by David Dun
“Were you at the booth?”
Grady hesitated. For reasons she couldn’t get hold of she felt very uncertain about her response.
Jill stepped close and put a hand on Grady’s neck, then put her head next to Grady’s head as if they were huddling.
“Look, I’m starting to like you. Don’t let me do that if you’re going to disappoint me.”
For a moment Jill said nothing more. Grady figured she could be forgiven this one transgression. It was, after all, a nothing telephone call and unworthy of one of their foul punishments.
“You’re a druggie,” Jill began again, “and I know you probably still think like one—keeping that connection going with the old life. Calling your friends, telling them you miss the stuff. Come on, let’s run.”
Grady wanted to argue and explain that Guy was no druggie, but instead she put one foot in front of the other back down the trail with a half hour to go, too tired to lie or fight.
Seventeen
Anna sat in the limousine facing backward, as did Shohei. She wore a simple turtleneck sweater, a St. John knit given her by a fatally injured girl whose last wish was to meet Anna Wade. “Who would have ever thought that Shohei would sit on a seat with Anna Wade?” Shohei said.
“I don’t think it’s really such a big deal, Shohei. Wardy Long sat beside me, held my hand, and tried to propose before he threw up in my lap, and now he works in a correctional center making license plates.”
Shohei laughed and nodded. “Okay if I be impressed anyway?”
As they pulled to a stop, Shohei pointed. “Look at that guy over there.”
Anna peered through the tinted glass window at a wide-shouldered figure in a panama hat leaning against the concrete. His arms, neck, and chest filled out his leather coat. Sunglasses dangled from the open neck of the coat as if he expected the sun to shine. She looked closer, trying to discern the face under the shadow of the hat, and suddenly realized that it was Sam puffing on a cigar.
Without even thinking about the men who had been following she opened the door, jumped out, and confronted him.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Hello to you too. Shall we go up?” Sam asked.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
“California.”
“Sam, don’t give me a hard time.”
Maddeningly he took her arm and started walking toward the entry. Not knowing what else to do, she walked beside him, Shohei trailing. They walked briskly along the sidewalk to the entry level of the building. They entered a large lobby several stories high and hundreds of feet across.
From nowhere two men appeared in the lobby, escorting them to the elevators.
Instinctively she looked back to the front door, saw several men exiting a dark sedan on the street.
“Are they the ones? In that dark-looking car?”
“Probably, but don’t look at them.”
“Why are they following me?”
“Maybe they have personal business in the building, like you and me.”
“What floor are you going to?” she asked.
“I’m going to fifty-nine.”
“And I suppose by some marvelous coincidence you’re going to Dyna Science Corp,” she said.
“I can’t believe it. Is that where you’re going too?”
“Sam, I have a private meeting.”
“Oh, absolutely. So do I.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Dr. John Weissman.”
“Well, I’m meeting somebody else.”
“Whose name is?”
“I’m sure you already know.”
Sam pushed the button for the fifty-first floor.
“Why are we doing this?” Anna asked.
“Fool the followers. A little—distraction—never hurts.”
They stopped at the fifty-first floor and exited.
“Now what?” Anna said.
“The stairs.”
They climbed eight flights to the fifty-ninth. By the last stair her thighs and calves were burning. She knew Sam was watching her and she could detect the mirth at the corners of his mouth. As far as she could tell he was completely unfazed by the fast climb.
According to the placard as they exited the stairs, the floor was occupied by Dyna Science Corp. Even the hall outside the offices was elegant with blue red-trimmed carpets, wall tables with blue vases, some paintings of the neoclassical period, and the occasional chair. Everything picked up on the blue and red, whether by echo or contrast.
“I want to attend to my business alone.”
“Okay. We’ll all wait inside in the lobby.”
“I’d prefer you wait here.”
“Okay,” he said, but continued walking toward the door.
“You said okay.”
“Okay, I understand you want me to wait out here.”
“So you’re refusing to wait out here.”
“Why would I wait out here?”
“To respect my privacy. To allow me to attend to my business uninterrupted.”
“Okay.”
“Screw you,” she said, walking in the double doors with Sam and the entourage following.
“To these people I am Robert. Don’t tell them otherwise. Get behind me, eyes on your toes. Leave your hat and sunglasses on no matter how dumb it feels,” Sam said in her ear. Instantly she took off her sunglasses and her hat and turned to look Sam in the eye, radiating her displeasure. Then she gave the receptionist her best infectious smile.
“Good morning. I’m here to see Dr. Carl Fielding.”
The receptionist’s face lit up. “Anna Wade. How exciting to meet you. They told me Anastasia Wade, not the Anna Wade.”
“Robert,” the receptionist said, still looking at Anna but talking to Sam. “Look at who you’ve brought us.”
“Quite an event, huh?” Sam said.
“It’s very nice to meet you, May,” Anna said. “You’ve got a great place here and I’ll bet that is your daughter?” Anna looked at a small picture on the woman’s desk.
“She’s my pride and joy.”
“She looks to be at that age where everything is exciting.”
“That’s so true.”
“What grade is she?”
“She’s in the second grade.”
“Well, give her an extra hug for me, would you?”
“I will. And I know you’re here to see the professor.”
“Dr. Carl Fielding. I’m wondering where I might find him.”
“Well, I was about to say that Dr. Fielding is not here but he suggested you see Dr. John Weissman. Who also has an appointment with Robert.”
“This Robert?” Anna asked.
“Well, yes. That’s our only Robert.”
“This is Sam,” Anna said.
“Nickname,” Sam said. “We just need one of the small conference rooms for twenty minutes. That’s it.”
“Okay, let’s see. Two-B. And it’s open for the next two hours.”
“Great. Anna and I will be in the guest office for a couple of minutes if you could get that call going for me.”
May nodded.
“We’ll be right back.” Sam led Anna toward a small office off the lobby. Anna knew how to allow her publicist and agent to handle her and her activities when she so desired. Sometimes it was easier to think about her work and not sweat the details. But right here, right now she wasn’t going to be handled. She stopped and turned to May.
“May, did Carl Fielding actually speak with you when he left a message for me?” Anna said.
“Yes. like I said, he suggested you see Dr. Weissman.”
“I see.” She turned to Sam. “Somehow this was your doing.”
“Only partly,” he said. “We can clear this up in this office if you’ll just come and listen.” This time she allowed herself to be ushered inside. Sam closed the door. “Dr. Weissman is the guy.”
“And why are you the one to determine that?”
&nbs
p; “Good point. How would you like to decide this?”
“I thought I was doing okay.”
Sam stuck his head out the door. “May, is Dr. Fielding on the line yet?”
“Just coming, I’ll patch him through.”
Sam put a phone in Anna’s hand.
“You spoke with my ex-husband, Joshua Nash?” she asked Dr. Fielding, by way of introduction.
“I did indeed. I assume we’re talking about Jason Wade’s work?”
“Yes. I understood you would meet me.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry if I disappointed you by not being there. Dr. Weissman and I have been friends since graduate school. He would be most familiar with Jason’s work. We don’t really have a handle on all that Jason is doing, but I could do you no better than John. I would have been there today but I’m teaching this quarter and I’m a little strapped at the moment.”
“Well, thank you very much, Dr. Fielding. You’ve been very helpful.”
“If you need anything else ...”
“We’ll let you know.”
“So who do you choose?” Sam asked Anna after she had replaced the receiver. “Will John fit the bill? He’s Carl’s man.”
“Carl’s or yours?”
“You talked to Carl.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me all this?”
Sam shrugged. “I knew you’d overlook any unintended slight.”
“Let’s go talk with Dr. Weissman,” she said.
“If that’s your choice I can live with it.”
John Weissman was a tall balding man with a confident smile and a fringe of once-blond hair. Sam immediately pulled the curtain over the interior glass wall of the conference room, giving them privacy from reception.
“Sam tells me that you would know more about Jason’s work than Carl Fielding.”
“He’s probably right, as far as I can tell,” John said. “Based on what little we know of Jason’s work, that is. If this is about the modeling Jason’s doing with the neurology people—trying to model consciousness—I don’t think anybody understands it.”
“Well, whatever my brother is working on,” Anna said, “he insisted I take this disk. I have no idea what’s on it.”
“Well, we can take a look and see what’s there, at least generally. Now why is it he gave this to you?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m sure it’s highly confidential.”
“I will say nothing. This will be a personal matter, just between us.”
Anna removed the CD from her purse, now in a Bob Dylan jewel box, and handed it to Dr. Weissman.
At that moment Shohei came in unannounced.
When Jill and Spring went to town to shop, Grady was too savvy to use the phone in the beach house. They had taken her cell phone.
As she considered how she might call Guy, she spied two young men walking onto the back patio of the neighboring beach house, obviously contemplating the barbecue and carrying a large piece of red meat.
She would ask for a quick ride to the nearest store, use the phone booth.
“Hi, guys,” she said easily with a good solid smile.
“Hi. I’m Clint. This is Seth.”
“I wondered if I could impose on you to give me a ride to that store down the road. I want to get some orange juice.”
“Yeah.”
“Sure,” Seth followed up.
“Who is the guy who brought you here?” Clint asked on the way to the store.
“You were watching?”
“We just got here ourselves and saw the Porsche.”
“You should see his other car.” In some detail she described the Vette.
“Who is this guy?”
“I don’t know. He was hired by Anna Wade, my aunt.”
“You don’t mean the Anna Wade? Not the movie star Anna Wade?”
“That would be who I mean.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Relax, fellas. I don’t even speak to her.”
When they got to the store she managed to send Clint and Seth to find a patio hummingbird feeder, a marvelous excuse that came to her as they were driving. She went to the phone booth with her enthusiasm mysteriously drained.
“I’m still in the program. I’m doing great. Still can’t talk long.”
“Where the hell are you?” asked Guy.
“I told you, California coast somewhere.” It amazed her that she was lying and she wasn’t certain why.
“I want to see you.”
“Keep your shirt on and you will. Right now you have to give me a little space to do the program, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you that a little snort won’t fix.” His voice was strong with an edge and quite different.
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Yeah, well, you’re probably right. Hey, I miss you. I love you. I’d just feel so much better if I knew where you were.”
“I know. I’ll call soon.”
“They are now two floors below. Temporarily confused, I’m sure. And not too subtle in their searching,” Shohei said.
“Go,” Sam said.
“What’s happening?” Anna said.
“This is the part where you were to have kept on the hat and the sunglasses and let me do the talking so May wouldn’t have a clue that the Anna Wade was here.”
“Well, I didn’t do that. So how about plan B?”
Sam took out a radio. “Grubb in, Scott in,” he said.
Sam looked at her, then at John. “If you want to escape what might conceivably be a serious risk of death or injury, you should do exactly as I say.”
Seconds later one of her escorts from downstairs, a large black man in a suit looking like a linebacker on steroids, came through the door, followed by a leaner fellow nearly as tall and sporting a platinum-blond crew cut. Even in the loose-fitting suits it must have been an effort for the men’s tailors to contain the muscle.
“One in. One out. Anybody strange comes that May doesn’t know, stop them—whatever it takes, exclusive of shooting, unless they use heat first. Then kill them. Grubb,” he said, addressing the black man, “why don’t you stand out front? You make a good red flag.
“Anna and John, come with me.”
Anna and John followed Sam out the door and down the hall, away from reception. Sam was watching May, as if to make sure that she didn’t see which way they were headed. Glancing back, Anna saw Grubb take a position outside the conference room door with one hand in his suit jacket.
Offices lined the outer wall, each simple and fairly small. To their left were cubicles with four-foot dividers and the usual array of baby and spouse pictures, grade-school artwork, and the typical postings of office humor.
People were moving past them through the hall, looking busy and distracted.
They stopped at an empty office with the placard announcing Norman Rawles and went inside.
Sam closed the door. “I told you I hoped this wouldn’t happen, John, and I’m sorry. But it’s probably a little safer for you on the roof with us. On the other hand they will expect that you are there. What’s best for the safety of this data is for you to use the computer in this office to upload it to your computer at the university.”
“I can do that. Hopefully they have a fast pipe here to the Internet.”
“It’s a couple of T-ones,” Sam said.
“I’ll do it.”
Sam called a woman named Olivia and got a password that would access the computer. “John, you are Norman Rawles until I call and tell you otherwise. Close and lock the door. Leave the blinds open. Start the download, put your feet on the desk, and call the police. Tell them that you have reason to believe a robbery is in progress. If you hear shooting call them again and let them know about the guns. Don’t come out for anything. After the download is complete, hide that CD in a drawer or the computer. Don’t take it out until you leave. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Look natural and absentminded, li
ke you haven’t a care in the world. Come on, Anna.”
At the end of the hall a placard announced the offices of one Oscar Feldman, obviously an executive.
Sam and Anna walked in. “Head down, hat on, and stay behind me,” he said.
Oscar, a balding man with black bushy brows, barely had time to open his mouth in surprise. Sam bee-lined for a back door that led to a hallway with rest rooms and janitorial and utility rooms. They came to a plainly marked door with a green sign that said ROOF—HELIPORT. Through this door they came to another hall, which led to a set of stairs.
“You’ve been here before.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was illegal to land helicopters on rooftops in Manhattan.”
“It is. But this building has always had one and if you know the right Feds you can get a permit. Cost me a big favor, though.”
As they climbed the stairs, Shohei fell in behind them. On the roof waited a large, white Bell jet ranger helicopter.
Sam paused, turned to Shohei. “It was supposed to be a twin engine.”
Shohei shrugged. “I don’t know how they screwed it up.”
“I never put my clients in a single-engine anything. We’re not going.”
Shohei appeared surprised but nodded agreement.
“Tell the pilots to leave or stay; their choice. Tell them there is danger.”
Shohei ran to the chopper. Anna studied Sam, who frowned and studied the roof.
She let her eyes follow his. Well out of rotor range, the roof accommodated the house over the stairwell, an elevator room, a storage room, and beyond these a lounging area complete with a planter box garden. The patio furniture was bolted down.
The helicopter began to make a loud whining.
“Now what?” she said above the din. “How do we get out of here?”
Sam handed his radio to Shohei. “You might want to tell Scott and Grubb to follow those guys up here.”
Just then the chopper lifted off, climbing steeply and away from the building. Perhaps three hundred yards from the building the jet engine skipped horribly, went silent, and the bird dropped with its rotors nearly motionless. A loud crash came from the street level a quarter mile or more distant.