by Toby Ball
“Why didn’t you request the file again?”
“They retired me. Almost immediately after I had the second file planted. Maybe they knew, or maybe they were suspicious that we were playing games with the system and decided to make me the example. Maybe Talley was the mayor’s man. I never knew. They sent me off and I didn’t have the nerve to ask any of the others to make the request. Who was I to trust? So it sat until a legitimate request was made, I suppose.”
Puskis was overwhelmed by this story. “How did you get the duplicate file into the Vaults?”
Van Vossen laughed without much pleasure. “That was simple. One of the women who cleans on our floor was married to one of the cleaners for the Vaults. I gave her twenty dollars to have her husband stick the file in the right spot. Apparently he did.”
Puskis searched the street as he walked back toward City Hall from Van Vossen’s house. Van Vossen had told Puskis that the police, or more specifically, the ASU, kept a watch on his house, but that he thought the surveillance had more or less been abandoned at this point. Reacting to a stricken look from Puskis, Van Vossen smiled.
“You don’t have to worry. You may be the most important person in the City for them. In the Vaults they have a tremendous amount of important information. The information that could harm them is most important of all, you see. But all this information is absolutely worthless if there is no way to retrieve it. Nobody understands how it is organized but you.”
“To be honest, that seems like a reason to get rid of me.”
“No. Quite the opposite, in fact. Listen. It is like a cancer. How can you treat a cancer if you don’t know where the tumor is? It is the same. They need you because you can find the dangerous files. They may try to manipulate you into finding them. If they get scared or think you may have figured it out, they’ll force you to do it. But either way, you are indispensable.”
That argument had logic but not enough to quiet the thundering of Puskis’s pulse. As he walked, he noticed a man on the opposite sidewalk keeping pace with him.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The Poles were assembled in Red Henry’s office. Extra chairs had been brought in, and the senior Poles sat while the others stood at attention behind them. Peja sat opposite the Poles, and the translator stood in the middle of the room, turning this way and that to follow the conversation.
Henry said, “We realize that the recent strike at one of our factories has caused some concern.” He waited for the translation and watched the head of the contingent, a walrus-looking guy named Rinus, nod gravely and then respond. The translator turned back to Henry.
“He says that there is some concern. He suggests that the police are not an . . . efficient means for dealing with that type of problem.”
Henry forced a smile, though the audacity of the criticism brought blood to his face. “Tell him that I am going to show him a method he may find more efficient.”
Henry watched as Rinus nodded judiciously, looking at Henry rather than the translator.
Henry beckoned the translator to his desk. “I’m going to bring in somebody and have a chat with him. I want you next to Rinus, and I want you to keep a running translation of what goes on. Don’t water it down.”
The translator nodded with annoying earnestness and pivoted to go to his new post.
“Another thing,” Henry said, before the translator had taken a step away. “This might get rough. Nothing that happens here leaves this room. You will probably understand why you shouldn’t be on my bad side after this morning.”
The translator turned a shade paler and hurried to Rinus’s side. Peja had taken up a post by the door, and Henry nodded to him. The door opened to admit two burly ASU officers, one on each of Enrique’s arms. They marched him into the middle of the room and then left him there, retreating to positions by the door.
“Enrique Dotel?” Henry asked.
Enrique nodded. Henry made sure the translator was in place.
“You were the organizer of the strike this week at Capitol Industries?”
Enrique again nodded. His composure, a subtle show of defiance, irked Henry.
“The strike is now over. Do you understand? You are personally responsible for making sure that the shifts are back to full capacity beginning tomorrow morning.”
Enrique kept his chin up and met Henry’s eyes. “The strike is not over. I do not control the workers. They make decisions for themselves. I am only an organizer. The strike will not end because I am in prison or anyone else is in prison.”
Henry looked over to Rinus, whose head was cocked to hear the frantic translation.
“I don’t want this to be a problem,” Henry said quietly. “I want to be clear, and I want you to understand and guarantee me that you can do as I ask.”
“Again, I am not in a position to fulfill your request. If I was in such a position, I would not grant it.”
Henry rose from his chair and walked around his desk so that he stood over Enrique. He might have been half again the weight of the smaller man.
“I’m afraid that I’m not making myself as clear as I might.”
Enrique did not back down. “You are clear. I hope that I am clear as well.”
Henry grabbed Enrique by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground so that they were face-to-face.
“You are making a big mistake, friend.”
For the first time, Enrique showed fear. He was a big man and not used to being physically dominated.
Henry looked at Peja and nodded toward the window behind the mayor’s desk. “Open it.”
Peja looked at him, confused.
“Open the goddamn window.”
Peja scurried across the room to open the window. The translator kept translating, but fear was in his eyes. Rinus squinted, concentrating on what was happening while he listened. The other Poles watched with anticipation.
When Peja had the window open, Henry carried Enrique over and shoved his upper body through to the outside. They were on the fifth floor, sixty feet to the sidewalk below. Henry grabbed Enrique’s ankles, then extended his arms out the window so that Enrique dangled upside down with Henry taking his entire weight. Henry held him there for several seconds until an odd whimpering sound drifted up to him.
Rinus and several of the more senior Poles were crowding around the window to get a better view.
“Again,” Henry said with exaggerated calm, “I need you to have the workers back at the factory tomorrow morning. Is that something you can guarantee me?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Poole held Carla’s hand as they walked. It was rare for them to be out together like this. At one time this had been commonplace, but their work now made it nearly impossible, and they had settled into a hidden relationship, seeing each other almost exclusively within the confines of their flat. While something about that was both exciting and cozy, it was also nice to be together away from that confined space every once in a while. The mood was, of course, spoiled by Carla’s anxiety.
“Why are you smiling?” Carla asked.
Poole shrugged. “I like walking with you. It’s a break from what I’ve been doing.”
“Good God,” she said, exasperated. “Enrique is being dragged into the mayor’s office and you’re enjoying the walk?”
Poole shrugged, still smiling. “I guess so.” He didn’t know Enrique and was, to be honest, not sure that he wasn’t jealous of the time that Carla spent with him. But there was more than that. Poole knew that he could not fulfill something in Carla. He was not able to match her ideological certainty or zeal, and he wondered if Enrique could. He was concerned about what could happen to Enrique, but it had more to do with Carla’s happiness than Enrique’s well-being.
She gave him a hard look but squeezed his hand, the kind of mixed message that she often gave and that Poole had long ago decided not to try to figure out. They were a block south of City Hall.
“What’s your plan?”
Poo
le knew that her instinct was to go straight up to the fifth floor and have a go at getting into the office. He also knew that she understood that this plan was not likely to work, that if they did somehow manage to get past all the security and into the mayor’s office, it would probably do more harm than good.
“I think we wait and watch and make sure he comes out sometime soon. What time is it?”
Ten thirty.
They waited five minutes. Poole tried a couple of amiable tracks of conversation, but Carla was having none of it.
She gasped. Poole followed her eyes and saw Enrique dangling from a top-floor window. It was nearly surreal. Enrique hung motionless from two arms that protruded from the window.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Poole worried that Carla was going to hyperventilate. He slid behind her and cupped her shoulders gently in his large hands.
“He’s going to drop him! He’s going to kill him!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Five stories above, Red Henry was enjoying himself.
“Is that something you can guarantee?” he repeated, looking past Enrique’s dangling body to the street below. It was a hell of a drop.
Enrique gasped something unintelligible. Henry jerked his hands a little and Enrique screamed, “Yes. Yes. I guarantee. Yes.”
Henry looked over his shoulder and winked at Rinus, who was smiling with one side of his mouth. Henry stepped back and pulled Enrique roughly back into the room. He was weeping and shaking, and when he got to his feet, a large wet stain showed he had lost control of his bladder.
“You may leave now,” Henry said. “Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”
Enrique staggered toward the door. The two ASU officers took his arms, showing no sympathy for the man’s state. The door was ajar and Enrique was halfway through when Henry called out to him, “I know your sister who works at the bakery on Vasco da Gama Street. If I need to find you again, I will go to her first.”
The guards released Enrique’s arms. He couldn’t find the energy even to give Henry a hostile look. He just turned and walked out.
“Well, translate,” Henry roared, feeling good.
The translator spoke quickly in Polish as Peja closed the office door. Most of the Poles laughed and the others smiled. A couple even clapped.
Henry smiled, too, not with them, but because his assessment of the Poles and what they would respond to had been so accurate. His intuition was one tool—and physical intimidation was the other—that he knew he could count on.
Rinus came over to him, his hand outstretched. “That dotted line that you talk about. We are ready to sign on it.”
Henry, a man who did not like surprises, actually laughed. He looked over at the translator, who shrugged in ignorance. Those goddamn Poles were cagey, Henry thought, shaking Rinus’s hand.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Poole knew that Red Henry—no one else had arms like that—was not going to drop Enrique in front of all these witnesses. He also knew that telling Carla that would not alleviate her anxiety in the least. After a few excruciating moments, the arms pulled Enrique back into the building. Poole realized he was breathing hard. Carla was fighting back tears.
“It’s okay. It’s over.” Poole brushed her hair with his hand in an attempt at comfort he knew was wholly inadequate.
She turned around into him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. He stroked her hair gently.
She pulled away. “We stay here until he comes out.”
Poole nodded. He was in no hurry to begin searching the Hollows for Casper Prosnicki. He expected a long wait and was surprised when, only a few minutes later, he saw Enrique walking unsteadily down the front steps. Carla started to move toward Enrique, but Poole saw the urine stain on Enrique’s trousers and grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to pull free.
“Let him go home on his own. Call him in a half hour. Don’t tell him you saw him here.”
She looked up at Poole, puzzled. She hadn’t noticed Enrique’s pants.
“Just trust me on this. It’s for his sake.”
Carla nodded. Poole knew that when he made an unequivocal stand, she would trust his judgment. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he straightened up so that her feet dangled and her body pressed against his.
“Are you scared?” he asked.
“No.”
He could tell by the feel of her body that this was the truth. He grabbed her around the waist and eased her back to the ground. Then, with regret, he turned east toward the Hollows.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Nora awoke in a haze, as though coming out of the deepest phase of sleep. Without opening her eyes she knew that something was not right. It was the smell of the place—potpourri in the air, but not the type she used. The mattress was too soft. She opened her eyes and her disorientation took on a visual dimension. She was in her room. But at second glance, she was not. She was in a room very much like her own. The walls were the same pink with white molding. The bed was the same four-poster. The bookcases were like hers, filled with books. But the room was roughly half the size of hers. And there were no windows.
She sat up. She was wearing the nightgown she had fallen asleep in. A pink robe hung from a hook on the only door in the room. She eased out of bed and put on the robe. It wasn’t hers, but it fit. She tried the door handle—locked. She sat back down on the bed and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. She wasn’t scared, just bewildered.
Fear came five minutes later with the sound of footsteps beyond the door. Until then she had clung to the illusion that this was some bizarre dream or some fault with her perception. Was she going mad? If so, it was not nearly as unpleasant as she would have guessed. But the footsteps forced her to acknowledge that this was real. Someone had taken her from her apartment and brought her to this room, which had been made to look as exactly like her bedroom as this space would permit.
She brought her knees up under her chin and laced fingers over her shins, like an armadillo rolling into a protective ball. She had come to terms long ago that her being a sex symbol meant she was the object of lust for hundreds or even thousands of men. Among these men, inevitably, were the sadists and the unbalanced and the deranged. For them, she knew, she was the object of rape fantasies or perhaps even worse. The similarity of this room to her own had initially been comforting, but now, facing the reality that someone had obviously spent time making this likeness and had therefore seen—or perhaps even been in—her bedroom, it was terrifying.
She sat like that, listening to footsteps, her mind wildly running through worst-case and best-case scenarios of what was happening. She heard the footsteps approaching, finally reaching the door. The bolt pulled back and the door opened. She tried to push farther back on the bed. A small, lean man with dark skin—like an Indian, Nora thought—entered carrying a tray with breakfast on it. He wore tweed pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He placed the tray on a table next to the door.
“Who’re you?” she asked, recognizing him as the man who had watched her at the club. She surprised herself with the composure of her voice.
He gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.” His voice was soft and carried an accent that she couldn’t place.
“Why am I here?”
He smiled again. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you. I will keep you as comfortable as possible. This is not about you.”
“I don’t guess you would tell me what it is about?”
“Sadly, no, other than to assure you that it does not involve harming you. We merely need you here for a short while. Please enjoy your food. Knock on the door if you desire anything.”
He turned away from her and she saw how his undershirt bridged the depression between the muscles on either side of his spine. He turned back again.
“Miss Aspen. You are lovelier by far here, in person, than you ar
e on the stage. Please do not worry about your safety. I would not allow anyone to harm you.”
He left. His words, uttered by someone else, might have been creepy or threatening. But something about this man made her feel safe and comfortable, and she ate her meal in serenity.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Puskis was two blocks from City Hall when an ASU officer intercepted him.
“Mr. Puskis?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad we’ve found you, sir.”
“Found me?”
The officer was young and earnest. “Yes, sir. When you didn’t show up for work, they sent us out searching.”
Odd, Puskis thought. Then again, he hadn’t been late for work in nearly two decades. They must be wondering why now. Why does he go missing as soon as we unveil the new Retrievorator? And, as Van Vossen had said, he was more important to them now than he had ever been.
He allowed the young officer to lead him back to City Hall, noticing how the other pedestrians gave them considerable room to pass. The officer seemed oblivious of this effect, though, as an ASU officer, he most likely took it for granted.
At City Hall, a contingent of ASU officers along with two men who Puskis recognized from the mayor’s staff met them.
“Mr. Puskis,” said one of the mayor’s men, “where have you been?” He was a huge man in a pin-striped suit that might have been cut for a bear.
Puskis hesitated. Had he been watched? Did they already know where he was or would they be able to find out later? What were the consequences of lying? He was not used to making quick decisions. Nothing was ever split-second in the Vaults. “I, uh, I went for a walk.” It was slow coming out and everyone knew it was a lie.