The Swap

by Nancy Boyarsky

Just as she reached the door to the next car, it opened, and the second man, the skinny one, was standing in her path. She turned to run away, but the fat one was right behind her, sliding his arm around her neck and pressing something hard against the side of her head. “This ‘ere’s a gun,” he said. “Now you’re gonna to do what I say, nice and quiet. That way, I won’t have to hurt you.”

  He marched her back down the aisle, shoved her into a seat and squeezed in next to her. The other man sat across from them and rested his elbows on the seat back in front of him, staring glumly ahead.

  The fat one pushed the gun into her ribs just under her left breast and edged his bulk closer. The smell was overpowering.

  “That’s the girl,” he said. “We’re gonna have ourselves a nice little trip. A couple of stops up we got a car waiting. We all get off, real friendly and co-op-er-a-tive like. You scream or try anythin’ silly, you’re dead. You got it?” He poked her with the gun. “The guv’nor wants to talk to you. You answer a couple a questions, we drive you home. That’s all there is to it. In’t it, Kevin?”

  Instead of answering, Kevin turned and stared at him.

  “That’s right,” Fatso muttered to himself. “Just tell him what he wants to know an’ you’re off the ‘ook.”

  Nicole’s eyes were scanning the walls and ceiling of the car. Even if the train was completely automated, she reasoned, there must be a system that monitored the cars for muggings and other emergencies. Just then she spotted a small, glass-fronted red box labeled FIRE ALARM. It was across the aisle and several rows up, too far away to be of any use.

  “About the other day,” the fat one breathed into her ear. “We jus’ wanted to give you a message. Nobody was supposed to get…”

  “Chazz!” Kevin said in a low, warning voice.

  The fat man was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Never mind about that. Now we have a chance to get ac-quain-ted.” As he spoke, he relaxed the gun and ran his knuckles over her breast.

  When she batted his hand away, he used the gun to poke her hard in the ribs. The pain made her eyes sting, but she was determined not to cry. “You’ve made a mistake,” she said. “I’m not who you think.”

  He was silent, his small, dark eyes regarding her attentively.

  “You say you know my husband,” she went on. “But you’re wrong. I’m married to Brad Graves. He’s an executive with a software company. He doesn’t know you.”

  The man smiled, as if amused by the anger in her voice. “Brad Graves,” he repeated in a high, mocking voice. “’E’s an executive with a soff-air company.” He wagged his head in exaggerated imitation. Then he turned to the second man, the one he called Kevin, and repeated Brad’s name with a derisive snort. “That’s the bloke, innit?”

  “No, it isn’t!” She was almost shouting now, as if by insisting loudly enough, she could force him to admit his mistake. “You’re looking for someone else,” she went on. “Tell me — it’s Frederick Lowry, isn’t it?”

  Instead of answering, Chazz gazed at her with amused interest, a look not dissimilar to the way a butterfly collector might regard an especially exotic specimen before applying chloroform. He seemed entertained by the fact that she could not only speak but was challenging his judgment. It was useless trying to reason with him.

  The train had reached another station where several people were waiting on the platform. His grip on her arm tightened, and he pressed the gun into her side. Surely, as more passengers boarded, someone would enter their car. That would be the time to scream and put up a fight. She doubted the fat man would use his gun. At the museum, the pair of them had behaved like cowards, quick to run away when they thought someone was coming. The very act of leaving a car bomb was cowardly.

  She held her breath, watching the door, but no one appeared. Soon the train would start up again, and it would be too late. Summoning all her strength, she jerked away from him in an attempt to get up. She had nothing in mind, except a vague plan to hurl herself over the back of the next seat, scramble to her feet and run.

  She managed to rise only part way before he yanked her back and twisted her arm behind her. The pain was excruciating. “Stop!” she screamed. “You’re breaking my arm!”

  At last, Kevin said, “The guv’ told us we wasn’t to hurt her, Chazz. Get her and bring her along, but don’t hurt her. That’s what he said.”

  “Shut yer face, Kevin,” Chazz said. “It’s not my fault if she won’t do what she’s told.” Despite the words, his grip on her arm relaxed.

  As the pain subsided, Nicole swallowed a deep gulp of air. The car seemed unbearably hot. Her clothes were sticking to her, and a trickle of sweat ran down her face. She thought of her self-defense class, but the techniques she’d learned had abandoned her. Dimly, she understood there was something she was supposed to do, a trick that might persuade them to let her go. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was.

  Already the train was underway again, hurtling toward the next station. She had a sudden vision of Alice, limp and lifeless, sprawled in a deserted alley or stuffed into a dumpster. Her stomach contracted, and she felt as if she was going to be sick. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, in an attempt to fight it off.

  If she was going to save herself, she had to do something now. By the time they forced her from the train it would be too late.

  It wasn’t long before the train slowed and came to another stop. The men stood up. “This is it,” Chazz said, his voice loud in the sudden quiet. He pulled Nicole out of her seat. Then he and the other man began to herd her toward the exit. “No funny stuff,” Chazz said. To emphasize his point, he poked her again with the gun.

  Just then, she heard something at the back of the car, a whooshing sound she recognized as the door opening. Kevin must have heard it, too, because he looked around and released her arm. She turned to see what he was staring at.

  A man wearing a conductor’s hat was observing them from the shadows of the doorway to a short passage leading to the car behind theirs. He was holding something that resembled a baseball bat.

  By now, Chazz had turned to look. His body was angled slightly toward her, and his hand still gripped her left arm. The sight of him standing like that brought it all back — the hand-to-hand exercises they’d practiced with the instructor. Chazz was in the perfect position. She heard movement behind them and sensed the conductor heading toward them. This was her chance.

  She turned toward Chazz and quickly slammed her knee into his groin with every bit of her strength. When they’d practiced in class, the instructor had been wearing a padded body suit, with a specially designed codpiece for protection.

  This time, instead of the rigid armor, she felt a soft pouch of flesh that flattened as her knee collided with the bone beneath. The impact sent a shock of pain through her kneecap and down her leg. But this was nothing compared to its effect on Chazz. He let out a high-pitched scream like the cry of a wild animal. Then he doubled up, clutching his crotch, and crumpled to the floor.

  Meanwhile, Kevin took off, bolting from the train. Through the window, she saw him streak along the platform toward the exit.

  Only when the train began moving again did Nicole realize she was free. Inexplicably, she felt a fresh wave of panic. She bolted for the door to the next car, jabbed the button to open it and ran. Although the danger had passed, she couldn’t seem to stop running. As if pursued by demons, she tore through the rest of the train, passing a handful of passengers who stared as she ran by.

  When she reached the front car, she stopped; panting for breath, she dropped into a seat. The car held four other passengers sitting in a cluster, Asian men in business suits. For the briefest moment, they regarded her curiously then averted their eyes.

  As she sat there, sweating and trying to calm herself, she remembered the conductor, the man whose sudden appearance had saved her. Still trembling, she wondered why she’d run away without stopping to explain what had happened or even
to thank him for saving her. It occurred to her that Chazz might be seriously wounded. From what she’d learned in class, however, the pain she’d inflicted was only temporary. No doubt the conductor and whatever crew was onboard would detain Chazz and, presumably, summon law enforcement to meet them at a station down the line. She had the feeling the conductor would soon send someone in search of her. She’d be asked questions for some form they’d have to fill out.

  The train continued along its route, stopping at each station, but no one came looking for her. As far as she could tell, the police weren’t waiting to meet the train at any of these stops, nor did anyone get off who remotely resembled Chazz. At last they reached her station; she stood up and got off. Eventually, she’d have to report the incident to Keaton or someone else. At the moment, however, it was a relief to walk away without having to face another round of questioning.

  The train had disappeared down the track, presumably carrying Chazz and her unknown rescuer to stations beyond. She rode the escalator from the depths of the system up to the street and hailed a cab. On the way back to Chiswick, she checked her phone for calls or messages. It was dead; she’d forgotten to recharge it. As the cab traveled on, she tried to remember what the conductor had looked like. In her mind’s eye, he bore a striking resemblance to Reinhardt. This she recognized as a trick of memory. She’d been too frightened, her glimpse of him too brief to register any detail of his face.

  The Lowrys’ phone was ringing when she reached the front porch, but by the time she unlocked the door, it had stopped. She was certain the call had been from Brad. He’d probably been trying to reach her on her cell and couldn’t get through. Although she and Brad hadn’t spoken much at breakfast, she had mentioned that she was planning to spend the day at the Victoria and Albert.

  He’d done his best to dissuade her. “Why are you running all over London?” he said. “The doc told you to take it easy for a few days. And I worry about you.”

  She told him she’d be back around 3:00 p.m., and now it was past 5:00. He’d probably been calling her for the last two hours and was now arranging to leave work so he could come home and check on her. Perhaps he’d even called the police.

  She turned and went into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and called his office.

  “He’s not in, luv,” the man told her.

  Nicole’s stomach tightened. “Is Brenda there?”

  “Uh-h-h. Seems to me I saw her a while back. Hang on. We’ll have a look.”

  It was a minute or two before Brenda came on the line. “Hi, there,” she said. Her voice was throaty and flirtatious, as if she thought she knew who was calling.

  “Brenda, it’s Nicole,” Nicole said, “I want to leave a message for Brad.”

  “Brad?” Brenda repeated. “But I thought…”

  “What?” Nicole said. “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” Brenda said slowly. “I mean, I thought he was with you.” She paused, and her voice grew more anxious. “He said he was taking you to the doctor.” Then she added in a small voice, “You mean you don’t know where he is?”

  After they hung up, Nicole fought a growing sense of dread. Any satisfaction she might have drawn from Brenda’s discomfort was overshadowed by the larger question of Brad’s whereabouts — how he’d spent the afternoon.

  One thing was undeniable. Whatever Brad was up to, he was now lying to both her and Brenda.

  Fifteen

  By the time she reached the upstairs bedroom, the phone was ringing again. It was Brad. “I hear you’ve been looking for me,” he said.

  “I wondered where you’d gone,” she said, “that required making up a story about taking me to the doctor.”

  “Oh, yeah, well …” He gave a quick, frustrated laugh. “Look, I just got back to the office, and it’s a mad house. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

  She was silent.

  “Nick?”

  “Why can’t you just give me a straight answer?”

  “I’ve got people in my office, waiting to talk to me.” He lowered his voice again. “Come on, honey, it’s something good. You know — for us, for our future. Have some faith. It’s not what you think.”

  She sighed, wondering if he could possibly imagine what she was thinking. “Alright.”

  “Look, I’ll be a little late. Seven thirtyish. Maybe quarter to eight.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Come on, Nick. Don’t be like that…”

  Before he could finish, she hung up. She went over to the window and stared out, recalling the events of the afternoon, the fact that Brad had been missing when Alice disappeared from the restaurant.

  For the first time, it struck her that Chazz and Kevin might have had a third partner, someone to drive them from Canary Wharf to where they intercepted her. The driver would have then raced ahead to a prearranged stop where the two men planned to take her off the train. It was crazy to think Brad was part of this. Whatever his failings, he’d never associate with criminal types like Chazz and Kevin, much less drive their getaway car. Yet the events of the last few days had created a new reality where anything seemed possible.

  She was still standing at the window when the phone went off again. She picked it up on the second ring.

  “Oh, Nicole, thank God!” It was her sister’s voice. “I couldn’t reach you, and I was getting really worried. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Nicole said. “I hope you’re calling to say you heard from the Lowrys.”

  “No such luck,” Stephanie said glumly. “Listen, I have a bit of bad news. But there’s no real harm done, so don’t get upset, all right?”

  “Just say it.”

  “Right,” Stephanie said. “Someone broke into your condo last night. When I got here a little while ago, the place was a mess. Some of the drawers were dumped out in the bedroom and study. Fortunately, nothing seems to be missing, so maybe they were scared off before they had a chance to take anything. I checked your jewelry, Mom’s silver service, the TV, and speakers. It’s all here.” Then she added, “Oh, except for Brad’s laptop, but he took that with him, didn’t he?”

  “Of course,” Nicole said. “Well, everything’s all right then.” She did her best to sound calm.

  “I’m not sure,” Stephanie said. “Something weird is going on with your phone. Like, when I’m here watering your plants and it rings? As soon as I say hello, they hang up. Just now, while I was checking around to see what was missing, it happened again.”

  “My God, Steph,” Nicole said. “Are you telling me you’re alone there? Didn’t you call the police?”

  “Of course I did. They’ll be here any minute. Look, Nicole, after all that’s happened, don’t you think you should come home? We can’t leave this place unoccupied. It’s an invitation for the burglar to come back and finish the job.”

  Nicole was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I’m afraid I can’t leave London just yet.” Bracing herself for her sister’s reaction, she described her troubles with Brad, including a somewhat amended account of his strange secretiveness.

  There was a long silence. Then Stephanie said, “I’m really sorry, but I can’t say I’m surprised or that I didn’t already have a pretty good suspicion …” The phone crackled, and Stephanie’s voice cut out, a reminder of the thousands of miles of ocean and land that separated them. The link was reestablished in time for Stephanie’s summation: “… they’re all alike, every one of them.”

  It wasn’t necessary to ask Stephanie to repeat herself. Instead, Nicole said, “So I’m sure you understand how important it is for me to stay here long enough to straighten things out.”

  “I can’t imagine why you think you can straighten it out,” Stephanie sighed. “Or why you want to stay in a city with terrorists planting car bombs. I mean, did they ever catch those guys?”

  “Listen, Steph, getting involved in a random act of terrorism is like being struck by lightning. It isn’t going to happen agai
n — at least not to me. Really. That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”

  “I’d feel better if you were home,” Stephanie said. “And what are we going to do about the condo?” She was quiet a moment, then, “Hey, I know! I’ll close up my place and stay here until you get back.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Nicole said quickly. “Just let the police know we’re out of town and leave a note for the Goodmans. They have the unit next to ours. They can keep an eye on things.”

  “But if we leave it empty, you’ll get ripped off.”

  “I don’t care about the condo. I care about you,” Nicole said. “Promise me you won’t stay there, okay?

  “Fine,” Stephanie said. “It’s a free country. If you want to support the criminal underclass by donating your household valuables, that’s your right.” She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I think I’ll keep Arnold at my place. I feel better with him around.”

  After they hung up, Nicole felt shaken, unable to take in this new development; the situation was spinning out of control, involving more and more of the people around her. It was possible, of course, that this new break-in was a coincidence, but her instincts told her that the people hunting for Lowry were behind it.

  She wondered if Stephanie might be in danger. Half a world away, it was impossible to assess the situation. Yet she had the feeling Stephanie would be all right — as long as she didn’t take it into her head to stay at the condo.

  She walked back to the window and stood gazing out at the quiet street, her mind abuzz. She remembered something Reinhardt had said about Lowry— that the police wanted to talk to him because someone he knew was under investigation. Now that she thought about it, this seemed odd. The law firm she worked for rarely handled criminal cases. But in cases she’d read about, the police never went to this much trouble to track down anyone who wasn’t party to the crime under investigation. Sure, they made an effort to find key witnesses, but these were usually people who needed immunity to testify, as well as protection from their former associates.