“That’s why I’m here, actually. I moved in to take care of my mom after my dad died, and when she died, I inherited her co-op membership.”
“Ah. When was that?”
“Three years ago.”
“So maybe that’s why you’re a member of the co-op but don’t pay attention to the building’s business.”
Gen shrugged. “I thought you said hardly anyone did.”
“Well, the reserve finances are a little esoteric. But it’s a co-op, you know. So actually a lot of people keep their hand in the game one way or other.”
“I probably should,” Gen allowed.
Charlotte nodded at this, but then something else struck her: “Everyone’s going to know pretty soon about something that came up at the last board meeting. There’s been an offer made on the building.”
“Someone wants to buy the whole building?”
“That’s right.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know. They’re operating through a broker.”
Gen had a tendency to see patterns. No doubt it was an effect of her job, and she recognized that, but she couldn’t help herself. As here: someone disappears from a building, they have powerful relatives and colleagues, the building gets an offer. She couldn’t help wondering if there was a connection. “We can refuse the offer, right?”
“Sure, but we probably have to vote on it. Get an opinion from the membership, even a decision. And the offer is for about twice what the building is worth, so that will tempt a lot of people. It’s almost like a hostile takeover bid.”
“I hope it doesn’t happen,” Gen said. “I don’t want to move, and I bet not many residents here want to either. I mean, where would we go?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Some people think money can solve anything.”
Gen said, “How can you tell if their bid is twice what the building’s worth? How can anyone tell what anything is worth these days?”
“Comparisons to similar deals,” Charlotte said.
“Are deals like this going down?”
“Quite a few. I talk to people on the boards of other buildings, and Lemmas meets once a month, and a lot of people are reporting offers, even a couple of buyouts. I hate what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
“Well, I think that now that sea level appears to have stabilized, and people have gotten past the emergency years—well, that was a huge effort. That took a lot of wet equity.”
“The greatest generation,” Gen quoted.
“People like to think so.”
“Especially people of that generation.”
“Exactly. The comebackers, the water rats, the what-have-yous.”
“Our parents.”
“That’s right. And really, they did a lot. I don’t know about you, but the stories my mom used to tell, and her dad…”
Gen nodded. “I’m a fourth-generation cop, and keeping some kind of order through the floods was hard. They had to hold the line.”
“I’m sure. But now, you know, lower Manhattan is an interesting place. So people are talking investment opportunities and regentrification. New York is still New York. And uptown is a monster. And billionaires from everywhere like to park money here. If you do that you can drop in occasionally and have a night on the town.”
“It’s always been that way.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact I hate it.”
Gen nodded as she regarded Charlotte. She was on the watch for any signs of dissembling, because Charlotte had connections with the missing men in more ways than one, so there was reason to be attentive. And she was a woman of strong opinions. Gen was beginning to see why her youthful marriage might have failed: a financier and a social worker walk into a bar…
But in fact Gen saw no signs of dissembling. On the contrary, Charlotte seemed very open and frank. Although it was true that being forthcoming in one area could be used to disguise withholding in other areas. So she wasn’t sure yet.
“So you’d like to stop this bid on the building?”
“Hell yes I would. Like I just said, I don’t like what it means. And I like this place. I don’t want to move.”
“I think that will be the majority opinion,” Gen said reassuringly. Then she shifted gears fast, a habit of hers; pop a surprise and see if it caused a startle: “What about our super? Could he be involved in this?”
“In the disappearance?” Definitely surprised. “Why would he be?”
“I don’t know. But he has access to the building’s security systems, and the cameras went out right when they went missing. I don’t think that could be a coincidence. So there’s that. Then also, if this hostile takeover bid wanted inside help, they might offer some people here a better deal if they took over.”
Charlotte was shaking her head through most of what Gen had said. “Vlade is this building. I don’t think he would react well to anyone trying to fuck with it in any way.”
“Well, okay. But money can make people think they’re helping when they aren’t, know what I mean?”
“I do. But he would see anything like that as a bribe, I think, and then people would be lucky to get away without getting thrown in the canal. No, Vlade loves this place, I know that.”
“He’s been here a long time?”
“Yes. He came here about fifteen years ago, after some bad stuff happened.”
“Meaning trouble with the law?”
“No. He was married, and their child died in an accident, and after that the marriage fell apart, and that’s about when we hired him.”
“You were on the board even then?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied heavily. “Even then.”
“So you don’t think he could be involved with any of this.”
“That’s right.”
Now they were both done eating, coffees emptied, and they knew the urns would be empty too. Never enough coffee in the Met. And Gen could tell she had managed to irritate Charlotte more than once. She had done it on purpose, but enough was enough. For now, anyway.
“Tell you what,” she said, “I’ll keep looking for these guys. As for the building, I’ll start coming to the member meetings, and I’ll talk to the people in the building I know, about holding on to what we’ve got.”
This came down to just a few next-door neighbors, but she hoped just saying it would pour some oil on the waters.
“Thanks,” Charlotte said. “There’ll always be meetings.”
New York’s most congested time was 1904. Or 2104.
The city lies at latitude forty degrees north, same as Madrid, Ankara, Beijing.
How’s all the big money in New York been made? Astor, Vanderbilt, Fish… In real estate, of course.
e) Vlade
“Mayday,” the Met said from Vlade’s wall monitor. He had chosen a woman’s voice for the building, and now he found himself sitting up in bed reaching for the light and then his clothes. “What’s up?” he asked. “Report.”
“Water in the sub-basement.”
“Shit.” He leaped up and threw on his Carhartts. “How much how fast, and where?”
“I have reported the first sensing of moisture. Speed of inflow not established. Room B201.”
“Okay, tell me the speed of inflow when you have one.”