The Manolo Matrix

by Julie Kenner

  “Looks that way.”

  “There’s one thing I don’t get, though.” She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing as she focused on the ground rather than on him. “If you…I mean, if you and Birdie, you know, then why—”

  “Didn’t I realize who she was while we were doing the nasty?”

  She grimaced. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah.”

  “I never saw her, those years ago. I read her file. I followed her trail. But I never actually saw her.”

  “Not even a picture?”

  He shook his head. “She was good. We didn’t have any pictures. Once she was in custody, there were mug shots, but by then, I was on to other things. I’d been low man on the totem pole, but the work I did got me noticed. By the time she was actually captured, I’d been shifted to other assignments.”

  “But you knew about the tattoo?”

  “That I knew. Witness statements. It’s pretty distinctive.”

  “And yet the other night…”

  “Let’s just say that I thought she was so enthused by the moment that she never managed to completely disrobe. Now it makes sense. She kept the tattoo covered on purpose.”

  “Oh.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Jenn, it didn’t mean—I was lost. Or I was trying to get lost.”

  She turned moving backwards into the racks of purses that lined the little cubicle they’d entered. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t owe you one. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to explain anyway.”

  “Devlin, I—oh, shit!” He reached out, grabbing the metal grate from which the purses hung, and shoving it, hard, so that it started to tumble. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her. “Run!”

  He ran, following on her heels as the purse rack clattered to the ground behind them. A sharp whiz sounded by his ear, a little too close for comfort, and he hit the ground, pulling Jenn down with him. Together, they crawled behind a glass case filled with jewelry.

  “Stay down!”

  “No shit,” she said.

  He pulled out his clutch piece, then lifted his head just enough to see a woman with dark glasses, a platinum blond wig, and a long black trench coat picking her way over the purse rack. She was partially hidden behind other racks and cases, but he could see clearly enough that her weapon had a laser sight. State of the art, and far outmatching the piece he’d hidden at his ankle.

  Still, if he could just get a good shot…

  He looked around, assessing the area. The place hadn’t been too busy. Most of the customers bought things from the vendors at the front door; fewer ventured into the back. An Asian woman was prone on the floor, and Devlin marked her as one of the vendors. A twenty-something redhead with spandex shorts, a fanny pack, and a Lion King t-shirt—a tourist—huddled in a corner. Devlin couldn’t see any more civilians, but he figured they were out there. He assumed at least one of them had called 911.

  Birdie probably assumed as much as well, which meant she wasn’t going to try to wait them out. She’d leave soon, probably taking a hostage just in case.

  And she’d try for them again at the next opportunity.

  As if to prove his point, she reached down and hauled the redhead to her feet. She jabbed the gun into her side, looked around, and then headed back out the way she’d come in. Less then three minutes, Devlin knew, and she’d gopher into the subway tunnels. He wasn’t worried about the tourist. Birdie wanted him. And she wanted her freedom. She wasn’t going to increase her exposure by killing a civilian.

  As soon as she stepped out onto the street, Devlin took Jenn’s arm. He led her in a crouch to the back of the space, then pushed out through the emergency exit. He still had his gun out, and he covered the area, but it was clear.

  “Come on,” he said, heading up the alley and away from Times Square.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away. As far away as we can get, and as fast as we can get there.”

  Chapter

  48

  BIRDIE

  T wice now. The little bitch has foiled me twice now, and it’s really beginning to piss me off.

  I keep my gun pressed to the redhead’s side, hidden from view, as we march down into the subway. I keep her close, myself at the alert, as we wait for the train to pull in. I wait, watching as the subway belches out its load of passengers, then hang behind as those of us waiting struggle on. And then, as the doors begin to shut, I shove the girl to the ground, catch the door, and hustle inside.

  The train pulls away, and I aim an air kiss toward the girl. Why not? In a way, she just saved my ass.

  I don’t bother to take a seat, as I’m getting off at the next stop anyway. And as I hang onto the bar, I consider my next move. First, of course, I’ll lose this outfit. It was, I realize, a mistake, but I’d still been in the biker shorts and top when the tracker had kicked back on. I’d been in a brutal hurry, and I’d wanted something to hide the outfit and my hair. So I’d gone for the quick fix, making purchases I normally would never have considered. I hadn’t expected Jennifer to notice me, but she did.

  I give her credit for that. Like me, she’s tuned to notice those little fashion faux pas.

  I try to think what’s nearby, and remember a row of clothing stores on Avenue of the Americas. I can pick up something suitable and then head to my next destination.

  As the subway pulls into the station, I pull the shot glass out of my pocket. The Jekyll & Hyde Club, it says. And that’s all it says.

  It must be a clue, this glass that I watched tumble from Jennifer’s fingers.

  I don’t know if she held on to it long enough to see the logo, but I hope so. Because I intend to go there next. And my hope is that Jennifer and Devlin will join me there.

  Not for lunch, but definitely for some entertainment.

  Chapter

  49

  JENNIFER

  H oly shit.

  The whole time we were running, that phrase was whipping through my head. And if I hadn’t noticed her loitering by a jewelry case, Devlin might be dead.

  Oh, God.

  I stopped, bent over, and put my head down between my legs. In a second, Devlin was at my side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “You could have been killed,” I said, still sucking in air. I think I was hyperventilating. I told myself this was an audition. I had to play calm, cool, and collected. The unruffled Lady of the Manor. Two more breaths and I stood up straight and faced him. “I’m okay. I’m okay now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Instead of answering, I turned in a circle. “Where are we?”

  “A few blocks from the library. Come on.” He took my hand and walked me to the corner bus stop. He checked traffic, then pulled me back against a building. Beside us, a fruit stand beckoned, and people bought apples, bananas, and bundles of flowers. Normal stuff.

  “You hungry?”

  I realized I was staring and shook my head. “Just thinking. Jesus, Devlin.”

  “I know.” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but maybe she put some sort of device in my tennis shoes. Or maybe someone else is tailing us and relaying our position to her.”

  “I don’t know what to do about the tail, but let’s find a Foot Locker or something and get you some new shoes.”

  He didn’t argue, and after we got our bearings, we realized there was a shoe store just a few blocks over. We were lucky and managed to get a salesclerk’s attention right off the bat. As the guy went off for Devlin’s shoes, we sat waiting, eyeing everyone who walked by. I don’t know about Devlin, but I was on pins and needles, expecting the bird bitch to pop out from around corners, maybe even drop from the ceiling brandishing an Uzi.

  “I’m glad you paid attention,” Devlin said. “That’s how you noticed her.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, and told him so.

  “Watching faces. What we talked about ea
rlier. You paid attention and it saved my life.”

  “Ah,” I said. I wasn’t quite sure how to tell him that his safety tip hadn’t been the key. “That wasn’t exactly what happened.”

  “Don’t tell me you just got lucky?”

  “No. Well, sort of.” I cleared my throat. “She was wearing an Armani trench coat,” I said. “And low-heeled boots. It’s March, but it’s been warm. And so I noticed the outfit. Then I noticed the face and, well, you know what happened next.”

  “In other words, I was saved by your fashion sense.”

  “Pretty much. If she’d been Levi’s and a denim jacket I doubt I would have paid her a second glance. That’s tourist clothes.”

  “A dress?”

  “Depends on the designer, but probably. After all, I’d have to check out her shoes.”

  “The wonders of the female mind,” he said, but he said it with a smile, so I didn’t have to hit him.

  The clerk came back with Devlin’s size, and he switched shoes, asking the clerk to toss the old ones. We paid cash, then headed back out, watching our back the whole way.

  “Do you think that did it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I hope so. Because if the tracker wasn’t in my shoes, then I’m fresh out of ideas.”

  We walked up Avenue of the Americas to the Jekyll & Hyde Club, watching faces as we did. Fashion sense can only take you so far.

  It was a bit of a hike, but we were pumped up on adrenaline. Also, we’d decided to forego the Plymouth Theater, at least for the time being. Times Square was just too hot.

  As we walked, I looked sideways at Devlin. “If you’d had a clear shot, you’d have taken her out. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Bet your ass.”

  “Self-defense, right?”

  He stopped, turning to look at me, his forehead furrowed. “Damn straight.”

  “Would you feel guilty? Remorse?”

  His face hardened. “Not even a little bit. The bitch knew what she was getting into when she came after us. Hell, when she got into that life.”

  “She made her decisions, then.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Randall made his decisions, too,” I said, then started walking again, hoping I made my point.

  A few seconds later, Devlin fell into step beside me again. We walked the rest of the way in silence, and after a few minutes, the Jekyll & Hyde Club loomed in front of us. I paused just long enough to admire the kitschy, overblown entrance, with stone columns, skeletons decked out in suits guarding the entrance, Romanesque statuary, and dozens of other haunted-mansiony-type details.

  Devlin looked them up and down before turning to me. “Cute,” he said. “Come here often?”

  “Out of town visitors get a kick out of the place,” I said. “An old boyfriend brought me here once. That’s how I found it in the first place.” I cleared my throat. “Actually, there’s another place in Greenwich Village, but it’s the Jekyll & Hyde Pub. So this should be the right one.”

  “Lucky for us you knew it was here. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Really? It’s a total tourist magnet.”

  “Exactly,” he said, in the tone of a native New Yorker who eschewed the kitschy tourist stuff. Ah well. What can I say? I love my transplanted-ness. How else would I have an excuse to come to places like this?

  We headed to the entrance and told the livery-clad cast member that we’d like to go in for lunch. Everyone on staff tended to be aspiring actor. For a while, I’d even considered working there myself.

  “You’re lucky, miss,” he said in a cockney accent. “The mistress herself is giving tours today. You wait here, and she’ll be along shortly.”

  Devlin raised his eyebrows, but didn’t argue as we waited in a roped off queue. Come the evening, I knew, the area would be filled with excited teenagers, tourists, and couples out for a different kind of bar experience. Right now, thankfully, we’d have the place pretty much to ourselves.

  We didn’t have long to wait, and after only a few minutes, the heavy doors opened and a diminutive woman with granny glasses stepped out, costumed in period garb that I didn’t quite recognize. A cross between a nineteenth-century lady and a scullery maid, maybe. She held a cocktail in one hand, pressed the other against her mouth, and belched.

  “Oh, dearies, dearies, do excuse me. One tends to take a few too many nips after spending too much time in the master’s laboratory. A sad truth, sad,” she said, with a little shake of her head. “But come, come,” she said, gesturing us inside. “Let us see if the master is willing to let you in. He’s very particular, you know. His work is so important. So…ground-breaking.”

  As she spoke, she led us into a dark passage, mirrored on one side and with a closed door on the other. The door closed behind us, leaving us trapped in the alcove. Devlin shot a quick glance my way, but I just shrugged. It was silly and designed for kids, but I loved the place. And even though it was supposed to be scary, considering what real life was like at the moment, the foolishness was really quite refreshing.

  “I’m Prunella Pippet,” our guide said. “I’ve been working with the good doctor, helping him organize his collection of…curiosities.” She peered at us closely. “You know the story of Dr. Jekyll?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “And of Mr. Hyde?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Prunella nodded, ostensibly satisfied. “You’ve been here before, I see. Well, we’ll have to see if you’re still deemed worthy of entrance. If you have the strength of character to withstand the horrors you’ll find inside.”

  As she spoke, the lights dimmed and the mirrored wall changed to show a mummified man—who looked remarkably like television’s Crypt Keeper—stumbling toward us, cackling. As he did, the ceiling began to collapse, protrusions bearing down toward us. “Be strong, dear guests!” Prunella cried. “You must prove you’re worthy of entering.”

  I shot a quick glance toward Devlin, sure he was probably rolling his eyes, but to my surprise, he was actually grinning.

  Suddenly, the ceiling halted. Prunella sighed with apparent relief. “Thank goodness you’ve been deemed worthy!” The wall behind her opened and she escorted us to a traditional-looking restaurant entrance, complete with a hostess at a podium. Traditional, that is, except for the glass elevator shaft now revealed beside us, showing the mummified bodies of two lost travelers wasting away on top of the elevator car. Pretty cool stuff, all in all.

  “Two?” the girl asked.

  “Actually, we just need—”

  “Sure,” I said, cutting Devlin off.

  He cocked a brow in question.

  “We don’t know it’s at the lost and found. We might as well sit. The clue could be anywhere here.”

  He nodded, and we followed the hostess past a long bar on our right, mostly empty now, but it would likely be full to overflowing that evening. On our left, the walls were lined with creepy portraits over tables filled with tired adults and rapturous children.

  The eyes in the paintings moved, keeping track of us as we followed the hostess to a table nestled under a huge bronze statue of Zeus. “Be careful not to anger the god,” the girl said, then left the menus and headed back to the front.

  “This place is…interesting,” Devlin said.

  “I think it’s a hoot.”

  “I’d rather we didn’t have all those eyes staring at us,” he added, nodding to the portraits. “Who knows who might be behind those pictures.”

  I started to laugh, but caught myself. Under the circumstances, he had a point. The place was a literal house of horrors. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here,” I said, looking around. Dark and spooky, with at least four floors of restaurant space, the place overflowed with places to hide.

  I looked around again, this time searching the place for Birdie hiding in the dark. I didn’t see her, and that was good, but she could be anywhere. The place had nooks and crannies, as well as over-the-top attractions, like
the Frankenstein-inspired platform that rose from our level all the way up to the “attic” where lightning would bring the creature to life. Or the talking gargoyle. Or the animated, mummified rock band.

  All in all, the place was a feast of sight and sound. That made it fabulous as an attraction, but terrible for us.

  As if to prove my point, a group of teenagers bustled in, their raucous laughter battling the ambient din of the place. A girl in the center of the crowd wore a bright pink shirt with SWEET 16 emblazoned on it. From the noise of the group, I had a feeling it was going to be a heck of a party.

  “We should get out of here,” I said.

  “Wait.” Devlin put a hand on mine. “We’re here. Let’s see what we can learn. Just keep your eyes open.”

  “Believe me, I will,” I said, then screamed at the top of my lungs when a hand closed on the top of my head.

  “My, my, you are a live one,” said a doctor in a white lab coat. “Perhaps I could have the use of your brains for a little experiment?”

  “Um, no,” I said, not really into the spirit of the thing at the moment.

  He was going to argue—after all, that was his job—but our waiter came up then and the doctor disappeared into the dark.

  “You look like two weary travelers come for a little excitement at the hand of the good doctor. Can I provide you some refreshment after your long journey?”

  “Actually, we’re looking for information.”

  “Ah, a man of learning you are.”

  “Something like that,” Devlin said with a bemused look in my direction.

  “It’s a scavenger hunt,” I said. “We think the last clue led us here, but we don’t know what we’re looking for. We’re thinking maybe someone left the next clue for us in the lost and found.”

  “Ah, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, dear lady. All that’s in there is a pair of glasses and a pink sweater.”

  “Oh.” I frowned. “What about a message. Maybe for someone named Devlin? Or Jennifer? Or Paul Winslow?”

  “A message, huh? That one, I don’t know. You want me to go check?” he asked, sliding out of character. I almost chastised him. This place was like a training ground for actors. He shouldn’t slip like that.