“No word from her,” said Tina. “Barry is the only person who’s reported in so far.”
“Yeah, I can believe Barry was the first down the stairs, trampling over anyone who got in his way. But who did Barry call?” asked Anna.
“Fenston. On his mobile.”
“Fenston?” said Anna. “How did he manage to escape when I left his office only a few minutes before the first plane hit the building?”
“He’d arrived on Wall Street by then—he had an appointment with a potential client, whose only asset was a Gauguin. So there was no way he was going to be late for that.”
“And Leapman?” asked Anna, as she took another sip of coffee.
“One step behind him as usual,” said Tina.
“So that’s why the elevator door was being held open.”
“The elevator door?” repeated Tina.
“It’s not important,” said Anna. “But why weren’t you at work this morning?”
“I had a dental appointment,” said Tina. “It had been on my calendar for weeks.” She paused and looked across the table. “The moment I heard the news I never stopped trying to call you on your cell, but all I got was a ringing tone. So where were you?”
“Being escorted off the premises,” said Anna.
“By a firefighter?” asked Tina.
“No,” replied Anna, “by that ape, Barry.”
“But why?” demanded Tina.
“Because Fenston had just fired me,” said Anna.
“Fired you?” said Tina in disbelief. “Why would he fire you, of all people?”
“Because in my report to the board, I recommended that Victoria Wentworth should sell the Van Gogh, which would allow her not only to clear her overdraft with the bank but hold on to the rest of the estate.”
“But the Van Gogh was the only reason Fenston ever agreed to that deal,” said Tina. “I thought you realized that. He’s been after one for years. The last thing he would have wanted was to sell the painting and get Victoria off the hook. But that’s hardly a reason to fire you. What excuse—”
“I also sent a copy of my recommendations to the client, which I considered to be no more than ethical banking practice.”
“I don’t think it’s ethical banking practice that keeps Fenston awake at night. But that still doesn’t explain why he got rid of you so quickly.”
“Because I was just about to fly to England and let Victoria Wentworth know that I’d even lined up a prospective buyer, a well-known Japanese collector, Takashi Nakamura, who I felt sure would be happy to close the deal quickly if we were sensible about the asking price.”
“You picked the wrong man in Nakamura,” said Tina. “Whatever the asking price, he’s the last person on earth Fenston would be willing to do business with. They’ve both been after a Van Gogh for years and are regularly the last two bidders for any major Impressionists.”
“Why didn’t he tell me that?” said Anna.
“Because it doesn’t always suit him to let you know what he’s up to,” said Tina.
“But we were both on the same team.”
“You’re so naïve, Anna. Haven’t you worked out that there’s only one person on Fenston’s team?”
“But he can’t make Victoria hand over the Van Gogh unless—”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Tina.
“Why not?”
“Fenston put a call through to Ruth Parish yesterday and ordered her to pick up the painting immediately. I heard him repeat the word immediately.”
“Before Victoria was given the chance to act on my recommendations.”
“Which would also explain why he had to fire you before you could get on that plane and upset his plans. Mind you,” added Tina, “you’re not the first person to have ventured down that well-trodden path.”
“What do you mean?” said Anna.
“Once anyone works out what Fenston is really up to, they’re quickly shown the door.”
“Then why hasn’t he fired you?”
“Because I don’t make any recommendations he isn’t willing to go along with,” said Tina. “That way, I’m not considered a threat.” She paused. “Well, not for the moment.”
Anna thumped the table in anger, sending up a small cloud of dust. “I’m so dumb,” she said. “I should have seen it coming, and now there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Tina. “We don’t know for certain that Ruth Parish has picked up the painting from Wentworth Hall. If she hasn’t, you’ll still have enough time to call Victoria and advise her to hold onto the picture until you’ve had a chance to get in touch with Mr. Nakamura—that way she could still clear her debt with Fenston and he couldn’t do anything about it,” added Tina, as her cell phone began ringing, “California Here I Come.” She checked its caller ID: BOSS flashed up. She put a finger to her lips. “It’s Fenston,” she warned. “He probably wants to find out if you’ve been in touch with me,” she added, flipping open the phone.
“Do you realize who got left behind in the rubble?” Fenston asked before Tina could speak.
“Anna?”
“No,” said Fenston. “Petrescu is dead.”
“Dead?” repeated Tina, as she stared across the table at her friend. “But—”
“Yes. When Barry reported in, he confirmed that the last time he saw her she was lying on the floor, so she can’t possibly have survived.”
“I think you’ll find—”
“Don’t worry about Petrescu,” said Fenston. “I already had plans to replace her, but what I can’t replace is my Monet.”
Tina was shocked into a moment’s silence and was about to tell him just how wrong he was when she suddenly realized that she just might be able to turn Fenston’s crassness to Anna’s advantage.
“Does that also mean we’ve lost the Van Gogh?”
“No,” said Fenston. “Ruth Parish has already confirmed that the painting is on its way from London. It should arrive at JFK this evening, when Leapman is going to pick it up.”
Tina sank down into the chair, feeling deflated.
“And make sure you’re in by six tomorrow morning.”
“Six A.M.?”
“Yes,” said Fenston. “And don’t complain. After all, you’ve had the whole of today off.”
“So where do I report?” asked Tina, not bothering to argue.
“I’ve taken over offices on the thirty-second floor of the Trump Building at 40 Wall Street, so at least for us it will be business as usual.” The line went dead.
“He thinks you’re dead,” said Tina, “but he’s more fussed about losing his Monet,” she added, as she snapped her cell phone shut.
“He’ll find out soon enough that I’m not,” said Anna.
“Only if you want him to,” said Tina. “Has anyone else seen you since you got out of the tower?”
“Only looking like this,” said Anna.
“Then let’s keep it that way, while we try and work out what needs to be done. Fenston says the Van Gogh is already on its way to New York and Leapman will pick it up as soon as it lands.”
“Then what can we do?”
“I could try and delay Leapman somehow while you pick up the painting.”
“But what would I do with it,” asked Anna, “when Fenston would be certain to come looking for me?”
“You could get yourself on the first plane back to London and return the picture to Wentworth Hall.”
“I couldn’t do that without Victoria’s permission,” said Anna.
“Good God, Anna, when will you grow up? You’ve got to stop thinking like a schoolteacher and start imagining what Fenston would do if he were in your position.”
“He’d find out what time the plane was landing,” said Anna. “So the first thing I need to do—”
“The first thing you need to do is have a shower, while I find out what time the plane lands and also what Leapman’s up to,” said Tina, as she st
ood up. “Because one thing’s for sure, they won’t let you pick up anything from the airport looking like that.”
Anna drained her coffee and followed Tina out into the corridor. Tina opened the bathroom door and looked closely at her friend. “See you in about—” she hesitated “—an hour.”
Anna laughed for the first time that day.
__________
Anna slowly peeled off her clothes and dropped them in a heap on the floor. She glanced in the mirror to see a reflection of someone she had never met before. She removed the silver chain from round her neck and placed it on the side of the bath, next to the model of a yacht. She finally took off her watch. It had stopped at eight forty-six. A few seconds later and she would have been in the elevator.
As Anna stepped into the shower, she began to consider Tina’s audacious plan. She turned on both taps and allowed the water to cascade down on her for some time before she even thought about washing. She watched the water turn from black to gray, but however hard she scrubbed, the water still remained gray. Anna continued scrubbing until her skin was red and sore, before turning her attention to a bottle of shampoo. She didn’t emerge from the shower until she’d washed her hair three times, but it was going to be days before anyone realized that she was a natural blonde. Anna didn’t bother to dry herself; she bent down, put the plug in the bath, and turned on the taps. As she lay soaking, her mind revisited all that had taken place that day.
She thought about how many friends and colleagues she must have lost and realized just how lucky she was to be alive. But mourning would have to wait, if she was to have any chance of rescuing Victoria from a slower death.
Anna’s thoughts were interrupted by Tina knocking on the door. She walked in and sat on the end of the bath. “A definite improvement,” she said with a smile, as she looked at Anna’s newly scrubbed body.
“I’ve been thinking about your idea,” said Anna, “and if I could—”
“Change of plan,” said Tina. “It’s just been announced by the FAA that all aircraft across America have been grounded until further notice and no incoming flights will be allowed to land, so by now the Van Gogh will be on its way back to Heathrow.”
“Then I’ll need to call Victoria immediately,” said Anna, “and tell her to instruct Ruth Parish to return the painting to Wentworth Hall.”
“Agreed,” said Tina, “but I’ve just realized that Fenston has lost something even more important than the Monet.”
“What could be more important to him than the Monet?” asked Anna.
“His contract with Victoria, and all the other paperwork that proves he owns the Van Gogh along with the rest of the Wentworth estate should she fail to clear the debt.”
“But didn’t you keep backups?” asked Anna.
Tina hesitated. “Yes,” she said, “in a safe in Fenston’s office.”
“But don’t forget that Victoria will also be in possession of all the relevant documents.”
Tina paused again. “Not if she was willing to destroy them.”
“Victoria would never agree to that,” said Anna.
“Why don’t you phone her and find out? If she did feel able to, it would give you more than enough time to sell the Van Gogh and clear the debt with Fenston, before he could do anything about it.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Tina.
“I don’t have her number. Her file is in my office, and I’ve lost everything, including my cell phone and Palm Pilot, even my wallet.”
“I’m sure international directories can solve that problem,” suggested Tina. “Why don’t you dry yourself and put on a bathrobe? We can sort out some clothes later.”
“Thank you,” said Anna, gripping her by the hand.
“You might not thank me when you find out what you’re having for lunch. Mind you, I wasn’t expecting a guest, so you’ll have to make do with leftover Chinese.”
“Sounds great,” said Anna, as she stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around her.
“See you in a couple of minutes,” said Tina, “by which time the microwave should have completely finished off my gourmet offering.” She turned to leave.
“Tina, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why do you continue to work for Fenston, when you obviously detest the man as much as I do?”
Tina hesitated. “Anything but that,” she eventually replied. She closed the door quietly behind her.
14
RUTH PARISH PICKED up her outside line.
“Hi, Ruth,” said a familiar voice, about to deliver an unfamiliar message. “It’s Ken Lane over at United, just to let you know that our flight 107, bound for New York, has been ordered to turn back, and we’re expecting it to touch down at Heathrow in about an hour.”
“But why?” asked Ruth.
“Details are a bit sketchy at the moment,” Ken admitted, “but reports coming out of JFK suggest there’s been a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers. All U.S. airports have been ordered to ground their planes, and won’t be allowing any incoming flights until further notice.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Around one thirty our time. You must have been at lunch. You can get an update on any news station. They’re all carrying it.”
Ruth picked up the remote control from her desk and pointed it toward the TV screen.
“Will you be putting the Van Gogh in storage?” asked Ken, “or do you want us to return it to Wentworth Hall?”
“It certainly won’t be going back to Wentworth,” said Ruth. “I’ll lock the painting up in one of our customs-free zones overnight and then put it on the first available flight to New York once JFK lifts the restrictions.” Ruth paused. “Will you confirm an ETA about thirty minutes before your plane is due to touch down so I can have one of my trucks standing by?”
“Will do,” said Ken.
Ruth replaced the receiver and glanced up at the TV. She tapped out the number 501 on her remote control. The first image she saw was a plane flying into the South Tower.
Now she understood why Anna hadn’t returned her call.
As Anna dried herself, she began to speculate on what possible reason Tina could have to go on working for Fenston. She found herself shaking her head. After all, Tina was bright enough to pick up a far better job.
She pulled on her friend’s bathrobe and slippers, placed the key on its chain back around her neck and put on her one-time watch. She looked at herself in the mirror; the outward façade had considerably improved, but Anna still felt queasy whenever she thought about what she had been through only a few hours before. She wondered for how many days, months, years it would be a recurring nightmare.
She opened the bathroom door and maneuvered her way down the corridor, avoiding the ashy footprints she’d left on the carpet. When she walked into the kitchen, Tina stopped laying the table and handed over her cell phone.
“Time to call Victoria and warn her what you’re up to.”
“What am I up to?” asked Anna.
“For starters, ask her if she knows where the Van Gogh is.”
“Locked up in a customs-free zone at Heathrow would be my bet, but there’s only one way to find out.” Anna dialed 00.
“International operator.”
“I need a number in England,” said Anna.
“Business or residential?”
“Residential.”
“Name?”
“Wentworth, Victoria.”
“Address?”
“Wentworth Hall, Wentworth, Surrey.”
There was a long silence before Anna was informed, “I’m sorry, ma’am, that number is ex-directory.”
“What does that mean?” asked Anna.
“I can’t give out the number.”
“But this is an emergency,” insisted Anna.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I still can’t release that number.”
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“But I’m a close personal friend.”
“I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England, I repeat, I’m unable to give out that number.” The line went dead. Anna frowned.
“So what’s plan B?” asked Tina.
“No choice but to get myself to England somehow and try to see Victoria so I can warn her what Fenston’s up to.”
“Good. Then the next thing to decide is which border you’re going to cross.”
“What chance have I got of crossing any border, when I can’t even go back to my apartment and pick up my things—unless I want the whole world to know I’m alive and kicking.”
“There’s nothing to stop me going to your place,” said Tina. “Tell me what you want and I can pack a bag and—”
“No need to pack,” said Anna. “Everything I want is ready and waiting in the hallway—don’t forget I was expecting to fly to London this evening.”
“Then all I need is the key to your apartment,” said Tina.
Anna unclasped the chain round her neck and handed over her key. “How do I get past the doorman?” asked Tina. “He’s bound to ask who I’ve come to see.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Anna. “His name is Sam. Tell him you’re visiting David Sullivan and he’ll just smile and call for the elevator.”
“Who’s David Sullivan?” asked Tina.
“He’s got an apartment on the fourth floor and rarely entertains the same girl twice. He pays Sam a few dollars every week to keep them all blissfully unaware that they are not the only woman in his life.”
“But that doesn’t solve the cash problem,” said Tina. “Don’t forget you lost your wallet and credit card in the crash, and all I have to my name is about seventy dollars.”
“I took three thousand dollars out of my account yesterday,” said Anna. “Whenever you’re moving a valuable painting, you can’t risk any holdups, so you have to be prepared to take care of the odd baggage handler along the way. I’ve also got another five hundred in the drawer by the side of my bed.”
“And you’ll need to take my watch,” said Tina.
Anna took off her watch and swapped it with Tina’s.
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