The Manhattan Puzzle (33 page)

No. That couldn’t be right. She bit the edge of her fist. Her hand was trembling. This guy, Adar, was the murderer. And Mrs Vaughann was involved!

Which meant that he was going to kill her if she didn’t get away.

Then, strangely, her hand stopped trembling. It was as if the part of her that couldn’t believe any of this, that had almost given up on Sean, had found a new way of looking at things. A way that set things right.

Her breathing calmed. Her heart too. She couldn’t hear any noises on the other side of the door any more.

She turned. She was in an arched brick tunnel. It looked like a place out of New York in the nineteenth century. It was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass, and the brick roof was only two inches from the top of her head. The only light was from the far end, fifty feet away.

The air was dead down here. All around there were shadows. They made the bricks in the wall blend into each other. She could feel cobblestones under her shoes. They were curved, as if they’d been laid directly on the backbone of Manhattan Island.

Suddenly a squeal echoed around her.

The noise was rushing towards her, like some enormous machine filling the tunnel. She leaned towards the wall and saw a flash of lights flicker past the end of the tunnel.

It was a train. The brick passage she was in led into one of the tunnels serving Grand Central.

She looked at her watch. She could barely read it. It was 12:25 a.m. That had to be one of the last trains out of the station. She walked fast towards the light.

A musty smell hit her nostrils. There were cobwebs all around. She could feel them touching her hair.

Then an air-vibrating bang rang out behind her. She turned. Another bang came. They were trying to break through the door.

She stumbled. Her legs felt heavy as if they didn’t want to move. Two sets of shiny train tracks stood between her and the far wall. It looked as if it had been painted red a long time ago. Far off to her left there was a low-ceilinged platform with a strip of white light above it. She didn’t think. She ran, heading to her left. Her feet were inches from the tracks.

Any second now she could be dead. She heard so many scuttling noises she imagined an army of rats moving out of her path, but she didn’t care. Her legs moved. Brick flashed past.

The yellow light on the siding came closer. The dry air was burning her lungs. She could taste a sooty cinnamon grit in her mouth. It was itching her eyes too.

But she wasn’t going to stop.

Her gaze was locked on the yellow light. There had to be a way out there. That was why there was a light. Keep going.

Faster.

Each step was like running on chunks of broken glass. The stones underfoot were sharp, almost cutting through the soles of her shoes.

Snake-like cables lined the walls.

She was at the siding. As she turned into it, a shout split the air.

‘Stop, Isabel!’ It was Mrs Vaughann. They had broken through the door.

A surge of energy poured through her. She ran faster as she entered the siding.

Ahead there was a wide platform, scaffolding reaching to a low roof with round fifties-style light fittings that gave off a dismal glow.

Where was the way out?

There. About halfway along there was a door and, further along, elevator doors.

Thank God!

She pulled herself up onto the platform and raced for the doors. Above her there were modern security cameras.

She reached the door, her heart beating fast. The door was a faded green. She gripped the handle, as her breath came in ragged gasps. She would run up to the street, be gone in a minute. Please open.

The door was locked.

She glanced back along the platform. Adar was at the entrance to the siding. He was walking towards her.

She ran for the elevator, praying it would open. Dread was taking over, filling her mind. Her nostrils were flaring. Her throat felt as if there was a rag in it. Instead of a button the elevator had a small silver keyhole. She wasn’t going to be able to call it. In a last despairing act she tried to push the doors of the elevator apart.

‘This time you don’t get away.’

She turned.

Standing on the track below her was Adar. In his hand he now held a chunky black pistol. He was pointing it at her chest.

‘You shouldn’t run from me,’ he said. He was panting a little. Mrs Vaughann was sauntering towards them, stones crunching under her feet. Isabel could see triumph in her smile.

‘Don’t upset yourself, Isabel,’ she said. ‘I told you there was no way out.’

‘What the hell’s going on?’ she said, as defiantly as she could.

‘You’re trespassing. That’s what’s going on.’

‘I’m looking for my husband.’

‘So you say, Isabel.’ Mrs Vaughann was being lifted onto the platform by Adar. Then she heard a distant grinding behind her. She knew at once what it meant. The elevator was coming.

A guard, maybe a member of the NYPD with his gun drawn.

Please have your gun drawn. The elevator door pinged.

Isabel, her voice shaking, shouted, ‘He’s got a gun,’ as it opened.

And then she saw who was in the elevator and her mouth opened.

Mr Li looked at the expanse of white tablecloth in front of him. He hated being disturbed while he was eating. And he hadn’t even been served any food yet. He looked up at his driver. The boy was holding a phone out in front of him. He had an apologetic look on his face. Li reached out and took the phone.

The owner of the Red Dragon restaurant was standing near the door out to 54th Street. He was half bowing in the direction of Li. In the kitchens, the restaurant’s two chefs were vying to produce the dishes Li had ordered.

Li listened, then asked a question. ‘The woman is there, yes?’

‘Yes,’ said the voice in his ear.

‘She found the passage?’

‘Yes.’

Li handed the phone back to the driver. ‘We are going,’ he said. His tone betrayed nothing, even though he had been looking forward to eating.

His plans would have to change now. He didn’t like that. But maybe it would be worth it. He could tie up all the loose strings in one go. There could be no mistakes. Too much was at stake.

The owner of the Red Dragon bowed as Li passed him. The tiny smile on the owner’s face could not be seen. Mr Li leaving was good news. His chefs could relax. He could relax. They weren’t going to be subjected to one of Li’s outbursts. He exhaled deeply.

‘Sean!’ She staggered back. ‘Sean.’ The second time she said it, it came out quiet.

Behind him was a young Chinese man in a black suit. Sean looked haggard. His face was pale. His eyes sunken. He looked so very different from the Sean who’d left their house a few days before.

A wave of anger, mixed with shock, sent blood rushing to her face. Her mouth opened, but nothing more came out. He came towards her.

She blinked. Her vision blurred. Had she conjured him up?

She wanted to be pleased to see him, but her anger grew as her shock subsided.

He spoke. ‘What in God’s name are you doing here?’ He was angry too.

She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

‘This pair are about to kill me!’ Her words came out in a breathless gasp. She didn’t look around. He reached towards her.

‘No, they won’t,’ he said.

What did he mean?

He was inches away from her. She could smell a familiar warmth.

‘That bastard behind me probably killed a detective.’

‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’ His voice was soft, soothing.

He held her. And in one world-obliterating second she got it.

She was wrong.

This wasn’t the Sean she knew. He was with them.

‘You don’t have to worry. I have her,’ he said, loudly, matter-of-factly.

She turned.

‘Don’t touch her,’ he said. ‘You’ll get what you want.’ He released his grip on her. She stumbled back.

‘Well done,’ said Adar.

The trap had closed.

She stared at Sean, her breathing coming fast, trying to take everything in, work out what to do.

‘You should have stayed at home,’ he said.

She kicked at his ankle. ‘I came to find you.’

He shook his head. ‘Everything gets difficult, now you’re involved.’ He reached his hand for her.

‘They have Alek. And Rose. They’ll kill them both if we don’t cooperate. We have to be careful, Isabel.’

‘What do you mean they’ll kill them, why?’ Her brain had heard Sean’s words, but she couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Someone was going to kill Alek?

Sean’s shoulders stiffened. He looked away. He seemed resigned. ‘They want something from me. I was trying to find a way through this. I was trying to protect you both.’

All she could see was his face, and in it an echo of Alek’s. Anxiety was blooming inside her. She shook her head. She wanted it to be a lie.

‘Why don’t you show Isabel some photos, Adar?’ said Mrs Vaughann.

Adar put a hand in his pocket, took out a phone, pressed at the screen and turned it to face her. She wanted to scream. Everything she held dear was being threatened.

Someone had taken a picture in their home. She’d have recognised the yellow wallpaper in Alek’s room anywhere.

The picture was of her son, sleeping with his duvet tucked up to his chin. The truly disturbing thing was the shaft of a short-bladed knife that whoever was working the camera was holding within an inch of Alek’s right eye.

It was a similar knife to the one she’d seen in Adar’s hand.

One good push and Alek would die in the most horrific manner. That was the message from the picture. But there was another message too.

She swallowed as it sank in.

Sean had every reason to do what he’d done. She glanced at Sean. Their eyes met for a moment. Again her world had turned. But what did this mean for Alek and Rose? For them all?

‘Do show her the other ones,’ said Mrs Vaughann.

Adar dabbed at the screen and turned it to face her again.

The pictures, which scrolled by, sent more tremors through her. A prickling at her eyes and in her cheeks sent messages to her hands to form fists, as if her body had taken over and a defensive mechanism had started up.

The first picture one was of her, sleeping in their bed, alone at home. Her arm was bare. It could have been taken any night Sean wasn’t there.

But she knew what night it had been taken with a terrible certainty. Last Thursday night, when she’d had that awful dream, when Sean hadn’t come home. When she’d smelled that lemony odour.

If she’d woken right then, would he have killed her? Was that what they planned to do now? Her mouth was dry. But her mind was clearing.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sean. He stepped back.

‘I had to do what they wanted. No matter what it meant for me, or for us. I didn’t tell you anything, because I didn’t want you to come after me.’ He was angry again.

She looked at Mrs Vaughann.

‘Why are you doing all this?’

Mrs Vaughann laughed, as if Isabel had just told a spectacularly funny joke. Her head went back. Then she smiled warmly, as if it was all nothing to her.

‘They want something,’ said Sean.

He took a step forward. ‘Let her go, for God’s sake,’ he said. There was desperation in his voice. ‘She can’t prove anything. It’ll be her word against yours. She’ll be the wronged wife of a murderer.’

‘It’s too late for that,’ said Mrs Vaughann.

Sean’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t harm her. You still need me.’

Mrs Vaughann showed them her smile again. ‘Maybe, let’s find out. Get back in the elevator, Sean. Let’s visit our friends.’

It was a tight squeeze. Isabel was beside Sean at the back. He smiled at her, but it was a broken smile. Adar, Mrs Vaughann and the Chinese guy were all staring at them.

Sean gripped her hand. She gripped back. It was good to hold him. His warmth ran up her arm.

The elevator kept going up for a long time. When it opened they were looking into a spectacular glass-walled reception area. It was poorly lit, only a few recessed lights in the ceiling were on. A grey square symbol was etched into the glass wall separating the elevators from the reception.

‘Go inside,’ said Adar. He put a card against a screen attached to the wall. It lit up briefly in blue, then a click sounded and a glass door slid open to the right.

‘Sure,’ said Sean. He sounded confident again. She wanted to scream at them all, demand that they let her son and friend go, but a voice inside kept telling her to wait for the right moment.

A minute later they were in a modern meeting room with silver chairs strewn around as if a meeting had broken up in disarray. There was a podium with a blue microphone at the far end. Behind the podium was a big LCD screen.

One wall of the conference room was all windows. Isabel had no idea what was beyond them, because the grey vertical blinds in front of each window were pulled closed. The light in the room was painfully bright.

She hugged Sean as if that might stop him leaving her ever again. Then she pushed him away.

Adar was standing by the door like some military policeman guarding them. Mrs Vaughann and her Chinese friend had disappeared.

‘What’s the plan?’ said Isabel, in a low voice as they walked down the room towards the podium.

He gripped her arm. ‘They think they need me,’ he said. ‘I know this seems crazy, but the whole takeover thing is a cover for something else. They won’t harm any of us. I won’t cooperate if they touch one hair on your body.’ He was trying to reassure her. It wasn’t working.

Surely, when he’d done what they wanted him to do they would dispose of them both. Of them all.

‘What do they want from you?’

Before he had a chance to answer, the door of the room opened and in came an older Chinese man with Mrs Vaughann.

The Chinese man took a seat and rested his hands on his knees. He looked like someone’s grandfather, though his hair was still black. His skin was hanging on his face as if he’d recovered from an illness.

‘Are you going to introduce us?’ she said.

The Chinese man’s eyebrows went up. It was clear from Mrs Vaughann’s expression that he was the guy in charge.