‘Oh, him. Of course. He was a good guy. Crazy about bikes, but a good worker.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
He shrugged. ‘In those days, Newborn Brothers wasn’t how it is now. We dealt mostly with renovations and small buildings. We didn’t have so many workers. They were great days, and I remember them well.’
The man made no mention of his former worker’s disappearance. Vivien suspected he didn’t know about it. She preferred not to add a new element to the interview for the moment.
‘As far as you were aware, did Sparrow have any particular friends, anyone he spent a lot of time with?’
‘No. He was a quiet guy. He’d finish work and go straight home to his wife and son. They were all he ever talked about.’
‘Did anything strange happen on the site? As far as you can remember, any particular episodes, any people that attracted your attention?’
‘No, not that I recall.’ Then he gave a half-smile. ‘Apart from the Phantom of the Site.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There was this one guy with scars all over his face and hands. A real monster. Everyone thought they were burns.’
At these words, others words appeared in the minds of Russell and Vivien.
Newborn lowered his head and looked at his hands, embarrassed perhaps by what he was about to say. ‘You know how cruel you can be when you’re young. My cousin and I used to call him the Phantom of the Site, like the Phantom of the Opera.’
‘Do you remember his name?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Do you have copies of the pay slips?’
‘This was almost twenty years ago. We aren’t required to keep records all that time.’
Vivien assumed the most reassuring tone she could muster. ‘Mr Newborn, I’m not with the IRS. I’m here for an extremely important reason. Any detail can be crucial, even the most insignificant.’
Chuck Newborn decided to come clean. ‘In those days, to keep costs down, we used to hire workers off the books. It wouldn’t be possible now – the company’s too big for that kind of thing. But in those days we were forced to do it to survive. These guys I’m talking about were paid in cash, no questions asked, no paperwork.’
‘Do you remember any other details about this man?’
‘My father talked about him one evening at dinner. He’d just showed up and offered his services, for a price my father and uncle liked a lot. Plus, he was really good. As they were standing there talking the guy calculated, just by looking, how much iron and concrete was needed for the foundations.’
‘And did he ever work for you again?’
‘No. Immediately after we finished the Mistnick house he left.’
Vivien was worried she was going too fast. She granted Newborn, who had been getting increasingly nervous as the conversation proceeded, a moment’s pause.
‘And what can you tell me about the accident?’ she next asked.
‘One night the house just exploded, killing the major and all his family. Or to be more precise, it imploded. Just crumpled in on itself. There was hardly any damage to the surrounding houses.’
Vivien looked at Russell. Both of them had thought the same thing. The man had shown the same fiendish skill in calculating the quantity of explosives to plant and how to set them off as he had earlier shown in calculating the amount of iron and concrete for the foundations.
‘Did you mention him to the police at the time?’
Guilt fell like a shadow over Chuck Newborn’s face. ‘I’m afraid not.’
The reason was obvious from what he’d said earlier. Mentioning the man would have been the equivalent of handing himself in to the IRS, with the inevitable consequences. Vivien felt anger come over her like a gust of hot air.
‘Didn’t it occur to you there was something suspicious about the man’s behaviour, given the circumstances?’
Newborn bowed his head, unable to find a plausible excuse for what he was being accused of.
Vivien sighed. As she had done with Carmen Montesa, she took a business card from her bag, wrote her cellphone number on the back and held it out to the man.
‘We’re through for now. Here are my numbers. If you remember anything, let me know, any time.’
The man took the card and looked at it for a moment, as if afraid it was an arrest warrant. ‘I will, don’t worry.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Newborn.’
He said something in reply, but in such a low voice they barely heard him. Vivien and Russell walked to the door and went out. Neither of them could prove it, but deep down they were both sure that the man with the burned face who had been called the Phantom of the Site as a joke was the person they were looking for. They walked down the steps and headed for the car, leaving Chuck Newborn alone with the feeling that he’d done something terribly wrong, even though he didn’t know what it was. It would have been easy enough to tell him, if they had been able to. It might not have been so easy for him to accept.
If Newborn Brothers hadn’t been so determined to cut costs, the man would have been arrested, and years later hundreds of human lives might have been saved.
CHAPTER 26
Russell and Vivien were back on the street.
The sky had turned blue again and the city had absorbed the latest outrage. Madison Square Park looked the way it usually did on a fine spring day. Senior citizens in search of sun, and dogs in search of trees. Mothers with children still too young to go to school and adolescents too lazy to want to. In the middle, a mime dressed up as the Statue of Liberty waited motionlessly for someone to throw coins in the can on the ground in front of him, at which point he would respond with a couple of movements. As she looked at the familiar scene, Vivien had the feeling that one of these people would suddenly turn to her and reveal a face ravaged with scars.
She stopped Russell, who was already walking towards the car. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Not really.’
‘We ought to eat something. We have time now, while we’re waiting for results, but there probably won’t be time later. I know from experience that a rumbling stomach isn’t good for concentration.’
At the corner of the park, on the other side of the street, was a grey-painted stand serving hot dogs and hamburgers. In its very simplicity it had a certain elegance and did not jar with the natural setting. Vivien indicated a line of people.
‘The guides say it’s the best in New York. At lunchtime the line stretches all the way to Union Square.’