Samantha sat there, the dismissal papers in her lap, hands limply holding the pages. Brightly glanced at her.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he said. “I’m not going to let you sit there and read the entire thing. Get out. Go chum up with your policeman and discuss it with him.”
Samantha stood and walked out to the hall. There were already men waiting on Brightly, legs crossed and calmly reading. The secretary scribbled away as she always did. Samantha walked to the elevator and the operator was there, still tiny and shriveled and smiling. He took her down to the lobby and she walked out to the street.
The sun was out and the air was warm. It seemed an unfair thing to grant the city such a blessing when she felt so lost. She wiped her eyes but found the tears were few. Then as she walked to the corner to hail a cab she saw the limousine parked by the curb, Wilford the driver dutifully polishing the hood.
She called out and rushed over to the car. She could see someone sitting in the back, hands in their lap. She got to the window and knocked against it and stooped to speak to Evans inside, but instead of Evans it was a tall, bearded gentleman in a bowler. He stared at her, astonished.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly. She stood and stepped away.
“What’s the matter, Miss Fairbanks?” asked Wilford.
“What happened to Mr. Evans?” she asked him.
“Mr. Evans?”
“Yes, Willie. You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes, a day or two ago. Can’t say what happened to him, ma’am,” he said. “Drove him down to the central cradle two days ago, on his orders.”
“To board a ship?” she asked.
“He didn’t say, ma’am.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much,” he said. “Nothing at all. Just sat there. Looking out the window. He might have caught a ship, I suppose.” Then Wilford frowned and said, “He shook my hand.”
“He what?”
“He shook my hand. He’d never done that before. Said I was a good driver, which was odd, too. He never does such things.”
Samantha nodded and said softly, “What you love doesn’t love you.”
“Pardon, ma’am?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Goodbye, Willie. Have a nice day.”
“Won’t be hard,” he said, returning to polishing. “Sun’s out. Seems like the first time in years.”
“Yes,” she said, and walked away.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Samantha was not sure where to go. Her apartment was watched, she knew that, and though she couldn’t imagine what McNaughton would want with her now, she knew it didn’t trust her and would take whatever measures it felt necessary. Garvey was being watched as well, that was almost certain. So she was not very surprised to find herself returning to Hayes’s little safe house off the Wering Canal.
She opened the door with the little pearl key and walked in and sat on the bed. She very much wanted to lie down and rest and forget everything.
“Where have you been?” said a voice.
She jumped and looked around and found Hayes sitting calmly behind the door, hands in his lap. The top of his brow was frogskin-white with scar tissue but his eyes were steady.
“Where was I? Where were you?” she demanded.
“Out working,” he said.
“Working? On what?”
“On the case, of course.” He seemed irritated with the question.
“The case?” she said, furious. “The case? There isn’t any case!”
“Certainly there is.”
“No, there isn’t! Not anymore! We’ve all been sacked, you damn fool! Haven’t you realized?”
“Sacked? What? When?”
“Just now! Just when I went to go see Brightly!”
“Why did you go see Brightly?” he asked, mystified.
“God. You really have no idea, do you.” She sat down on the bed and pulled up an old newspaper from the floor and threw it at him. It tumbled into his arms like a wounded duck. “Go on, then,” she said. “Read.”
Hayes opened up the newspaper. It did not take long, as the story was on the front page and all the other stories seemed to be about it. Soon the look of confusion melted out of his face to be replaced with one of aching weariness. He shut his eyes and held his brow with one hand.
“Oh, Sam,” he said. “Sam, Sam. You didn’t need to do that.”
“Do what? Help Donald? Of course I had to. You knew what I was out to do.”
“Oh, I knew that. I knew you would never let him be thrown to the dogs. But you should have waited. You should have left it up to me, Sam.”
“To you!” she said. “To you, who got us all into this mess? Who got poor Mr. Evans fired, not to mention myself? Who disappears without a word? To you? Good God, Mr. Hayes, why on Earth would I leave anything of importance in the hands of a man like you?”
Hayes took a breath. He seemed to be steeling himself. “It’s a question of leverage,” he said.
“Of leverage?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
He blinked, startled. “Well, you used everything you had to get Garvey off,” he said. “And they took you for it, and Evans. But I think I can get us something more, Sam. Something bigger.”
She slowly sat back down on the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure yet. But something stinks about all this. And I think I can find out what.”
“Stinks about what? About what happened to Donald?”
“No. About what we saw and heard down there in the tunnels.”
Samantha frowned at him. “What do you mean? Are you talking about… about blackmail?”
He shrugged.
“Blackmailing who? The unions?”
“No. McNaughton, Sam.”
“McNaughton?” she said, confused. “With what? And how would blackmailing McNaughton help Donald?”
“I can’t say yet. As I said, I’m not sure. But if my hunch is right then this isn’t over yet. We can still set things aright. But I need something from you, Sam.”
She laughed hollowly. “What more could you need? After all this?”
“Just something little. Something small.” He leaned forward, eyes skirting the floor of the room as he thought. “When you did your research at McNaughton, there was a Records floor, the nineteenth floor, right? You spent a lot of time there, yes?”
“Well. Yes.”
“And they let you have access to budgetary files, didn’t they?”
“Yes, of course they did.”
“All right. And somewhere in there was the budget for Local Securities. There was a room for it, probably, a separate room. Big and black, locked down tight. Wasn’t there?”
“Yes. They made sure never to tell me about it, but I saw it there, yes.”
“And you had the key,” he said desperately. “A light key. Tell me they gave it to you, Sam.”
“But why-”
“Never mind why. Just please, tell me they trusted you with that.”
“Yes, they did. The key they gave me opened any door on the filing floor, but I never used it for Local Securities. Someone said if I tried to access those files then they ask you about it immediately. They have some sort of logging system for the keys, I have no idea how it works.”
“That doesn’t matter. Where’s the key?”
“It’s in my apartment. In Newton. It’s being watched, though.”
“I know it’s being watched, I swung by there and saw them. But you’re sure? You’re sure it’s there, Sam?”
“I’m sure. I keep all my keys and important file work in my desk.”
“Which desk?”
“It’s the one I brought with me from home. You’ll notice it, it’s the ugliest thing in the apartment.”
He stood up. “Then let’s hope they haven’t ransacked the place yet.”
“You’re going?” she asked, surprised.
&
nbsp; “Yes. I need that key, Sam. I’ve stolen and stored up a great deal of keys in my day, but that one’s always eluded me. If there’s anything to be found, it’ll be in that little room.”
“But even if you manage to get the key, you still can’t get into the Nail! They’ll be looking for you, they’ll know they can’t let you in!”
“I don’t plan on going myself, Sam,” he said darkly. “In fact, I’m probably going to do something I’d never consider doing otherwise. Stay here. There’s nowhere else that’s safe yet. And things are going to get a lot more dangerous out there.” He went to the door and opened it. The gray waterfall of the canal was still surging along out front and he pulled his scarf tight against its fine rain.
“If you find what you’re looking for,” said Samantha, “if you find what we need, will that help Donald? Or us?”
He stopped to look back at her. “Us, no. Garvey, maybe. But I honestly have no idea, Sam. I really don’t.” Then he shut the door and was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Hayes went northeast to where Netwon met the Sound and enormous town houses lined its shores. It was a famously pretty area called the Garden District, as it showcased the few picturesque scraps of coastline and the only worthwhile parks. He checked his watch as he entered the park lanes that led down to the water, but it wasn’t necessary. He could already tell by the colorful lights beyond that the Tidetop Market was about to start.
The idea for the Market had originally been taken from Dockland, where it was common for small watercraft to be refitted as seaborne vending booths, little houseboats and sturdy rafts that flitted back and forth to harry ships and people on the shore for business. On weekend mornings they would all cling to the wharfs and the docks, setting up temporary markets where one could buy all sorts of exotic fruits and spices and meats, not to mention goods that had arrived in the country by suspicious means and could not be sold anywhere else. And then someone in the Garden District had thought that was a very clever idea indeed and chose to organize their own cleaner, more upstanding version of the same thing, arranged as a community festival. It soon came to be considered one of the most charming attractions Evesden had to offer.
The boats were strictly screened by the organizers. Nothing of any ill repute or anything too upsetting. An exotic atmosphere was encouraged, however, and the boats themselves had to be specially engineered. Some mechanical genius had figured out a way for all the boats to latch onto one another, forming a tight grid of little dinghies and skiffs that reached out into the water. Once they were secure, fans of the market could wander through the bobbing paper lanterns and waterborne shops, sometimes stopping to watch a fantastic meal prepared on a bed of coals on the steel floor of a pontoon. It was a popular place for children of the wealthy, and if you didn’t want to spend time in the market you could always get a table at Sutherland’s, the restaurant just down the river, and watch the multicolored lights drift and dip along the water.
Hayes got to the market just as evening began, dressed in his very best suit. He waited at the bar of a wine booth that had a clear view of the market entrance, sipping rice wine as slowly as he could. He wondered how long he would have to wait. Hopefully it would not be for more than an hour; the market would soon be a crowded place, and he already felt the uncomfortable itching at the backs of his eyes that told him a migraine was coming. But he knew his man took his family to the Tidetop Market every time he could, so surely he’d be here eventually.
Hayes was right. He arrived just after seven, arm in arm with his lovely wife, his daughters precious in their little blue and red dresses. Hayes guessed the one in red was Jessica, as he remembered she was the older one, and the child in blue would be Honoria. They had grown since he’d last seen them. The wife, Elizabeth or whatever, she seemed to be doing all right, smiling emptily into the night sky. And Teddy seemed to be doing fine as well. Old Teddy Montrose from Telecommunications, gleefully ignorant as always. He should have been thanking God and Jesus and Mother Mary he’d never put a toe out of line, considering what Brightly had on him.
Hayes rose and tracked the family through the market, watching them stop among the flower booths to purchase a crackly little pastry from a woman in a straw hat. Hayes browsed booths in their wake, watching out of the corner of his eye and nodding absently as the vendors tried to talk him into a deal. Then when Teddy split off to go buy something special for the girls Hayes made his move.
He crossed to the other side of the market, then turned and began weaving across the pathways toward Teddy. When he came into view Hayes stopped with an amiably confused look on his face and said, “Teddy?”
Teddy slowed as he passed, then stopped, a puzzled smile on his face. “Yes?”
“Teddy Montrose? Is that you?”
“Well, yes,” said Teddy. “Have we…”
Hayes grinned and laughed gaily, throwing out his arms like a long-separated relative. “Why, don’t say you don’t remember me, Teddy old boy! Don’t say you’ve forgotten me?”
Teddy laughed with him. “Well, I’m… I’m sorry, I really… It’s my fault, I really don’t recall…”
“Why, it’s old Carter, from the company,” said Hayes. He stuck his hand out and gave him a robust shake. “John Carter. Marketing Division. We met on the trip, last year. Don’t you remember?”
“Business trip?” said Teddy. “Last year?”
“Yes, certainly. We had a rousing old time with the boys, didn’t we? Had a lot of fun, right, Teddy? Got up to some trouble?”
“From the business trip?” said Teddy again, now no longer trying to hide his confusion. “But to where?”
“To Dockland, Teddy,” said Hayes. He lowered his voice. “To Dockland.”
Teddy’s brow crinkled. “What? I never went to Dockland. Not on business. I would never go to such a place.”
“But you did, Teddy,” said Hayes. His voice dropped to a murmur, nearly drowned out by the little flute quartet playing in a booth nearby. “You did. You went to Stella’s, don’t you remember? And you got up to so much fun there. With the boys and all. Do you remember?”
Teddy snapped to attention at the mention of that name. He stared at Hayes and the color drained from his face. “Wh-what did you say?”
“The boys, Teddy,” said Hayes softly. “Don’t you remember all the fun you had with the boys?”
Teddy began to tremble. He swallowed and said, “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned and began to leave.
“I don’t think I’d be leaving if I were you, Teddy,” said Hayes, louder. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
Teddy froze and looked back. “Wise? What do you mean?”
Hayes did not say anything. He just smiled grimly at him.
Teddy walked closer. “What do you mean? What do you want?”
Hayes pointed up the river at Sutherland’s. “To talk, Teds. There, at the restaurant. I’ll be at the bar at nine. And we’ll talk then, Teddy. Discuss what’s to be done with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nine,” said Hayes. “Be there. That’s all you need to know.”
“You can’t… you can’t do this to me,” whispered Teddy.
“I’m absolutely sure I can,” Hayes said. “Tell your wife you met a business partner. One with important news. Or tell her whatever you fucking like, it’s nothing to me. But you had better be there.”
“Or what?”
“Or else, this?” he said. He waved about at the market, then at Teddy’s family. Then he brought his hand to his face and blew into his fingers, as though he’d blown them apart into nothing. Then he smiled at Teddy and ran one finger along the brim of his hat and walked away.
Teddy was there at eight forty-five, covered in clammy sweat and shaking like a newborn lamb. He came and sat before Hayes, bent like a mourner, eyes adrift.
“What did you tell the wife?” asked Hayes.
“B-business partner,” said Teddy. Tears began
spilling from his eyes to dribble down his cheeks.
Hayes glanced out the window at the flotilla of the market. “They’re out on the boats now?”
He nodded.
“All right. We’ll try to make this quick, then.”
“How do you know?” asked Teddy desperately. “How do you know about… about…”
Hayes decided to give him the truth. About Brightly and the days of following him. Hayes couldn’t help but talk about the man’s family as he did, discussing little Honoria and Jessica and the days he’d spent watching them. With each passing minute Teddy grew paler and paler. Finally he began sobbing outright.
“I’m a sick man,” he cried at the end of it. “I’m a sick, sick man.”
“Here now, buck up, Ted.” Hayes glanced around the bar. “You don’t want us thrown out, do you?”
“I’m such a sick man! So sick!”
“Yes,” said Hayes tersely. “Yes, I rather expect you are. Very sick.”
“I tried to stop. I tried to stop it. Tried not to go there. But
I-”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No,” he whispered. “No, I couldn’t.”
“No,” said Hayes tersely. “No, your kind usually can’t. But there’s no reason to get upset. We can keep it quiet, Teddy.”
Teddy sniffed and wiped his eyes. Snot was streaming from his nose now. “What is it you want? Money?”
“No. No, not money.”
“Then what?”
“Just a favor. You just have to do something for me.”
Hayes laid it out for him, nice and neat. What he wanted and how he expected to get it. He spoke as slowly as he could, making it easy for the man’s distressed mind. Then he took out Samantha’s light key and laid it on the table next to his drink. It had been easy to get, no one competent had been stationed near her apartment. Teddy stared at the key through jellied eyes, lips still quaking.
The Company Man Page 31
