Prey (25 page)

The Hyperion was a six-storey building with dirty stonework and a sense that its glory days were long gone. The owners no doubt wanted their customers to believe it was on the Upper East Side, but that was stretching things. Winter reckoned it was closer to East Harlem. Parking was a nightmare and they’d ended up abandoning the BMW four blocks away and walking. They still had a couple of blocks to go when his cell phone started ringing. He looked at the number flashing up on the screen, but didn’t answer. It was a number he was unfamiliar with.

‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Mendoza asked.

Winter ignored the question. ‘Whatever happens over the next couple of minutes, I want you to look straight ahead and keep walking. Nod if you understand.’

Mendoza’s eyes narrowed, but she did what he asked and carried on walking. ‘I want to know what’s going on, Winter?’

‘And I’ll tell you. Just not now, okay?’

For a second it looked as though she was going to argue. Instead, she nodded once and kept on walking. Winter was charting a route that took them right down the middle of the sidewalk. Anyone dumb enough to play chicken got bumped out the way. He barely noticed the collisions, or the abuse. He was concentrating on the cell phone, counting the rings. His cell died halfway through the fourteenth ring. Three seconds, four seconds, five. The phone started ringing again and he smiled to himself.

‘What’s going on?’ Mendoza asked again.

Winter ignored her and kept walking. The phone was still ringing in his hand, insistent and annoying. Nine rings, ten rings. They were a block and a half away from the Hyperion. Directly opposite was another hotel. Architecturally, it looked different, but in every way that mattered it was identical. Same location, same clientele, same three-star rating. Twelve rings, thirteen. The cell cut off halfway through the fifteenth ring. Winter held the phone up. ‘It’s Amelia.’

Mendoza stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. ‘Why the hell didn’t you answer it?’

‘Keep moving,’ he replied without breaking stride.

She took a large step and came back in line with him. ‘I need to know what the hell’s going on, and I need to know now. If I’m going to be any help here, you need to let me in.’

‘We’re taking control of the board. Amelia is in the hotel opposite the Hyperion. She has to be. My cell started ringing the second we came into view. It’s the obvious place to watch from.’

Before he could finish, Mendoza was already sprinting along the sidewalk, arms and legs pumping. Winter’s cell phone rang again. He counted the rings off, waiting for the thirteenth, then stopped walking and connected the call.

‘Hi Amelia. How’s it going?’

There was a slight pause. ‘Hello, Jefferson. How did you know it was me?’

He’d hoped that ignoring her calls would wind her up, but she sounded as calm as ever. He glanced across the road, eyes searching the hotel’s windows, wondering which one she was behind.

‘I didn’t recognise the number so I assumed it was a junk call. A telemarketer might have phoned back a second time in quick succession but not a third. So I asked myself two questions. Who might want to speak to me so urgently, and whose number didn’t I have? Yours was the name I was left with.’

‘How clever of you.’

‘Not really. This isn’t exactly rocket science.’

‘Modesty doesn’t suit you.’

‘Clever is developing a cure for cancer, or picking up the ball from Einstein and finally coming up with a Unified Theory of Everything. Using deductive reasoning to work out who might be calling your cell phone is not clever. That’s just a parlour trick. So what do you want Amelia? Or should that be Maddie?’

‘You’ve been to see Ryan, then? How is he?’

Her voice had changed. It sounded as though she was talking while she was walking, the rhythm of her feet dictating the beat of her words. Winter listened harder, trying to hear her footsteps. Nothing. Perhaps they’d been muffled by carpet. In which case she was still inside the hotel. A door opened and the rhythm changed again. It sounded like she was descending a flight of stairs. Mendoza needed to hurry or Amelia was going to get away.

‘I think he’s probably been better. Prison life isn’t agreeing with him. You really enjoy pulling those strings and making people dance, don’t you?’

‘You have no idea.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘I’d love to, but it would take too long. I want to meet up, Jefferson.’

‘Why?’

‘Since when does there have to be a reason?’

‘Of course there has to be a reason. It isn’t like we’re friends getting together for lunch and a chat. You’re a killer and my job is to catch you.’

‘I’m sensing that you’re still upset about the cook’s death. What was his name again? Oscar?’

‘Omar. His name was Omar.’

‘Poor Omar. But then, if I hadn’t killed him, we wouldn’t be here now. So you see, his death was necessary.’

‘Why do you want to meet, Amelia?’

‘That would be telling.’

Before Winter could say anything else, the high-pitched sound of a fire alarm ripped through the earpiece. He jerked the cell phone away from his ear. An old trick, but a good one. He put the phone back to his ear. The ambient noise had changed. Clanging metal and bright echoes. A kitchen. Not good. While Mendoza was working her way towards Amelia’s room, Amelia was down on the first floor, escaping out the back way.

He looked along the sidewalk towards the hotel entrance. Nobody had come out yet, but it wouldn’t be long. And while everything was in chaos she’d just slip away. Judging by the sounds coming through the earpiece she was still in the kitchen. But she wouldn’t be there much longer.

‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ she said. ‘I can almost hear those cogs turning inside your head.’

‘You want to meet? Fine let’s meet.’

‘I want you to come alone.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘I’m serious. This one’s a deal-breaker. If I get even a hint that you’re not alone then I disappear.’

‘You’re going to have to give me some time. A couple of hours at least. I need to give Mendoza the slip.’

‘No you don’t. You could give her the slip right now. Just walk away while everything’s going crazy, and don’t look back. New York’s a great place to lose yourself in.’

‘You know I can’t do that, Amelia. As long as you’re in that hotel I’ve got to come after you.’

‘But what’s the point? I’ll be gone long before you get here. I know that, you know that, so why bother?’

‘I’ve still got to try.’

Amelia let out a world-weary sigh. Winter could almost see her shaking her head on the other end of the line. ‘What is it with you men? You’re all so stupid.’

‘Two hours,’ he said.

‘I’ll give you half an hour.’

Winter noticed a new change in the background noise. She was outside. Which meant they’d lost her. ‘I’ll be there in an hour.’

‘Be where?’

‘If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll work it out.’

He killed the call and broke into a run, his thumbs working his cell phone. He found Mendoza’s number, typed
shes gon out thru kichn
,
then hit send.

Winter scanned the abandoned kitchen, taking everything in. The discarded pots and pans, the pile of half chopped vegetables, the open back door. He crouched down and picked up a large knife that had fallen on the floor. The blade was shiny and sharp. He laid the knife on one of the work surfaces. A door banged open behind him and Mendoza came rushing in.

‘Shit, Winter! We lost her.’

‘It’s not all bad news.’

‘She’s still out there. That doesn’t sound like good news to me.’

‘She’s taking more risks than ever, which means there’s more chance of her making a mistake. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.’

Winter went over to the back door. It was wider than an average door to make it easier for deliveries. You opened it by pushing the bar across the middle. Beyond the doorway was a narrow alley. The tall buildings on either side kept everything in shadow, and the dumpsters stunk of garbage. Once Amelia had reached this point she was home and dry. A quick jog along this alley and in no time she would have been swallowed up by the city.

‘How did you find out which room she was in?’ he asked.

‘She used the Wren J Firestone alias again. Her room was up on the fifth floor.’

Without another word, Winter ran out of the kitchen and retraced his way back through to reception. There was a queue for the elevators so he headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time he reached the fourth floor he was out of breath. He stood there for a second, his hand on the rail, breathing hard, then got going again. Mendoza had caught up with him by the third floor and sailed passed him without breaking stride. Her face was a little flushed but she looked as though she could easily manage another four flights.

‘You really should think about quitting the cigarettes,’ she told him.

‘Really not the time for a lecture. So which way to Amelia’s room?’

‘This way.’

Mendoza banged through the heavy door that led to the corridors. Winter took one more deep breath then followed. It occurred to him that their journey from the kitchen to the fifth floor was the exact same journey he’d heard Amelia taking, but in reverse. Mendoza turned left and walked quickly along the narrow corridor, glancing at the room numbers. Room 516 was two-thirds of the way along the corridor. The door was ajar, wedged open with a bath towel. Winter looked at the towel, looked at Mendoza.

‘I figured we might want to take a look at the room,’ she said. ‘This way saves all the hassle of finding someone to unlock the door.’

The room was decorated for a business traveller from the lower rungs of the ladder, or a tourist on a budget. It was comfortable and functional with a funky modern vibe. Lots of white interspersed with bright splashes of colour. The throw on the bed was bright purple and the surrealist prints on the wall veered heavily towards primary colours. There was a suitcase on the stand in the corner. It had a hard shell and was small enough to be taken on to a flight as carry-on luggage. Mendoza walked over and popped the catches.

‘I wouldn’t bother. It’s empty.’

She ignored him and lifted the lid, peered inside. She checked the pockets, ran her hands over the lining. ‘You’re right. It’s empty.’

‘It’s probably the same suitcase she used back at Myrtle House.’

‘And I’m thinking she brought it here for the same reason. Someone checking into a hotel without luggage is going to stand out, right? And it’s empty because she knew that there was a good chance she might have to clear out in a hurry. Carrying this with her would have slowed her down.’

A chair was positioned in front of the window, just like there had been back at the guesthouse. The biggest difference was that this chair was pushed up close to the window. Clearly Amelia wasn’t as worried about being seen here. New York was much busier than Hartwood so it was easier to blend into the background, and being on the fifth floor made it difficult for anyone looking up from the street to see into the room.

It was a different story for the person sitting in this chair, though. They’d have a great view. Winter sat down and peered through the gap in the drapes. The window was open and a fresh breeze was blowing in, cold against his skin. The rowdy noise of the street rose up from below, fragmented jigsaw-puzzle pieces of sound. Car engines and horns and a stereo playing too loud. Laughter and shouting.

Straight ahead on the other side of the street was the Hyperion. Five stories up and twenty yards away it looked just as shabby as it had done from street level. Shabbier, perhaps, since there weren’t so many distractions up here. Winter leant on the window sill and peered left, peered right. The view on the near side of the street was restricted to a block in either direction. He could see way into the distance on the other side of the street.

Mendoza pulled one of the drapes aside. ‘She would have seen us coming from a mile away.’

‘Yes she would. Any idea what disguise she was using?’

‘The guy at the desk said she was dressed like a business woman. Dark hair, brown eyes, somewhere around five-eight or five-nine, and that was about as much as he could tell me. It didn’t help matters that it was a very quick conversation. After all, I was in a hurry to find her.’ She paused, frowned. ‘Chances are she changed her disguise as soon as she got outside. She probably hit the streets as a blue-eyed blonde.’

‘Probably. Not that it really matters what disguise she’s using.’

‘Of course it matters. What are you talking about?’

Winter grinned. ‘I’ve arranged to meet her.’

Mendoza stared at him. ‘And you’ve only just thought to mention this. Is there anything else you’re not telling me?’

Winter was staring out of the window again. He could picture Amelia in his mind’s eye. She didn’t look anything like a businesswoman, though. The version his imagination conjured up had platinum-blonde hair, bright green eyes and a baggy leather jacket. He saw her walking out of the hotel kitchen, saw her reach the end of the alley. She glanced over her shoulder like she had done two nights ago back at the diner in New York, and then she was gone. He turned around and looked at Mendoza.

‘Yeah, there is one thing. I think I know how to catch her.’

Winter sat down on the edge of the bed and spent the next couple of minutes outlining his idea. The whole time Mendoza just stood silently in front of him, the frown on her face slowly morphing into a scowl.

‘No way, Winter,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘It’s too risky.’

‘Okay, if you’ve got a better plan, let’s hear it.’

‘You’re not doing this without backup. It’s crazy.’

‘Still waiting to hear your plan.’

‘Winter, Amelia is a psychopath.’

‘No argument there. She probably scores higher than me on the Hare psychopathy checklist and that’s saying something.’

‘This isn’t funny. She stabbed that cook with a cutlery knife.’

‘I know. I was there.’

Mendoza closed her eyes. She had her fingers pressed against her forehead like she had a migraine coming on. She opened her eyes, lowered her hands, then took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know who’s crazier, you or her.’

‘I’m going to be fine, Mendoza. She’s not going to lay a finger on me.’

‘And you’re sure about that?’

‘I am. If she wanted to hurt me she would have done so already.’

‘She cuffed you to a bed.’

‘But she didn’t hurt me.’

‘But she could have.’

Winter jumped up from the bed and Mendoza took a step back in surprise.

‘Look, Amelia isn’t going to hurt me, and the reason I know that is because she craves an audience, and right now I’m that audience. Her brother, her father, Ryan McCarthy. She wasn’t just toying with them, she needed them to validate herself.’

‘And as a result of getting mixed up with her, two of them are dead and one is looking at spending the rest of his life in prison.’

‘I’m going to be fine,’ he said again.

‘I don’t like this, Winter.’

‘You don’t have to like it, you’ve just got to help me out here.’

Mendoza’s head started moving slowly from side to side. He doubted she was aware of what she was doing.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’

A sigh. ‘Yeah, I’ll help you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I wouldn’t go thanking me just yet. Let’s see how this plays out first.’

‘It’s going to be fine.
I’m
going to be fine.’

Mendoza smiled at him. ‘To be honest, I’m more concerned that you catch her.’