The Manhattan Puzzle

by Laurence O'Bryan

  ‘We were really hoping you might be able to help us with that.’ The detective stared at her. Did she think Isabel was hiding something?

  ‘I’ll ask you a straight question now, Mrs Ryan. Do you have any plans to meet your husband?’

  ‘Are you crazy? I’m looking for him! He told me to come here.’ She raised a hand, pressed it to her forehead. This was making her mad.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ Grainger took a small leather-bound notebook from an inside pocket of her jacket.

  ‘Earlier tonight. I think it was half past six.’ Isabel closed her eyes. He’d been so close, only feet away. Why hadn’t he seen her?

  ‘Where was that?’

  ‘He was in a town car exiting the BXH car park up above. He didn’t see me.’

  ‘And you haven’t seen him since?’ Her eyes were unnaturally open, as if she rarely believed anything anyone told her, and Isabel wasn’t going to be an exception.

  ‘No, I haven’t. Have you checked hotels? BXH usually books him into one.’

  ‘We have, ma’am.’ Her smile could have cut glass.

  Isabel looked around. The SEC man, Dick Owen, looked tired. He was sitting beside Vaughann. He had his fingers steepled together. His red tie was a little off centre.

  Detective Grainger pushed her chair away from the table. She put her notebook on her knee. Vaughann whispered something into Dick Owen’s ear. The SEC guy raised his eyebrows, stared at her. Then he spoke.

  ‘You came to New York to find your husband, is that right, Mrs Ryan?’

  All eyes were on her. It sounded as if she was being investigated now.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are aware that the woman who died in London was a drug addict and a prostitute?’ said Owen.

  ‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’ said Isabel. She pointed at Vaughann. ‘You know Sean isn’t into drugs or anything like that. What the hell is going on here, a character assassination?’

  ‘We’re just trying to get to the truth,’ said Vaughann.

  63

  The GMC Yukon pulled up in the alley on the far side of 45th Street from BXH’s entrance. As the man in the back got out, a policeman looked down the alley. Then he looked away. There was nothing to see, just a nondescript businessman on his way into a nondescript office.

  The reception area of the firm Li had come to visit was on the twenty-sixth floor. It had a high ceiling and a sculpture of a bear raised up on its hind legs ready to attack.

  When Li reached the twenty-sixth floor there was no one behind the reception desk, but there were still lights on. He passed the plastic card he’d been given over the blue-lit panel at the side of the glass door. There was a click.

  The toughened glass slid open. As he walked inside a man appeared from a corner of the reception area. He appeared to have been waiting for Li.

  ‘Welcome,’ said the American. Then he bowed.

  ‘Everything is ready,’ he said, motioning towards a door.

  Li put his hand up. ‘I do not want to visit the trading floor, even if it is empty. Just tell me one thing before we talk. What is the prediction for US banking sector shares on Monday?’

  ‘They’ll dive to their lowest ever. I guarantee it,’ said the American. He grinned.

  It didn’t seem to worry him that the future of his country was being gambled over. Only one thing concerned such men, Li knew. What they can walk away with from the table.

  64

  Detective Grainger put her hands up. ‘Hold on. I don’t want any more questioning of Mrs Ryan in my presence until I advise her of her rights.’

  Isabel sat up straight. Was she serious? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

  She rubbed a hand across her forehead.

  ‘You all right with that, Mrs Ryan?’

  She nodded, though she didn’t feel all right.

  Then Grainger began. ‘Okay, Mrs Ryan. You have the right to remain silent. But anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?’

  Isabel nodded. The air in the room had cooled by ten degrees.

  ‘This is crazy. What the hell are you reading me my rights for?’ she said.

  ‘This is all just-in-case stuff, Mrs Ryan,’ Grainger gestured, waving her hand through the air, as if reading Isabel her rights was not a big deal.

  But it was a big deal.

  Did she think this conversation was going to go sour? Did she really want to do all this down the station?

  Grainger lowered her voice. Her tone was conspiratorial, even though the others at the table could hear her as well.

  ‘My friend over there from the SEC might start asking you questions, and I don’t want you incriminating yourself, and then some fancy lawyer telling us later on you hadn’t even been read your rights.’

  ‘Am I under suspicion?’ It felt as if steel bands had been placed around her chest and they were being tightened, slowly. These people were supposed to be helping her, not questioning her.

  Detective Grainger leaned back, looked up at the ceiling as if she was looking for holes or inspiration.

  ‘Look, you gotta understand. We’re investigating some real serious matters here. There’s been some brutal murders. And now we’ve a suspect who’s disappeared. And you’re related to that suspect. We’ve also got a number of alleged serious financial crimes, which are under investigation. Now, the way I see things, suspicion falls everywhere. You got that? I mean everywhere.’ She looked across the room at Vaughann, then at Owen, then at Mike the lawyer.

  Isabel liked that.

  She also liked the fact that Grainger’s jacket had bobbles of pink wool down one arm, as if it had been pressed up against someone in a pink sweater just before she came out.

  She looked like someone who stood up to bullies, and who wouldn’t take a dime to do anything crooked. Ever. She probably annoyed the other officers in her precinct for that. The male ones that is.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go down to the station, get some privacy?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  Detective Grainger reached forward, took one of the small bottles of Aquafina from the middle of the table and handed it to her.

  ‘You want some water?’ she said.

  Isabel took one of the white paper cups beside the water bottles and poured herself a glass. She drank it quickly.

  Mr Vaughann glanced at his watch. It was a gold Rolex. Sean had told her how he’d been in a meeting once in the bank where everyone in the room had been wearing a Rolex, except himself. He’d refused to stop wearing the Hamilton his dad gave him.

  It was one of the reasons she loved him. He didn’t care about impressing people.

  She felt a longing to see him. It pulled at her like a tide.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mrs Ryan?’ said Detective Grainger.

  ‘I want to know why my husband is missing.’

  ‘I can assure you, whatever his reasons are, they won’t be anything to do with BXH,’ said Vaughann. His tone made it clear that any contrary notion was preposterous.

  ‘You weren’t listening,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens to Sean I put at your door, at this stupid casino’s door.’ She waved at the walls.

  She turned to the SEC guy. ‘Why don’t you just take over this bank, clean it all out? You could do that, couldn’t you?’

  ‘First of all, Mrs Ryan, that’s not our role. The FDIC do that kind of thing,’ said Dick Owen. ‘Second, do you know how many banks they’ve taken over this year already?’

  She shrugged. Whatever the number, what difference did it make?

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘We’re looking for alternatives, Mrs Ryan.’

  ‘You mean between now and when they file for Chapter 11, before midnight tonight?’ It all sounded very last minute.

  There was a pause. O
wen and Vaughann looked at each other.

  ‘What the hell are you doing down here talking to me?’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t you be upstairs saving BXH’s ass?’

  Detective Grainger smiled, just a little, before looking at the floor.

  ‘We thought you might know where your husband is,’ said Vaughann.

  Isabel felt a strange sensation. She’d realised something.

  ‘You’re not telling me everything. I can feel it.’

  Vaughann looked at Dick Owen. The look on his face confirmed it.

  She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, if someone had told her this was all going to happen a few days ago. She’d have said they were dreaming or mad.

  ‘Let’s establish a few facts,’ said Detective Grainger.

  Isabel wanted to get out of the room. This was all a distraction from her finding Sean. A distraction that seemed to be suiting Vaughann and Owen. Why would that be?

  ‘Did your husband visit strip clubs regularly?’

  Isabel’s cheeks flushed. It was bad enough he’d gone to one of those clubs. Now she was being asked about it as if it was somehow her fault, and in front of a room full of men.

  Her grip on the paper cup tightened. One side bent in. She stopped squeezing just in time before the water dripped over the edge.

  ‘He went a couple of times, a long time ago.’ That was what he’d told her. But was it the truth? She drank some water. A little spilled down her chin.

  ‘Why don’t you ask him what he was doing there?’ Isabel pointed at Vaughann.

  He put his hands up, as if she’d pointed a gun at him. ‘I can assure you it wasn’t my idea to visit that club. I didn’t even know what kind of place it was until I got inside. I exited the place immediately. As quickly as I could actually, under the circumstances. I already told the Detective all this.’

  She turned to Detective Grainger. ‘Are you looking for my husband?’ She dreaded the answer.

  ‘We have an APB out for him, Mrs Ryan. We’re watching the airports, the bus stations, the train stations. The usual stuff.’

  ‘Great.’ But it wasn’t. It was proof that her nightmare had just entered another level. They were hunting him down like they would a terrorist suspect.

  ‘Have you any idea,’ said Detective Grainger, leaning towards her, ‘why your husband would confess to something he didn’t do?’ She put her head to the side, as if she was sceptical about the confession too.

  ‘No. But I do know he’s not guilty.’ She pushed her chin forward. Someone had to stand up for him.

  Vaughann guffawed quietly.

  ‘You gotta think straight now, Mrs Ryan,’ said Grainger, softly.

  Isabel looked away. There had to be an explanation for all this. She rapped the table between her and Vaughann. ‘What about you? Were you with that poor dancer the other night?’

  Vaughann leaned back in his chair.

  ‘I told you. I went straight back to the bank soon after I got to that club,’ he said confidently. ‘My driver can testify to that. As can about twenty people who were in the bank working on the merger when I got there. And I stayed in the building all night.’

  She was clutching at wisps.

  She shuddered. Could the man she loved really have met with a prostitute and killed her? She thought about Alek. Thank God he didn’t have to see this. She got an urge to call him, to speak to him. It wouldn’t be long before it was Sunday morning in London. She closed her eyes. Thank God for one thing. At least Alek was safe.

  ‘Mrs Ryan, I know you’re under stress. It’s a terrible thing your husband has admitted to, and I understand it’s hard to believe,’ said Grainger.

  Isabel’s hand on the table was trembling. She put it in her lap, gripped it with her other hand and pressed them both into her stomach. She kept her eyes closed.

  ‘Have you been told that your husband bailed out of a moving vehicle?’ said Detective Grainger.

  She shook her head. A part of her didn’t want to hear any more bad news, didn’t want to see any more bad news.

  ‘Someone should have told you.’ She put a finger on Isabel’s knee and pressed it down hard, as if she was trying to get through to her.

  ‘You may need some protection.’

  Isabel’s eyes opened.

  ‘What happened?’ she said. She sat up straighter.

  ‘As your husband was being driven to the 17th precinct station house earlier this evening, Mrs Ryan, he jumped out of the car taking him there. He’d agreed to be driven there following that recording you saw.’

  ‘Why would Sean come to New York, if he was going to confess?’ she said, opening her eyes. ‘He could have done that in London.’

  Detective Grainger looked at Vaughann, then back at her.

  ‘You should tell her what’s happened, Mr Vaughann.’ Grainger had a stiff look on her face, as if she had plenty of thoughts about all this, but wasn’t going to reveal any of them.

  Vaughann coughed, then began talking. ‘I confronted your husband about all the speculation in the English media earlier. It was at that point Sean agreed to make the statement.’ He paused, as if he thought he had done something commendable.

  ‘This follows our protocols precisely.’ He looked like someone for whom that mattered a lot.

  ‘Serious incidents involving the bank’s reputation have to be reported to the authorities immediately.’ He shook his head, as if disappointed at the timing of all this.

  ‘You decided to terminate the Institute’s contract without hearing Sean’s side of the story?’ Isabel said.

  He stared at her. ‘We spoke to your husband, Mrs Ryan. You saw the interview.’ He sniffed.

  ‘I’d say he wanted your husband on tape in case he was arrested, isn’t that right, Mr Vaughann?’ said Detective Grainger. ‘You were covering your backsides.’

  ‘Detective, this is also about business. I made it clear at all times that the Institute’s contract had to be terminated if he admitted a criminal offence.’ He was staring at Grainger. ‘I did tell you this already.’ His tone was firm.

  ‘After he made his admission there was nothing else I could do, no matter what my personal feelings were.’

  ‘Yeah, you did the right thing,’ said Isabel. ‘You always do the right thing.’

  ‘Yes, we do. Your husband has been acting odd for a while,’ he went on. ‘But this is not about me or about BXH. I had no choice in this. Sean volunteered his replies. You’ll have to ask him why. We’ve exceeded our obligations. You wouldn’t even have seen his confession if we hadn’t done it this way.’ He sounded pleased with the way it had all worked out.

  ‘Your husband has no further contractual relationship with BXH. He assaulted one of my colleagues when they were stopped at a red light. Then he got out of the town car and ran up Lexington, against the traffic. It’s all verifiable. He was probably on two or three different security cameras when he ran for it. It was like something from a movie, so I’m told.’

  She took a huge breath. Air poured into her. None of this sounded like Sean. It felt as if they were talking about someone else, some stupid criminal. What the hell could have driven him to do all this?

  She looked up. Everyone in the room was staring at her. She saw pity and distaste in their eyes.

  65

  Henry Mowlam put the phone to his ear and listened. The office was quiet around him.

  ‘Henry, there’s been a development.’ Finch’s tone was at its most officious, which meant there were people around her.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘We’ve discovered your stupid symbol on the plan of the underground levels of the BXH building in New York. Apparently it’s on the original plans from 1923. They show the deepest level of the building with a vault marked with a square and arrow.’

  ‘That’s it?’ He tried not to sound too exasperated. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded. ‘No, Henry, that’s not it. Isabel Ryan is in imminent danger. I need you to make contact with her
and warn her about her husband. She knows you, so she’s more likely to believe you. Her husband has confessed to that dancer’s murder. The NYPD will treat him as armed and dangerous from this point on. It looks like you were right.’

  Henry put the phone down. He took no pleasure in being right. What he wanted to do now was make sure Isabel Ryan and Alek Ryan got out of this situation in one piece.

  He dialled Isabel Ryan’s mobile number.

  The call diverted to voicemail.

  66

  Isabel looked down at the table. She wasn’t going to give in. And there was the question of timing. Detective Grainger had said the vehicle Sean had been in had been on its way uptown. But if it had been, how had it gone through the Lincoln Tunnel only a few minutes later?

  She closed her eyes and imagined herself standing looking at the screen in Greg’s tiny apartment. What time had the screen said it had gone through the tunnel?

  Then she remembered Greg saying, ‘18:58,’ and pointing.

  ‘Mr Vaughann,’ she said.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘How come that town car Sean was in went through Lincoln Tunnel just minutes after I saw it outside the building here? If they were heading to a police station they wouldn’t have been able to get to the Lincoln Tunnel in a few minutes.’

  ‘I don’t have to explain anything,’ said Vaughann. He paused. ‘But I will. Your husband jumped from the car only three blocks from here. They had plenty of time to get to the Lincoln Tunnel.’ Three blocks? Had he seen her?

  ‘Why didn’t they go straight to the precinct, report what had happened?’

  ‘We got a call reporting what had occurred, Mrs Ryan. That’s good enough for us,’ said Grainger.

  Everyone was still looking at her. They were all totally convinced of Sean’s guilt. She was the last juror in the room holding out for an innocent verdict on some guilty bum, preventing him from being convicted.

  There was a knock at the door. A policewoman, in full uniform this time, poked her head inside the room.

  ‘Can I see you, Detective Grainger?’ she drawled.