No Time To Run (Legal Thriller Featuring Michael Collins, Book 1) (15 page)

“
Yeah,” Flo said, picking up another piece of paper to examine. “Didn’t come back.”

She sorted through more pieces of paper, and then finally pulled out a one-page memo.

“
Here it is.” Flo handed the paper to Michael. “Got all the addresses on there, home numbers, cell numbers, anything in case there was an emergency or you didn’t show up for a shift.”

“
Can I use this?” Michael pointed at the telephone on the table.

“
Doesn’t bother me none.”

Michael picked up the phone and dialed the first number for Daniel Beale. There was a pause, and then a choppy dial-tone followed by a recorded message. The number had been disconnected. Michael dialed the second number. Same thing. It wasn’t a surprise.

Andie had stated that she arrived at the First National Building a little after nine in the evening. The security guard told her that she was expected, had her sign in, gave her a visitors' tag, and then led her up to the nineteenth floor.

The security guard unlocked a door marked, “Green Earth Investment Capital, L.L.C.” The lights were on, and Andie was told that the person she was meeting with had just stepped outside for a quick, late dinner and would be back.

Andie sat down and waited for an hour, but the meeting never happened. Nobody ever came.

“
Anything else you remember about Beale?” Michael set the receiver down and pushed the phone away.

Flo shrugged.

“
Didn’t really know him,” she said. “I only work with Cecil, so we just run into the other guards when the shifts change over. And then it’s usually nothing, just small talk – mostly weather.”

“
Did he work with someone else, like you and Cecil?”

“
No,” Flo said. “Everybody used to work with a partner, but not anymore. Me and Cecil are the only ones who still do, ‘cause we been around so long.”

Michael looked at the computer.

“
Do you have a picture of him, like an ID badge or maybe video from the surveillance cameras?”

“
Video would be taped over. Taped over every night, unless somebody grabs it and puts in a new one. ID badge would have been made right here.” Flo pointed at a digital camera on a tripod that was shoved into the corner.

She turned on the computer and opened up Photoshop.

“
Should be on here somewhere.” Flo pressed a few keys, and a small hourglass appeared on the screen. “Thing is old, takes a minute.”

“
That’s fine.” Michael stood and walked across the room to where Flo was sitting. They waited until a series of thumbnail photographs started to dot the screen.

Flo clicked the mouse, and scrolled through them.

“
Man,” she said. “Lotta fallen soldiers in this bunch, here. I forget how many people come and go in this job. That’s why I don’t bother getting to know the others anymore.” She scrolled further down, eventually stopping.

“
Here we go.” Flo double-clicked, and then sent the digital photograph to the printer.

An inkjet cartridge buzzed and jerked to life. Then, it ran back and forth on a piece of glossy paper. Both Michael and Flo stood in silence as the paper worked its way through the printer.

A few minutes later, the printer spat out a photograph and Michael pulled it off the paper tray.

One look, and he didn’t need to ask Flo if she was sure that this was the man. Michael knew they had the right one.

“
Let me ask you another thing.” Michael folded the photo and put it in his pocket. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“
Sure thing.” Flo bent over and turned off the computer. “Provided it’s just one more thing. Otherwise, Cecil and me might need to recalibrate our equilibrium, if you know what I mean.”

“
This guy, do you remember if he liked to use big words?”

Flo’s eyes widened.

“
You know, that’s right.” A smile came across her face. “Few times I talked to him, he would just mammer-jammer on about this and that and whatever. Big Word Man, that’s him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

The Professor listed his home address as an apartment in New York’s Alphabet City neighborhood, so named because the street names were various letters of the alphabet. Michael thought of the long-running joke that Avenue A, stood for you're all right; Avenue B, stood for beware; Avenue C, stood for use caution; and Avenue D, stood for you're dead.

Michael figured that “Daniel Beale” wasn’t really the Professor’s name, but it was another loose end that needed to be researched by either Kermit or one of the firm’s investigators.

“
What’d you see on the nineteenth floor?” Michael asked as the cab driver turned right on Avenue B.

“
Nada.” Kermit briefly turned toward Michael, and then back toward the window. Kermit watched the brownstones tripping by. “Empty offices, abandoned.”

“
No signs, no couches, no desks?”

“
Nope,” Kermit said. “Cleared out. What about this security guard? Anything important?”

“
You might say we learned something important.” The cab turned left on East 3rd.

“
Like what?”

“
Like he’s a mob hit-man.”

Kermit stared out the window, and nodded his head as the information processed through his clouded mind.

“
Interesting development,
mi amigo
, very interesting.”

The cab stopped in front of a four-story red brick apartment building. A green awning jutted out over the front door. The building was nothing special, but appeared to be maintained. Sidewalks were cleared of snow and ice, and only a few icicles hung from the gutter. On one side there was a small parking lot, and on the other there was a vacant lot with a fledgling community garden buried in ice and brown leaves.

Michael paid the cab driver, and he and Kermit got out.

Kermit walked about half-way across the street when he stopped, thoughts coming together.

“
Mob hit-man, huh? Well, we’ll see what happens when Kung-Fu Kermit unleashes his fists of fury.” Kermit attempted a high kick, and nearly fell down. Shot both hands up to the sky, and then straight out.

“
I thought you turned into a pacifist during Vietnam.”

“
Generally.” Kermit started walking toward the apartment building, again. “But even Gandhi had to bust out the ninja moves every once in awhile. Seven deadly sins beware, man. Gandhi kicked ass.”

Michael stopped at the front door to the apartment building, and then tried to turn the knob. “What does Gandhi teach us about breaking and entering?”

“
Gandhi would say, ‘go round back.’”

Michael and Kermit walked around the side of the building, and then into a small parking lot and alley. They looked up and saw a wrought iron fire escape zig-zagging down the middle of the building, from the top story to just above the back doorway.

“
Get that trash can.” Michael pointed at one of a half-dozen trash cans lined against the fence. Kermit grabbed a can and dragged it underneath the fire escape.

“
You think you can reach it?”

“
Don’t know.” Michael stared at the space between the trash can and the fire escape above it. “Only one way to find out.” He walked over to where the trash can had been, and retrieved the metal lid that was lying on the ground.

Michael walked back and put the lid over the top of the can, smashing down the four bags of garbage that were inside.

“
Steady this for me, will you?” Michael climbed on top and tried to stand.

The metal can groaned under the pressure and rocked side to side as Michael reached. He was still a good foot away from the bottom rung of the fire escape.

“
You got it,” Kermit said, “Just jump. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“
Seriously?”

“
Do it,” Kermit said. “Do it, man. On the count of three.”

The numbers counted down, and Michael jumped as high as he could. Immediately the trash can fell out from beneath him, and then there was a loud crash as his fingertips touched the base of the fire escape.

He couldn’t grab on.

Michael swore when he missed it.

“
Catch me,” he said as he fell, but Kermit had already run away.

On the ground, Michael was sure that his hip was broken.

He opened his eyes, and Kermit looked down at him from above.

“
You really fell hard.” Kermit squinted. “Looked like it hurt.”

“
I thought you were going to catch me.”

“
I was.” Kermit’s head bobbled from side to side. “Loud noises give me the freaks. You know how easy the K-man gets freaked.”

“
I guess I forgot.”

“
That’s okay.” Kermit reached down and pulled Michael off the ground. “How about a Plan B?”

“
How about it?”

A young woman with purple hair and a piercing walked out the back door of the apartment building. Michael quickly moved toward the door before it could latch shut.

The woman turned and was about to say something when Michael shouted up the stairs. “Yeah, Johnny, when you want us to move your couch next time, how ‘bout not locking us out in the cold?” Michael turned back to the pierced woman, and shook his head.

“
With friends like these, right?” Then he and Kermit proceeded inside.

“
Nice Plan B.” Kermit closed the door behind him. “Now where’s this guy’s apartment?”

“
Third floor.” Michael bounded up the stairs.

“
Any idea about what to do when we get there?”

“
Knock,” Michael said as he reached the top.

The third floor hallway was lit by two bare bulbs on either end. Walls were paneled with dark pressed-wood, and the carpet was a brown and orange shag. It was unclear whether that was the carpet’s original color or if the unique patina had developed over time.

“
302.” Michael led Kermit down the hall to the Professor’s door. He paused in front of it, and then knocked. Kermit readied himself in his patented Gandhi kung-fu stance.

Michael looked at Kermit, and then Kermit looked at Michael while still maintaining the stance. Another knock, and … nothing.

Kermit straightened up. “Well, unless you can pick locks,
mi amigo
, I guess that’s that.”

“
That’s that.” Michael nodded as he took a step back, stopped, looked at the door, and then kicked it as hard he could.

A crack and a pop, and wood splintered onto the ground as the lock bent backwards and the door swung open.

“
We got two minutes.” Michael ran into the apartment and Kermit followed behind. “Let’s do it.”

“
Grab and dash.” Kermit laughed. “Grab and dash.”

“
You got the kitchen and living room.” Michael pointed. “I got bedroom and bathroom.”

The bedroom was along the back wall of the apartment. The bed was unmade, and a few T-shirts were on the floor, but the dresser was empty and there wasn’t anything left on the nightstand.

Michael moved into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Again, there was nothing.

“
What’d you find?”

“
Rotten milk and moldy cheese.” Kermit closed the refrigerator door. “Dude’s split.”

Michael walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

“
Anything in the garbage? Bills, credit card statements, anything?”

Kermit looked. “Nothing.”

“
Then let’s go,” Michael said. They left the apartment without saying a word; their pace increased to a run by the bottom of the stairs.

Out the back door, they kept running until they made it to Bleeker station. As the train started to pull away, Michael and Kermit sat down together in an empty seat in an empty compartment.

Kermit looked at Michael. His breathing was heavy, trying to catch itself. He turned toward Michael and flashed a broad smile.

Michael looked back at Kermit, returned the smile, and then they both started to laugh. It was the first time that Michael had really laughed since coming back.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

With the advent of the computer, everything was supposed to be electronic. One look at Michael’s desk, however, proved that a paperless society was far, far away. The stack of files and random pieces of paper had doubled while he was gone; a virus intent on consuming every bit of free space.