Kurt's plan had been sketchy from the start other than knowing he'd be bringing the women back to the Wingate. He thought he'd first locate the women and then improvise, and at present he was still reconnoitering the area. It was his third pass through the square. On the first pass he'd located the building. It was the first on the upper right. He'd paused long enough to note that it was five stories tall with the top dormered and another story partially below grade. Whether there was a basement below that, he did not know. It had one entrance in the front at the top of five steps. He assumed there was another door in the back, but the first story in the back was obscured by a brick wall.
On the second pass he'd noted the degree of activity in the area. A lot of renovating was going on, so there were a number of workmen and construction vehicles. Within the square there were several children ranging in age from four or five up to eleven and twelve. A few nannies were either chatting with each other or absorbed with their charges.
Now on the third pass, Kurt was trying to decide where to put the van. Most of the construction workers had now departed, so that had freed up spaces. He decided the best was at the Mount Vernon end despite the PRIVATE PARKING sign – after all, the construction vehicles hadn't been towed – and rounding the block again, he pulled up to the fence. Turning his head to the right gave him an unencumbered view of the building in question.
By that time Kurt's only concern was that he had not yet sighted the Chevy Malibu. He'd memorized the license number when he'd run the trace, so he was not worried he'd confuse it with a similar vehicle. He'd assumed he'd come across it either as he drove around the square or in the nearby streets. But it hadn't happened.
Despite the adrenaline flowing in his veins, Kurt maintained his calm exterior. He knew from experience that it was dangerous to give in to the excitement of such a mission. It was important to be slow and methodical to avoid making mistakes. At the same time he had to maintain his vigilance like a coiled snake, ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself.
Reaching round to the small of his back, Kurt pulled out the Clock and again checked its magazine. Satisfied he reholstered it. He then checked his knife strapped to his calf. In his right pants pocket he had several pairs of latex gloves, in his left a ski mask. In his right jacket pocket he had his collection of lock-picking tools with which he'd practiced until he'd become adept; in his left pocket he had several automatic injection devices containing a powerful tranquilizer.
After sitting in the van for almost a half hour, Kurt decided the time was right. The level of activity in the square had diminished but was not so quiet he'd stand out as a stranger. Kurt got out of the van and locked it. After a final, casual glance around the area, Kurt set out for number one Louisburg Square.
With his van keys in his hand, Kurt went up the steps to the building's front door. Holding the keys as if he were having unexpected trouble with the lock, Kurt went to work with the lock-picking tools. It took him longer than he'd anticipated, but the cylinder finally yielded to his efforts. Without looking back, Kurt pushed in the door and stepped inside the building.
The squeals of the children still playing in the square died away as the door closed. Without rushing, Kurt put away his tools and started up the stairs. He knew from the doorbell panel that Deborah Cochrane and Joanna Meissner occupied the fourth floor. He assumed that Joanna Meissner was Prudence Heatherly, but he intended to confirm that assumption.
With each flight, Kurt's excitement built. He truly loved the type of action he was anticipating. In his mind's eye he could see Georgina Marks dressed in her disgustingly provocative dress. He wanted her alive for sure, and he wanted her back in his villa on the Wingate grounds.
Cresting the third flight, Kurt pulled on a pair of the gloves. He then reached around and gripped the Clock with his right hand but kept the gun holstered. With his left hand raised, he was about to knock when he heard the front door to the building open on the first floor below. Kurt did not panic as a less-experienced man might have. He merely stepped over to the railing and looked down the stairwell. He thought it might have been the women, but it wasn't. Instead it was a solitary man trudging up the stairs after a day at the office. Kurt couldn't see the individual except for his arm gripping the banister.
Kurt prepared himself for whatever confrontation was going to occur. His plan was to start down as if on his way out if the individual began to climb the third flight. But the ruse wasn't necessary. The man stopped on the second floor, keyed open a door, and disappeared. The hallway lapsed back into its sepulchral stillness.
Kurt went back to the door to the fourth-floor apartment. He knocked loud enough for the occupants to hear if they were home, but not loud enough to disturb other people in the building. He waited, but when no one responded and he could hear no sounds from within, he went back to work with his lock-picking tools. As was typically the case in Kurt's experience, the interior apartment door was more of a challenge than the outer door, mainly because it had two locks: a regular lock and a separate deadbolt.
The regular lock was easy, but the deadbolt took patience. Finally it gave way and opened. In the next instant Kurt was within the apartment and had the door closed. With speed that belied his earlier slow and deliberate movement, Kurt dashed through the apartment to make certain it was empty. He didn't want to give anyone a chance to make a 911 call. To be complete, he checked every room and every closet. He even peered under the beds.
Once he was satisfied he was alone in the unit, he checked the alternate exit. It was a fire escape that zigzagged its way down the back of the house. Its access was through the window of the rear bedroom. Walking back through the bedroom, Kurt caught a glimpse of a photo of a young couple. The woman looked similar enough to Prudence Heatherly despite the longer hair for Kurt to be certain the two women he was after were roommates and that Joanna Meissner was Prudence Heatherly.
Passing out of the bedroom and down the hall, Kurt entered the living room. Going over to the desk, he searched for any papers suggesting an association with the Wingate Clinic. He didn't find any, but he did find some material relating to the two aliases the women had used. Kurt carefully folded these sheets and pocketed them.
Continuing on, Kurt found a photo of Georgina. He preferred to relate to her as Georgina rather than Deborah. In the photo Georgina had her arm around an older woman Kurt assumed was Georgina's mother. He was astounded how different Georgina looked in dark hair and chaste attire. Her lascivious transformation was clearly the work of the devil.
Kurt put the photo down and opened up the top drawer of the bureau. Reaching in he pulled out a silky pair of lace panties. Despite the latex gloves that dampened his sense of touch, there was something about the feel of the lingerie that excited him.
Leaving the second bedroom, Kurt walked back through the living room and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, he was disappointed. He'd expected a cold beer, and the fact. there was none irritated him immeasurably.
Returning to the living room Kurt removed the Clock from i: small of his back and placed it on the floor. Then he sat down: the couch. He checked his watch. It was well after seven, and he wondered how long he'd have to wait for Georgina and Prudence to return.
"IT'S CALLED WAARDENBURG SYNDROME," CARLTON SAID. He nodded as if agreeing with himself, then sat back with a proud expression on his youthful face. He and the women were sitting at a Formica table in the middle of the MGH basement cafeteria where he'd brought them for a quick bite of supper since nor of them had eaten. Carlton was on call that night and had warned them he could be paged for some emergency at any moment.