‘Because I don’t trust you,’ she yelled back. ‘Because everything you do makes me suspicious of you. How did you know where to find us, for a start?’
‘I didn’t. But it was the only place at Grand Central left to look. You took a cab here, didn’t you, chowderhead? And you actually stayed at the place where the driver dropped you off. There’s a brotherhood among New York cabbies, lady. I took the guy’s number when you did your damned fool suicide dash into his cab. Took me ten minutes to get his name and phone number, and another fifteen to get my ass here. I hoped you might contact Connie. I didn’t dare go back to my place. I’m just so glad you’re here, honey.’
He reached out and touched Connie on one shoulder.
‘And I’m just so goddamned sorry,’ he added.
‘I know you are, Dom,’ Connie responded quietly.
Jones slumped forwards, resting her face in her hands. She wasn’t cut out for any of this. Everything she’d attempted to do so far had gone wrong: visiting the RECAP lab and getting arrested; trying to extract information from Ed and then ending up telling him about Connie; running away from Dom. James Bond? Indiana Jones? Eve and Villanelle? Their worlds were not hers. She didn’t fit at all. She was a disaster.
‘You think any of that makes me trust you any more, Dom?’ she asked eventually. ‘You knew Connie was alive, and you’re just the sort of man who would have the contacts to set up a hit …’
‘A hit on Marion? Me? Are you out of your mind. I’d never hurt a hair on her head.’
‘No, but maybe you’d hurt Connie. She was the target. You told me that. Maybe someone got to you, bribed you, blackmailed you. How the hell do I know? But what I do know is, I can’t think of anyone else who would have been able to set up that hit. Only you.’
Dom made a low growling sound and took a step towards Jones who just froze, still sitting on the step, looking up at him. Not again, she thought. Not more violence.
Connie stood up quickly and positioned herself between the two of them.
‘That won’t help, Dom,’ she said sternly, placing her hands on his huge chest. The big man stopped in his tracks at once, lowered his clenched fists, and took a step backwards.
‘I sure am sorry, Connie, and, you know what, I’ve never beat up a woman in my whole goddamned life. But this one sure is trying my patience. I wouldn’t do nothing to hurt you, any more than I would Marion, and I cannot believe she’s dumb enough to think I would.’
Connie sighed. ‘Look Dom, nobody but you, and poor Marion, even knows I’m alive. Sandy does have a point you know …’
‘Does she hell as like! Don’t say that, Connie. Anyway, Dr fucking Sandy Jones knows you are still alive. Maybe she set it up.’
‘You don’t believe that for a second, Dom, any more than I do.’
‘Maybe I don’t. But if it wasn’t her and it wasn’t me, who the hell could it have been? Somebody else must have known, Connie. I’m dead sure you and Marion haven’t told anyone else. And I sure haven’t. What about you, lady?’
Dom pointed a beefy finger at Jones, who shifted awkwardly on the step.
‘Sandy?’ queried Connie.
‘Well …’
‘Oh, Sandy. What have you done? Who have you told?’
‘OK. I told Ed. I sort of couldn’t help it. He was so dreadfully upset about you and Paul. He started to cry, and couldn’t stop. I just wanted to cheer him up.’
‘You just wanted to cheer him up? You put all of us at risk, to cheer Ed up?’
Connie sounded stunned and bewildered.
‘Yeah.’ Jones looked down at her feet. ‘But it didn’t occur to me that Ed wouldn’t be absolutely trustworthy …’
‘Oh, Sandy,’ said Connie again.
‘Ed would never do anything to harm you or Marion, Connie,’ Jones continued. ‘And he wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it even if he wanted to, for God’s sake.’
‘Ed mightn’t ever do anything knowingly to hurt us, but who knows what he may already have unwittingly done,’ Connie responded, her voice still low. ‘My darling Marion is at best terribly injured, at worst she could be dead. And the chances are it’s your fault, Sandy. All your fault.’
She yelled the last sentence at Jones, who knew she deserved it. If she could only put the clock back she wouldn’t have left the United Kingdom at all, that was for certain. She really had made everything worse.
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
‘Well now,’ said Dom, ‘so I’m not the only one in the frame after all.’ He glowered at Jones. ‘Know what, I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t gone and saved your goddamned arse.’
Jones winced. She still didn’t entirely trust the big man though.
Dom turned to address Connie directly.
‘I intend to look after you, Con,’ he said. ‘Because that’s what Aunt M would want.’
He paused, raised one huge paw, and rubbed at his face and eyes. The Dominator was wiping away tears.
‘Goddamn it, Connie,’ he continued. ‘I should have been able to protect Marion. I was too slow. I saw that pickup truck coming at her. I saw it, but I couldn’t get to her in time …’
Connie reached with one hand and touched his tear-stained cheek.
‘I’m sure Marion knows you tried your best, Dom,’ she told him gently. ‘I know that too.’
The Dominator took a big spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his leather jacket and blew his nose loudly. The bling on his wrists and fingers jangled.
‘Well, I’m just gonna have to make sure I do a better job for you, Connie darlin’,’ he said, looking down at her with affection and concern.
Then he glanced towards Jones and his expression changed.
‘But I’m not so sure I want anything more to do with your crazy friend,’ he scowled. ‘I done my best for her already, and look how she’s repaid me?’
Connie glanced towards Jones.
‘Yep, Sandy’s not covered herself in glory these last coupla days,’ she began. ‘But we go back a long way, and she did come here to try to help as soon as she heard about the explosion …’
Dom held up a massive hand. ‘OK. For you, Connie, we’ll keep the lady on board. We need to get you both off the streets. Go somewhere safe.’
He turned toward Jones.
‘But, just you try one more of your tricks and that’s it, Dr Dim. You’re on your own. Yeah?’
Jones nodded. She felt defeated. She was certainly totally unqualified to protect either Connie or herself. She had little choice but to go along with the Dominator.
‘Right,’ said Dom aggressively, pointing a finger at Jones. ‘You do exactly what I say, lady. Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ repeated Jones meekly.
‘Then let’s get this show on the road.’
Dom was wearing a long black scarf around his neck. He whipped it off and handed it to Connie.
‘First of all, let’s not advertise who you are, Connie darlin’,’ he said. ‘Wrap this scarf round your head and hide that damned red hair of yours. Will you?’
Connie obeyed. Her hair disappeared. She no longer looked nearly so conspicuous. Dom’s scarf worked a hell of a lot better than the unfortunate yellow baseball cap.
Then Dom turned his attention to Jones, looking her up and down.
‘That your bag?’
He gestured to the hold-all by Jones’s feet. Jones nodded.
‘Good. You gonna need to change your clothes. It will have to wait, though. I’d rather get you both away from here without wasting any more time. OK?’
‘OK,’ said Jones.
She felt anything but OK. Two days ago she had been sitting at her desk in Exeter indulging in a certain amount of self-congratulation. Since then she’d embarked on a crazy wild goose chase, been arrested, more or less kidnapped, and, finally, caught up in an attempted murder that had nearly led to her own death. Worse still, there was a possibility, although she could hardly believe it, that her own indiscretion may ha
ve precipitated that murder attempt.
And now she was a fugitive, on the run from an unknown enemy, and left with no choice but to accept the protection of a man whom she still half believed could be the enemy.
FOURTEEN
Dom hurried them outside, a big protective arm around Connie’s shoulders. Jones followed as best she could.
His cab was parked on the rank just around the corner in 42nd Street. He hustled them towards it.
‘Don’t you think this might be a target too now?’ Jones asked, pointing at the yellow vehicle.
Dom turned to look at her. ‘Who do you think is after you and Connie?’ he asked. ‘Every security force in America?’
Jones shrugged. Dom seemed to think she was being paranoid. Well there was a pretty good reason for it. A reason they’d left lying on a New York street.
‘No lady,’ continued Dom, once they were all in the cab. ‘Somebody’s after Connie, there’s no damned doubt about that, and somebody with resources. Of course they can get to me because of the apartment, and once they’ve traced me it’s on record that I work as a cabby. And of course my medallion number’s listed. But they gotta work their way through all of that. And I’ve kept the cab out of the way too, remember. Even when the truck hit you guys I was parked out of sight, and I’d been following you on foot.’
Jones mumbled assent. The Dominator was probably right. He was certainly capable, there was no doubt about that. He also seemed able to keep his head while all around were losing theirs.
Connie, meanwhile, was very quiet.
‘You all right?’ Jones asked, realizing as she spoke what a darned silly question that was.
‘What do you think?’ Connie snapped the words out.
‘Sorry,’ said Jones.
Connie’s face was red and blotchy from her tears, her eyes red-rimmed and full of pain.
‘And I’m so so sorry about Marion. I can’t believe it could have been Ed though—’
‘What? No. Of course it wasn’t Ed. I mean … not deliberately anyway.’
‘All the same, I shouldn’t have told him.’
‘No, but like you said, we all go back a long way.’
Connie sounded reasonable again. Understanding. It made Jones feel even worse.
‘Yes, we do.’
Jones felt her own tears pricking.
‘It’s OK, Sandy. Really it is.’
‘Thank you for not blaming me,’ said Jones. ‘Or not entirely, anyway …’
‘You are not responsible for any of this. You came to help. No other reason. And there’s so much … so much …’
Connie stopped suddenly, as if she’d been about to say something and had thought better of it.
‘Anyway, this is where we’re at,’ she continued. ‘And I have to find out about Marion. Dom, why can’t I phone from a pay phone? Will you pull over?’
‘Hey Connie, no way, girl.’
The big man’s voice sounded rather more highly pitched than usual.
‘Who you gonna phone, eh? The police? All the hospitals in New York? You gonna try it anonymous, you gonna get nowhere. You tell them who you are and you’re asking for big trouble.’
‘I’d be quick. This is the middle of Manhattan. We could be twenty blocks away before anyone could trace the call.’
‘You reckon? Connie darlin’, it takes exactly fifteen seconds to pinpoint a call in this city. No. Trust me, Con, for Christ’s sake, trust me. I know a safe place. I’m gonna take you there. And then I’ll find out about Marion for you. I promise you, darlin’.’
‘You will?’ Jones interjected. ‘If you’re not a target yet, Dom, you surely will be soon. How can it be any safer for you to start asking questions about Marion than it is for Connie?’
‘Yeah, well maybe I won’t do it personally.’
‘Please don’t talk in riddles.’
‘I’m going to introduce you guys to my girlfriend.’
‘To your girlfriend?’ If the situation hadn’t been so tragic Jones would probably have burst out laughing. ‘Are we off to the theatre and supper at Sardi’s or something? Are you serious? You really want to get your girlfriend into this? Or were you lying just now? Have you told her already about Connie? And are we just supposed to trust her …’
There were traffic lights ahead. The cab screeched to a sudden halt. Dom turned around, twisting his body so that he was able to thrust most of his head into the rear compartment. He reached a long, bling-jangling arm through the gap and grabbed Jones by the shoulder.
‘Will you shut the fuck up, you crazy Englishwoman,’ he growled. ‘We don’t have any goddamned choice. I haven’t told her yet, but I’m about to. Everything’s different now. In any case …’
He paused in mid-sentence, as if he too were about to say something but had changed his mind.
‘My girl’s special,’ he continued obliquely.
Jones was not impressed. All that indicated to her was that Dom was probably in love. And she’d had reason enough in her life to believe that love really is blind.
Dom drove them into the heart of Harlem, further north than Jones had ever been before, to an area the property speculators had yet to launch themselves on, a place where you still didn’t see a white face in the street. Jones hunkered down in the back, still in shock, her hands clasped to stop them shaking.
Eventually Dom turned off Harlem’s main drag, swung the cab into a narrow alley between two tall rundown-looking buildings and pulled to a halt in a yard at the back.
‘It’s a flop house, owned by a pal of mine who owes me big time,’ he told Jones and Connie, as he opened the driver’s door and stepped out of the cab.
‘You two just wait here.’
It was both a command and a warning.
Jones and Connie obediently muttered their assent. They were entirely in Dom’s hands now, and even Jones knew she just had to accept that.
The big man was back in less than five minutes.
‘Right, all they have is one big room, with a kitchen and a bathroom,’ he said. ‘And it’s not the Waldorf, that’s for damned sure, but I reckon we’ll be safe enough, for a while anyway. Now just follow me and keep quiet. We should be able to go in the back way without you two being seen.’
The back entrance to the flop house, through a narrow door beneath the fire escape, was damp and dark and smelt of something Jones did not particularly care to identify. The room was no better. It was more like a small dormitory. There were four iron-framed beds covered in dubious looking blankets. There was a kitchen area at one end, comprising a sink, a fridge, a microwave and an electric hob, none of which looked excessively clean. The door stood open to an uninviting shower room and toilet.
Jones wrinkled her nose in distaste, an involuntary gesture spotted at once by Dom.
‘I say, so sorry it’s not what you’re used to, Your Ladyship,’ he said, in what he presumably assumed was an impression of an upper-class English accent.
‘I don’t give a toss as long as a bunch of thugs with crowbars or worse don’t come bursting through the door,’ responded Jones, who was tempted to tell the big man what she thought of his pantomime of an impersonation, but didn’t have the energy.
‘OK. I’ll go find my girl,’ said Dom. ‘I’ll call her on her cell from a public phone. I doubt they’ve got to me yet, my cell phone could still be safe, but we shouldn’t take no more risks. Not after what’s happened to Marion.’
‘You can use my burner.’
Jones held out the phone.
Dom looked at it for a moment.
‘You didn’t tell me you had that,’ he said accusingly.
‘No, sorry,’ muttered Jones, who wasn’t actually sure she was sorry, or that she should even be giving Dom the phone now. But she and Connie had put themselves in his hands. There was no point in holding back.
Dom grunted. And reached out to take the burner. Then he stopped.
‘Was that the phone Ed called you on this morning?’ he
asked.
Jones nodded.
‘That could be how they traced you to my place.’
‘I told him only to call from a call box.’
‘Yeah, well maybe he didna do what he was told. Don’t you see? Phone’s almost certainly no good any more. Too dangerous to use. And the one you gave Connie.’
Jones wondered who was getting paranoid now.
‘Whatever you say,’ she muttered. ‘I bought a third phone though.’
‘You did?’
‘Not been used. It’s in my bag. I’ll get it for you.’
‘Right. But I should go out anyway. We need some food. Anyone hungry?’
Jones never got her morning tea. She and Marion hadn’t made it to breakfast. However, food and drink were the last things on her mind. And she still felt nauseous. She shook her head.
Connie looked at Dom as if he was crazy.
‘I haven’t been able to eat properly since Paul died,’ she said. ‘I feel even less like it now.’
‘I’ll bring something back anyway. We gotta be strong, and if you don’t eat you don’t stay strong.’
‘I could do with some coffee,’ said Connie.
‘Sure,’ responded Dom. ‘Maybe there’s some here …’
He opened the fridge door, rummaged for a moment or two amongst goodness knew what, and then stood up clutching a foil pack of coffee that had been opened but was held together at the top by a clip.
‘There you are. Coffee. And there’s the thing to make it with, too.’
He pointed to a filter coffee machine standing on the worktop. Jones hadn’t seen one of those in a long time.
‘Right, I’ll get off, then. Just don’t do anything stupid?’
Again neither Jones nor Connie responded. Instead they watched in silence as the big man left.
Jones took the opportunity to finally remove her dirty, torn, and blood-spattered clothing, then shower and, as ever, wash her hair. The shower turned out to be much more effective than it looked, sending out a restoratively powerful stream of piping hot water. Afterwards she dressed in a clean shirt, her Stella McCartney grey trousers, the only spare pair she had brought with her, and her leather jacket, and applied her make-up rather more heavily than usual in an attempt to at least partially disguise the damage to her face.
Cry Darkness Page 17
