in front of him.
“Lean across,” she said. She switched on the light and held it off to the side, aimed at the confessional’s low wooden ceiling.
He did as she asked, and then she came across the table to meet him. Their eyes were five inches apart.
“Good,” she said. “Like that. Now just look at my eyes.”
“Okay.”
She brought the light up and let it shine into his right eye. Suddenly the booth was split in two, a diagonal slash of light and shadow. He lost her face in the glare, and could just make her out by the hazy penumbra of her hair.
“Stay still, Ross.”
“Okay.”
Her left hand gripped his.
“Come back—don’t lean away.”
She swung the light to his left eye and let it linger a moment. Then she switched it off.
“You can close your eyes now,” she said. She let go of his hand.
He lowered his head and shut his eyes. The flashes and the sudden switch from one eye to the next had left him dizzy.
“What was that?”
“I was checking. It’s better now—your eyes react to the light, like they should.”
“You did that before? When I was sick?”
“I did,” she said. She was still right across from him. “Keep your eyes closed now. Can you feel me touching you? Don’t look.”
“Yes.”
“Where am I touching you?”
“On my fingertips,” he said.
“Good—that’s good.”
“Now on the back of my hands,” he said.
He could feel her tracing the tendons there, a brush so light she might not have been touching him at all. He might have just been feeling the heat of her fingers, a premonition of the skin.
“And now?” she asked.
“You’re not touching me,” he said. He wished she would.
“I’m not?”
“You’re not.”
She turned his hand palm up and put the flashlight back into it.
“You’re a lot better,” she said. “But you still must be tired.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. He’d trust her completely if it were just the two of them, somewhere far from here. But it wasn’t that simple and he knew it.
“I’ll go pay the bill,” he said. “Just wait here a second, till I come get you.”
“Okay.”
He left the booth and closed the curtain, then walked around to the other end of the bar. Cathleen left the customer she was with and came over to him. He handed her a paper bill, and she looked at it as if she hadn’t seen one in a long time. If Hernandez was remote-logging into his car’s GPS, he didn’t want to use his credit card here. When Cathleen came back, she gave him change, and a plain white envelope.
“From Jenner,” she said, quietly.
She slid it across the bar and he took it and pocketed it, knowing what it contained by its weight and bulk. Cathleen’s eyes tilted toward the confessional, and then back to him.
“He said if she —”
“That’s okay,” he whispered. He pushed the change across the bar. “I know what he said.”
Jenner hadn’t wanted Mia to see the envelope. He went back to the confessional. Mia came out when he opened the curtain, and she took his arm.
When they were in the elevator, making their slow and rickety rise up to their floor, Carver leaned against the brass rail and closed his eyes. Mia touched his shoulder.
“You’re all right?”
“I’m okay.”
“You probably need some
sleep,” she said. “Do you want me to knock, later? Tomorrow evening, before we start?”
“Please.”
“I’ll knock,” she said. “I’ll come a little early, and have things ready.”
He nodded, and the elevator car jerked to a halt as it reached their floor. The doors shuttled open. He opened his eyes and went down the hall with her. She waited while he opened his door.
“Good night, Ross.”
“Good night.”
She turned to her door and slipped the key into its lock. Carver watched her over his shoulder until he was inside his apartment. Then he shut the door and quietly turned the bolt.
He went into the living room and took the envelope from his pocket, ripping it open and letting the phone slide into his hand. It was a burner, the kind you could get in Chinatown for less than the price of lunch. There was a piece of masking tape on the back, with a number written in pencil. He dialed it and brought the phone to his ear. It rang once and the line picked up.
“That you?” he whispered.
“Good,” Jenner said. His voice was almost too deep to register on the phone’s tiny speaker. “You got it.”
“You out front?”
“That’s right. Listen—do you trust that girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to. I know that.”
“But I don’t know if I can,” Carver said. “Why do you think I brought her?”
“You were making a big noise, to see what it flushed out.”
Carver leaned against the wall and cupped his hand around the bottom of the phone to keep it quiet.
“You’re still thinking.”
“And you haven’t gone soft—I was worried.”
Carver went to the window and looked through a crack in the blinds. The street was wet. It glistened blue-red beneath the Neptune’s sign. Above the rooftops, the night was lined with streaks of electric rain. He couldn’t see Jenner, but that didn’t surprise him. Any one of the shadows might hold Jenner, and that made all of them seem less menacing.
“But that was a big risk, Ross, letting her in so far.”
“We’re in a corner and we need to know who our friends are,” Carver whispered. “So it’s not like I had a choice. Look—if she comes out her front door, then she has to go to the elevator or the stairs. Either way, I’ll hear her.”
“So?”
“Once she gets to the lobby, the only way out is through the front door—what you’re watching.”
“How else is she going to leave?”
“There’s an old fire escape around back. It connects to her windows.”
“I’m on my way—call me if she’s headed for the front.”
Jenner hung up, and Carver watched out the window. Somewhere down there, in the dark, his partner was on the move. But he saw nothing. After a moment, Carver went around his apartment turning out the lights. At the last switch, he stood in the dark and checked the phone to make sure it was on silent mode. Then he went to the entry hall and was settling down to wait near the door when Jenner called again. He answered it and brought it to his ear.
“You are not going to believe this.”
“Tell me.”
“She’s on the move. The window just slid up and she’s coming out.”
“You’re in a safe spot?”
“She won’t see me.”
“She’s still on this floor?”
“Shutting the window—now she’s on the ladder.”
If she was on the fire escape, she wouldn’t hear him leave. He went for his coat, switching the phone from one hand to the other as he put his arms through the sleeves. Then he took a hat from the hall closet and went to his front door.
He headed to the elevator at a trot, aware he might have Mia to thank for his strength. When he’d set up the meeting at the Irish Bank, when he’d laid out his plan for Houston and Jenner, he’d brought her along so she would hear everything. It had been a gamble, a willing risk of their momentum to see if she would lead him to someone bigger. But he hadn’t expected it to work. He’d wanted to believe she was on his side. He hit the elevator button and stood waiting for the car, remembering the way she’d used the light in the confessional to check some reaction in his eyes. The way she’d touched him, her fingers as soft as a whispered word.
The phone vibrated and he answered it.
“You better hurry,” Jenner said. “She’s already down to the third floor.”
“On my way.”
The elevator doors parted, and Carver stepped into the car.
“She’s hitting the ladders like —”
The call cut off when the doors shut. He didn’t need Jenner to finish the sentence. He could already picture it: Mia, in her black jeans and leather coat, sliding down the ladders without touching the rungs, gliding across the narrow wrought-iron walkways to kneel at the next trapdoor. Her movements silent, her body sovereign over the space beneath her, over the metal in her grip.
When he thought how far she’d gone to lie to him, he had to hold on to the brass rail.
The elevator bounced to a halt, and the doors opened. He pounded across the lobby, empty except for Glenn. He dialed Jenner as he pushed outside.
“Where are you?”
“Just got out front,” Carver said. He stopped at the curb. “What’s going on?”
“She’s in the alley. She used a rope to climb down the last bit,” Jenner said. “She’s tying it off now, out of the way—to get back up, I guess.”
The fire escape’s lowest landing had a weighted ladder that would swing down from the horizontal as someone began to climb out on it. It would rotate back to its resting position when the person stepped off, so that it remained out of reach from the alley. But from what Jenner was saying, Mia was bypassing that ladder altogether.
“She’s moving,” Jenner whispered. “Headed toward me . . . hold on.”
Carver moved away from the building’s front entrance to where he could stand in the shadows.
“Shit,” Jenner said.
“Did she see you?”
“No—but she’s moving. Fast.”
“Which way?”
“Toward the Irish Bank.”
“She’s gonna hang a left with the alley, come out on Bush?” Carver asked.
“That’s right.”
“I’ll head up there, cover where it meets Bush—where’s your car?”
“A block south, on Sutter.”
The alley was an L shape, with entrances on Bush and Grant. They could do this if they stayed mobile, but Mia was the hardest kind of person to tail. She knew their faces. They’d have to stay far enough back that she wouldn’t see them at all.
“Go out the way you came in,” Carver said. “Make sure she doesn’t double back. Soon as I see her on Bush, make a run for your car.”
“Got it.”
Carver went up the hill toward the intersection with Bush. On the other side, where Grant led up into Chinatown, the Dragon Gate was lit with red lanterns. He thought of Mia stepping from his car at the Fairmont Hotel, reaching under her collar and scarf to free the spill of her hair. He’d seen this coming from the moment he’d heard her voice, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. It was too easy to be with her. He took a right on Bush, running now, and stopped at the entrance to a brasserie, where he could stand in the alcove and watch the alley.
“You got her yet?” Jenner asked. His words came in between hard pants.
“Not yet,” Carver answered. He was breathing at least as hard as Jenner. “Wait—I see her.”
“I’m going for the car,” Jenner said. “Keep talking to me. Don’t hang up.”
She was directly under the Irish Bank’s sign, her dark clothes blending with the sooty bricks. She was looking down Bush Street, watching the traffic as it passed, and Carver turned to follow her line of sight. Across the intersection, a line of cars waited for the light to change. A delivery van, a couple of scooters, and a taxi had the fro
nt positions. The light changed and they started to roll in unison.
Carver figured out what Mia was doing the second before she started to run.
“Shit, Jenner,” he whispered. “Make it fast. She’s about to catch a cab.”
“Thirty seconds.”
Mia came out of the alley and crossed the sidewalk to the curb, her hand raised toward the cab. It put on its signal and swerved to the right lane, stopping in front of her. The driver rolled down the passenger window and she leaned in to speak with him.
“Jenner?”
“I’m coming,” he said. “Where are you?”
“On Bush, between Grant and the alley. We’re about to lose her. She’s getting in right now.”
Mia’s right boot disappeared into the cab and she shut the door. The driver put on his left turn signal, waiting at the curb for a clear path to the far lane. All Carver could do was stand and watch as it rolled to Kearny, signaled a left, and made the turn. Then, for just an instant, he had a clear view of Mia in the back seat. Her head was down and she was holding her fingers to her temples, so that her palms would block her sight on each side.
16
JENNER SLAMMED TO a stop in front of the brassiere, not even bothering to pull to the curb. Carver ran out and jumped in.
“Which way?” he asked, moving again before Carver had closed the door.
“Left up here—on Kearny.”
Jenner checked his mirror, then changed lanes, cutting off one car and slicing behind another. Horns wailed from two directions, and Carver braced himself through the turn.
“You got the plate?”
“I see it. It’s up there—slow down, or she’ll make us.”
He pointed through the windshield. The cab was caught at a red light at the intersection of Kearny and Pine. It was in one of the middle lanes, but as they watched, it made an illegal left on red and disappeared down Pine.
“You got it?”
Jenner answered with his foot on the accelerator. They made the turn and the taxi was one block ahead, passing the Ritz-Carlton. It cleared the intersection with Stockton and the light changed to red behind it. They watched it pass Dashiell Hammett Street and take a left on Powell.
“She’s going in circles,” Jenner said.
The Night Market Page 14