The Manhattan Puzzle

by Laurence O'Bryan

  He rubbed at it. ‘Hey, quit it.’

  Isabel’s head felt as if it had been in an oven. Her body felt equally bad, bloated, lethargic. Her eyes didn’t even want to focus.

  ‘You got any coffee, any painkillers?’

  ‘Just made a pot, and there’s some Tylenol in the cabinet back there.’ Greg waved in the direction of the toilet.

  She found the tablets, washed her face, and got herself a mug of coffee. She still didn’t feel right, but at least her eyes were focusing as she stood beside Greg peering at the screen in front of them.

  ‘What did you find?’

  He turned to her. There was a pleased look on his face. ‘You know this stuff ain’t available to any internet junkie who can Google?’

  ‘Tell her, Greg. Cut the BS,’ said Laura.

  ‘Okay, I know a website that tracks vehicles coming and going through the Lincoln Tunnel and a couple of bridges.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I put your license plate in it, and guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tell her, Greg.’

  ‘That plate passed through the Lincoln Tunnel twice in the past two hours.’

  ‘Twice!’

  ‘Yeah. At 18:58 it went through heading for Jersey. And fifteen minutes ago it came back!’

  ‘Going back to BXH, I’d say,’ said Laura. She sounded excited.

  ‘Can you track the car in Manhattan?’

  ‘I’ll have a look.’

  Isabel leaned towards him. ‘Please, Greg. I need to find my husband.’

  The phone on his desk started warbling. Greg picked it up before he answered her. It was the first time in her life she saw someone go from pale to bone white in two seconds.

  ‘Thanks, Steve,’ was all he said.

  He reached forward, grabbed his mouse, clicked at a skull icon on his screen, and as the screen went blank he spoke quickly, looking up at them, his eyes wide, frightened looking.

  ‘We gotta go. Some fucking idiots are on the way up. Come on.’ He was almost shouting. And there was a note of desperation in his voice.

  He leaped out of his chair. The air in the room felt suddenly heavy.

  ‘Stevie says they’re the kinda guys who shoot first, then ask who you are.’ He grabbed keys, a wallet, and put an iPad under his arm.

  Isabel was putting her jacket on. Her hands didn’t want to go through the sleeve holes.

  Was this to do with her?

  Laura had her coat on. Isabel went to the door and listened. She couldn’t hear anything outside. All she could hear was her own breathing, her heart pounding.

  ‘Could this be a mistake?’ she said.

  ‘No way. Steve’s an ace doorman.’

  He was beside her now, talking fast, peering through the spy hole.

  ‘He got a call asking who lives in 1180, that’s me, and a minute later some guys burst through the front door, then pushed some poor old girl out of the way. Then they try his door. He didn’t answer it. He’s got a half-inch steel plate on it. If he says we got seconds. We got seconds.’ He opened the door. ‘He’ll call the cops, sure, but they could get here in an hour.’

  The skin all over Isabel’s back and on her arms was tingling. She wanted to get going. She knew how important a few seconds could be.

  The elevators were to the left, around a corner, so at least whoever it was wouldn’t see them as soon as they got out at their floor.

  They were all in the corridor. The door to Greg’s room closed with a thunk.

  A distant hum echoed.

  ‘Let’s go’ said Greg. He nudged her, then took off in the opposite direction to the elevators. She followed.

  There was a bad smell in the corridor, stale food, backed up plumbing or something worse.

  Were they overreacting?

  She kept running.

  The corridor went right. Her heart was thudding from the exertion as she turned the corner. They were on the opposite side of the building to the elevators now. If they kept going they’d come all the way around. Where were they heading?

  Greg stopped, rapped on a door.

  Laura and Isabel reached him as it opened. As it did they heard a loud cracking noise, like something being broken, behind them. A muscle in her neck started to jump.

  The door in front of them had only opened an inch. Out of the crack came lilting Chinese music, and the sweet smell of roses, as if a door into a garden had opened.

  What the hell are we doing here, thought Isabel.

  ‘Lai ho, Greg,’ a reed-like voice said.

  ‘Hi Bao. Can we come in?’

  Isabel saw a big dark brown eye examining her. Then she heard running in the corridor behind them. It was coming their way. There was a momentary hesitation, then the door in front of them opened wide.

  They stepped inside. It was wonderful to get out of that corridor. Bao was a slim Chinese girl, three quarters of her height, with an innocent smile and a wave of black hair that went down almost to her waist. She bowed as Isabel passed her. Then Greg closed the door, gently, and put his ear to it.

  ‘What you doing, Greg?’ Bao looked worried. One of her hands was in the air, a finger pointing to the ceiling, as if she was directing traffic or about to scream at them and tell them to disappear. She was wearing a white silk kimono

  ‘Don’t kick us out, Bao. Someone’s looking for us, and they’re not cool people.’ He shook his head and moved away from the door.

  Her apartment was all white, and almost twice as wide as Greg’s, but it had the same single window facing into the inner shaft of the building. Against one wall there was a white trolley, the kind of the thing you’d use if you were a masseuse. Above it there were certificates in Chinese.

  They could have said she’d done well in her flute lessons, for all Isabel knew. A low table stood in a corner. On the table there were the remains of a simple meal, a white cup and a bowl with a few grains of rice still in it.

  Bao touched Greg’s face, brushed her hand over his cheek.

  ‘Greg, you know you always welcome here.’ She put her head to one side, letting her hair swish in front of her.

  Greg watched her.

  ‘Thanks, Bao. You’re the best.’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘What trouble you in this time, Greg?’

  ‘Something different,’ he said.

  He walked to the window. You couldn’t make out much through the frosted glass, except patches of light and darkness.

  Isabel’s breathing was returning to normal, but a muscle in her neck was twitching. She held her palm over it. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  Was all this connected?

  Greg opened the window halfway.

  Most of the windows to the right, where Greg’s apartment was, had lights on behind them. Only one of them was out.

  Greg had turned the light out in his apartment as they were leaving.

  ‘Which one is yours?’ said Laura, softly.

  Greg’s lips started moving. He was counting.

  ‘Fourth one from the far end.’

  ‘The light’s just turned on in your apartment,’ said Laura.

  51

  Lord Bidoner held Alek’s hand as they went up in the express elevator.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he said, leaning down to Alek.

  The boy nodded. He looked pensive, unsure. His eyes were red rimmed, as if he’d been crying.

  ‘We have some food for you.’

  ‘When do I see my Daddy?’ came a little voice.

  ‘Soon, very soon. But you must be a good boy, like we warned you.’

  ‘I am.’

  Xena went into the apartment first. She took Alek’s hand in hers and led him to the panic room.

  ‘You will have a room all to yourself until your Dad arrives,’ said Xena, as they went inside.

  Alek looked at the stark white room and the big steel bed and his chin went down.

  ‘I want to go home.’ There were tears rolling
down his cheeks.

  Xena bent down to him. ‘This will be over soon,’ she said. ‘Very soon.’ She handed him a teddy bear. It was brown and still in its wrapping from the shop.

  He hugged it. The plastic wrapping scrunched.

  His tears didn’t stop. He sat on the floor, looked around, then closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. Xena watched him for a minute. She bent down and stroked his head. His whimpering became quieter.

  Then she left him alone and locked the door of the panic room so he couldn’t get out.

  Lord Bidoner was on the phone in the main room of the apartment.

  ‘Mr Pilman,’ he said. ‘Can you confirm to Mr Vaughann and your security staff that I have permission as a possible buyer for BXH, to visit the the bank and tour the building?’

  The voice at the other end came across clearly.

  ‘I will certainly do that, Lord Bidoner. I don’t think you’ll find any hidden value here, though you are welcome, as the preferred bidder at this time, to inspect the premises. I will inform Mr Vaughann and our security section that they are to cooperate with you. Though I have to tell you our head of security has gone missing and he had access to places in the building that even I have never seen.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear he’s disappeared. I hope he comes back soon.’

  Bidoner smiled. It was all going exactly as he’d planned. His Ebony Dragon hedge fund was holding a significant shareholding in BXH, they were a suitable buyer for the bank, and now he had access to even the most secret parts of the BXH building.

  And they would succeed in their takeover, now that they had Li’s money behind them. The collapse of the shares had helped, as had the cancellation of the original takeover bid. BXH was far too vulnerable now to resist a white knight in the form of a well-known hedge fund.

  He smiled to himself as he looked out at the snow being blown against the window of his apartment. Everything was falling into place. All his planning was paying off. The moment they’d been waiting for was near. Very near.

  All they had to do now was make the final sacrifice.

  52

  The muscle in Isabel’s neck started twitching faster.

  Whoever had turned the light on over there was looking for them, for her maybe.

  A dark shape filled the window of Greg’s room. She could hear Greg breathing fast beside her. There was someone very big over there.

  She licked her lips. They were rough, dry.

  Bao pushed the window closed, fast.

  ‘So sorry, I forgot, I’m expecting a customer, Greg. Will you need to stay here long?’ She wanted to get rid of them.

  Could she blame her?

  ‘Who do you think’s over there?’ said Isabel.

  She held her fist to her forehead. Her skin felt cold. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. For starters, whoever was over there had no idea that they were here.

  ‘I don’t think it’s one of my Twitter buddies,’ said Greg.

  ‘You got buddies?’ said Laura.

  ‘He got good buddies,’ said Bao. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Do you think they’re looking for me?’ said Isabel. Everyone looked at her.

  Greg shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I’ve been doing recently is researching BXH, and their stupid merger plans and then looking up that number plate for you.’

  ‘Why don’t we call the police?’ she said.

  ‘The last time someone in this building called a cop, they were dead and cold before the cop arrive,’ said Bao. She put her hand to her chest, as if she was holding something close to her.

  ‘I told you to be careful, Greg,’ she continued. Then she turned to Laura and Isabel.

  ‘The Chinese bank that was going to buy BXH eats journalists for breakfast, whole. I knew them from Hong Kong. Greg should be hiding what he’s doing. He must be very careful. I need my good customers to stay alive.’ She shook a white finger at him.

  Then she retied her white kimono. It was one of those short ones that only come down to her knee. She gave them a brief glimpse of her thighs as she did so. They were thin, pale.

  Laura and Bao were staring at her.

  ‘You okay?’ said Bao.

  ‘She lost her husband,’ said Laura.

  ‘I know what that’s like,’ said Bao. ‘There is always a piece missing inside you after something like that.’ She smiled, but it was fleeting. Then she glanced at a thin gold watch on her wrist, frowned, and shook her head fast.

  ‘So sorry’ she said. ‘No time to listen to any story.’

  Isabel’s pulse was quickening.

  ‘We’ll go,’ said Greg. He had his iPad open and was tapping at the screen.

  ‘So sorry everybody. In two minutes there’ll be a knock on this door. My customers need to relax, even when it’s snowing.’ Bao smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  This wasn’t someone who would let you impact on her money making. Not for one minute.

  ‘Why don’t you go down the fire stairs?’ said Bao.

  ‘Did they fix the lights?’ said Greg.

  ‘Sure. I use it sometimes. It’s good exercise.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. He tapped at his iPad. Bao was standing near the door staring at him.

  She couldn’t have made it any clearer that she wanted them to leave. Isabel went to the door and put her eye to the spy hole. There was nothing but blackness. Was it broken?

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ she said.

  A growl sounded from the other side of the door. It was low and was followed by a snuffling at the bottom of the door, as if a dog was trying to get in.

  ‘Your customer brings a dog, right?’ said Greg to Bao.

  ‘No.’ She motioned them away from the door. Then she pointed at the window.

  ‘There is a ladder. Go that way.’

  Isabel opened the window wide. There was a proper metal ladder running past the window to the right. It had a wire cage around it to stop you falling and was secured by iron studs pushed into the wall. ‘It’s a long way to go down.’

  There was a barking now and a banging from the front door.

  The banging stopped. It felt as if someone was listening.

  ‘When you get two floors down you knock on the window,’ whispered Bao. ‘My girlfriend down there.’

  Greg blinked. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by more, faster banging on Bao’s door. This wasn’t polite banging. This was a banging intended to test it for weaknesses.

  ‘You go first,’ Isabel said to Laura.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Laura.

  ‘You have to,’ Bao hissed.

  Laura looked from Greg to Isabel. She gripped Greg’s arm.

  ‘You can do it,’ he said. ‘You always went first when we were young.’

  She gave a fake smile, reached towards the handrail and pulled herself onto the ladder. Isabel and Greg watched her go down a few steps.

  Then Greg went after her.

  ‘Are you coming with us?’ said Isabel.

  ‘I’m not staying here,’ said Bao.

  Isabel looked over the edge of the window. It felt as if she was falling, her skin pulling back along her body. Vertigo sucked at her. She looked up the shaft, to steady herself, then grabbed the rough, cold handrail. She said a prayer under her breath and swung her body into the cage.

  Being ten floors up, even in a wire cage, was like being near the top of a cliff.

  She could feel the icy air moving into the cracks of her clothes, sliding inside, touching her skin. There was an odd smell in the shaft, as if there was something bad down below. A loud mechanical hum filled the air.

  She heard another crack, as if the door of Bao’s apartment was about to give way. She forced herself to go down the ladder, counting each step to distract herself. The thought of falling, banging against the wire, the ladder coming away from the wall, filled her mind until she could almost see it happening.

  The ladd
er was held away from the wall about three inches by metal spikes. It meant she could move down smoothly. But it was also bad, as it felt as if she was descending into thin air. And every time she looked down she had to grip the ladder so tight she was afraid it would disintegrate.

  So she looked at the wall, the bricks passing, and kept going.

  She heard a noise below, and when she looked down she could see Greg’s head. He had the beginnings of a bald patch in the centre. He was leaning out of a window.

  Snow was settling on her shoulders. Flakes landed on her nose. She kept going. She was thinking about Alek waiting for her now.

  She felt the emptiness around her, the space and air extending down and up. One slip and this wouldn’t be fun any more.

  Then she felt a hand on her legs. She moved down, grabbed the top of the window opening and went in completely.

  There was an older Chinese woman in the room. This apartment was all red. The woman was dressed in a long white kimono. She bowed to Isabel as she came in.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Isabel.

  Bao, who’d been coming down only a foot above Isabel, came in behind her and closed the window. Then she pulled across a red curtain. You couldn’t even see the window any more.

  ‘No one can tell where we went,’ said Bao. ‘I will go up later, after my number one customer comes. Nobody frightens him.’

  ‘We should go,’ said Laura. Greg was outside in the corridor looking one way then the other.

  The older Chinese woman bowed again as Isabel went past her. Isabel bowed back.

  As she closed the door Greg was waving impatiently at her and Laura from a doorway up the corridor.

  Isabel’s every muscle tensed as she looked first one way then the other. Had they done it? Had they escaped? And who the hell was that following them with the dog?

  Echoes of what she’d been through in Istanbul and Jerusalem came back to her. Was all this connected?

  She needed to think, but first of all she needed to get out of this place.

  ‘Come on, we gotta fucking go!’ hissed Greg.

  She walked fast towards the door he was waiting fifty feet down the corridor.

  When the door closed behind them she breathed properly for the first time in minutes. Then they were heading down a cold concrete stairway. All she could hear now were groans from the pipes and the bee-like hum of the fluorescent lighting. The air was freezing in the stairs, way colder than in the corridor up above. And their breath was visible as if they were smoking. She touched the metal handrail only once. It was icy and reminded her of the ladder.