“Your partner.”
My lip curled in annoyance. “I work alone.”
“What if something goes wrong? What if you’re injured and need help?”
“That won’t happen.”
“Maybe not, but all the same, I’d like you to have someone watching your back.”
“You mean you want someone to spy on me.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes shifted. I followed his gaze to the metal door. As it opened, my muscles tightened.
“I know you two met before but let’s make it formal,” Chase said. “Cyclone Reed, meet your new partner. Beverly Ginger.”
Chapter 9
I barely controlled my anger as Beverly glided into the room. The last thing I needed was a partner, especially one who’d already Tasered me.
She sat down next to me. Crossing her legs, she stared directly at Chase. I glanced in her direction and felt my jaw unhinge.
Beverly wore a tight, white collared shirt, popped open at the top, highlighting her ample chest. Her black and white pencil skirt hugged her hips and tapered to her knees, accentuating her legs. A perfect French manicure peeked out of her open-toed high heels, one of which she swung back and forth, over and over, like a hypnotist’s swing watch.
First, she’d portrayed a victimized archaeologist. Now, she wore the attire and hungry look of a corporate executive. She was like some kind of sex-charged chameleon, changing her outfit and personality to match her needs.
And to seduce her prey.
I turned toward Chase. “You must be out of your mind.”
“I know there are some trust issues here but —”
“She lied to my face. She risked my life.” I raised my voice. “Then to top it off, she kidnapped me. Trust issues are the least of our worries.”
“I understand your feelings. But this is non-negotiable. You need a partner.”
I jerked my thumb at her. “And you think she’s the best choice? Does she have any experience conducting a manhunt? Does she know anything about the tunnel system?”
Beverly smiled. “Maybe not. Then again, I’m not an archaeologist either, but I still managed to fool a so-called expert.”
My blood boiled as I looked at her. “This isn’t some kind of game. I’m going to venture miles into a hostile, closed environment. There are no food sources and few places to access potable water. I can’t afford to expend time and energy babysitting you.”
“I’ve experienced every type of weather and terrain known to man. I think I can handle a couple of city tunnels.”
“In case it’s escaped your attention, the two subjects vanished for a reason,” I retorted. “Maybe a little-used tunnel collapsed on them. Maybe it was foul play. Regardless, if something goes wrong, there’s nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. I’m dead and so is anyone unfortunate enough to be with me.”
I looked at Chase. “You already tried a manhunt. You already tried the police. You said it yourself back in Colombia…a solo operation might be the last chance you have to find Kolen and Adcock.”
Chase smiled.
The bastard. He’s actually enjoying this.
“So I did,” he replied. “However, Beverly’s still travelling with you. But you have my word that she won’t get in your way. Her responsibilities are strictly limited to observing your progress and reporting back to me.”
His tone indicated that the discussion was over. I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms.
“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s get down to business. You mentioned you’d prepared a strategy?”
“According to the briefing I read aboard the plane, after attempting to pawn the gold bar, Fred Jenson disappeared into a subway station near Union Square. An initial investigation revealed that he maintained a permanent residence somewhere in New York’s tunnels. Subsequently, you hired several teams to canvas the area.”
I leaned forward. “One of those teams consisted of Javier Kolen and Dan Adcock. They entered the subway system shortly after midnight on August 21. They were tasked with searching several miles of tunnels, beginning with the Lexington Avenue Line. Javier reported his position at the start of the search but failed to check in at Union Square. Thanks to an eyewitness…”
“A severely intoxicated eyewitness,” Beverly added.
“…we have reason to believe that they successfully passed through the Grand Central Terminal station. Thus, I’ll begin my search at that point and trek south to Union Square.”
Chase frowned. “I hoped for something more creative. The manhunt and police search exhaustively searched that entire length of tunnel.”
“Those efforts were heavily flawed. They were conducted far too quickly and with a greater emphasis on locating people rather than clues. My search will be far more detailed and wider in scope.”
Chase looked at me thoughtfully. “What sort of supplies will you need?”
“Access keys. And maps. I need maps of every known underground installation in Manhattan. Subway tunnels, access corridors, sewers, everything.”
“Beverly can handle that. She’ll load them onto her laptop.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to have to worry about recharging a computer. I want hard copies.”
“Her laptop is state-of-the-art and can go many hours without a recharge. If you like, I can arrange one for you as well.”
“No thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I just want maps I can hold.”
“Will do. As for accommodation, I think you’ll be pleased to know that we’ve booked a suite for you at the Ritz-Carlton.”
“I’m not sleeping in a hotel. Neither is Beverly.”
She shot me a glance. “Is that right?”
“Conventional search tactics have failed. As Jack already mentioned, creativity is important at this stage of the game. Therefore, I want to immerse myself completely into the environment.”
Chase gave me a strange look. “What are you saying?”
“Just this…once I enter the subway system, I’m not turning back. I’m going to eat, drink, and sleep in those tunnels. I’m not resurfacing until I have answers. Or until I’m in a body bag.”
Chapter 10
Someone was following me.
I’d sensed the presence five minutes earlier while crossing 71st Street. At first, I paid it no heed. But by the time I reached 78th Street, an alarm bell rang inside my head.
As I turned the corner at 2nd Avenue, I glanced at the sky. I couldn’t see the moon or stars. I couldn’t see anything but the boatloads of rain that poured down on me.
Taking cover behind a brick wall, I peered back. Thanks to the late hour, the street was nearly empty.
My eyes swept across the rain-soaked sidewalk, the mist-covered parked cars, the dark storefronts, and the overflowing trashcans.
Nothing moved.
I pressed my head against the cold, wet bricks.
You’re hearing things.
I started to pull my body away from the wet wall. Then I halted and stood still for a minute.
Something about the block seemed different.
It wasn’t a recent change but rather, a change that had taken place sometime over the last three years. I spun in a circle, examining the block. Was it the landscape? The storefronts? The flowerboxes hanging high above me?
Suddenly, it came rushing back to me.
The odor.
I twisted around to face the intersection. A barbecue restaurant once sat on the opposite corner. In my former life, I’d walk by it and smell the intoxicating aromas of pit smoked barbecue pork ribs, beans, and salt potatoes. I never ate there. I didn’t know why. But damn, I loved its smell.