Chase looked uncomfortable. “We already tried that. Unfortunately, there was, well, an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“Two of the people we hired vanished into thin air. At last contact, they were venturing toward Grand Central Terminal on the Lexington Avenue Line. They never reached the rendezvous point and a subsequent search failed to locate them.”
“Did you call the police?”
“They filed a report and conducted a routine examination of the area. But they found nothing.”
He folded his hands and placed them on the desk. “We tried an internal manhunt. We tried the police. The only option left remaining to us is to bring in an outsider. Someone who holds a deep knowledge of New York’s underworld. Someone like you.”
I rose to my feet. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested. Now, how the hell do I get out of here?”
“You’re free to leave of course.” He thrust one more picture into my hands. “But before you do, please take a look at this.”
Annoyed, I quickly examined the photograph. Then, my fingers flexed, crumpling the sharp edges of the picture. “That’s…”
“Yes,” he said sadly. “Javier Kolen is one of the two men who disappeared.”
The realization bathed me in its chilling waters. Kolen had worked with me on my final excavation. I didn’t know him well, but I’d always considered him a rock-solid friend.
Something changed inside me. For three years, I’d buried my past. Three long, miserable years. Confronting it wouldn’t be easy. But I couldn’t just turn my back on Kolen. I needed to help him. Even if it meant a return to the one place on earth that I truly feared.
I cleared my throat. “How soon can you get me to Manhattan?”
Chapter 5
Everywhere I looked, I saw historical genocide. The quaint, elegant buildings from my previous life were long gone, replaced by skyscrapers and fancy new high-rises. Stores that I once frequented had shut their doors, making way for new retailers who would soon be replaced as well. The never-ending, so-called progress grated my nerves. In New York City, no one gave a damn about preservation.
“Are you okay, Mr. Reed?” the driver said over his shoulder. “Do you need anything? There should be a bottle of water at your side if you want it.”
I looked into the rear view mirror of the Lincoln Town Car. Chase’s personal driver, a skinny kid named Jim Walker, stared back at me. His face looked pale and his eyes seemed glassy. He looked like he might pass out at any second.
“I’m fine,” I replied for the thousandth time. “Don’t worry about me.”
Walker nodded. As he turned to face the road, I allowed my mind to drift for a few moments. Many hours had passed since my encounter with Ryan Standish. Since my meeting with Beverly Ginger. Since my agreement with Jack Chase.
Many long hours.
I still felt in the dark. Chase flew me to Manhattan on his corporate jet. However, he spent the entire flight making business calls, shut away in a private compartment. After we landed, I tried to get a few minutes alone with him, to ask him some questions. But he sent me with Walker instead, claiming we’d meet later in the day.
His caginess made me leery. But my apprehension melted away the moment I climbed into the back of the Town Car. First, a ride in a private jet. Now, a ride in a private car, complete with personal driver. I never really yearned for wealth or power, but I found myself enjoying it, much to my dismay.
Something buzzed. Walker reached to his ear and began speaking in a muted tone.
A surge of nervous energy flowed through me. Three years ago, I abandoned my old life. I put it, along with New York City, behind me.
Forever.
But of course, I’d never forgotten it. And as I entered the city limits, I found myself growing increasingly restless.
My eyes drifted to the seat next to me, landing squarely on my beat-up canvas satchel. All my worldly possessions, a few changes of clothes, my holster and gun, my sheathed machete, and some odds and ends, were contained within it. It was remarkably old-fashioned, kind of like me.
I didn’t have a laptop. I didn’t possess a cell phone. In fact, I didn’t own a single piece of electronic equipment. Walker, on the other hand, was more machine than man. He kept a cell phone in his hand, a headset in one ear, an iPod bud in the other, an iPad on his lap, and a GPS device in front of him. As I watched him juggle the devices with ease, I couldn’t help but feel a little outdated.
I was an anachronism.
A man out of place.
A man out of time.
Walker coughed. “Sorry about this, Mr. Reed.”
I shook my head, freeing myself from my thoughts. “What’s that?”
“I was just apologizing for the wait. This traffic’s a nightmare.”
Leaning to the side, I glanced out the front window. Just ahead of us, cars lined up for blocks on end, noisy yet unmoving. It was the worst traffic jam I’d ever seen. “What’s going on?”
“The MTA declared a lockout. Until further notice, all forms of public transportation are closed.”
It had to be a coincidence. Chase wouldn’t shut down New York’s subway system just to conduct a clandestine treasure hunt. Such a blatant misuse of power was unthinkable.
I tried to drum up another explanation. But the truth blazed its way into my mind. Chase had knowingly endangered my life. He’d kidnapped me and manipulated me. There was no telling how far he’d go to get what he wanted.
“When did this happen?”
“Late last night,” he replied. “But the conflict’s been brewing for weeks now, ever since Mr. Chase took over as acting Chairman.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
He shrugged. “The MTA’s got a big deficit. Mr. Chase needed to draw the line somewhere. He’s asking for cuts across the board, with heavy emphasis on pensions and healthcare benefits.”
“Let me guess. They refused to budge?”
He nodded. “Did you know that public workers in this town make more dough than private ones? Mr. Chase just wants to bring them back into line and save the city some money, that’s all.”
“He’s a real altruist.”
Walker fell silent. I sat back in my seat, feeling less comfortable by the minute. Chase was prone to abrupt, egocentric action. I didn’t like working for him. Only thoughts of Kolen kept me from demanding a ride back to the airport.
Kolen was a grumpy, tough old man. But he’d been a faithful friend to me ever since we met. He was one of the few people who stood by me after the incident. I couldn’t turn my back on him, not now, not in the moment of his greatest need.
The minutes ticked by and I grew increasingly stir-crazy. I felt smothered by memories of Kolen, memories of my old life. I needed to move, to experience life. I wanted to leave the safety and comfort of the Town Car. I wanted — no, I needed — to see Manhattan again, on my own terms. I needed to reconnect with it, to understand it.
Tentatively, my fingers reached for the door.
I jiggled the handle.
Locked.
Walker shot me a disapproving look. “Thinking of going somewhere?”
“I’m just bored. We’ve only gone five blocks in the last thirty minutes.”
“Traffic will pick up soon. Once people get sick of waiting, they’ll clear out of here.”
“And go where? As far as I can see, every road is packed and every parking space is filled.”
“It’ll clear out. Just give it time.”
“If I give it anymore of my time, I’m going to be filing for Social Security.”
“Want me to put on the radio?” he asked. “Or if you like, there’s a television set in front of you. Just pull down the panel on the back of my seat.”