“There’s no one,” Smith said. Nolan gave him a strange look, but Smith was in too much pain to try to analyze what she was thinking.
“No wife? Children? Parents? Siblings?”
Smith shook his head.
Now Nolan stared at him in open disbelief. “Best friend? Colleague at work?”
“I told you. No.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Smith gritted his teeth against another wave of pain. “Listen. We can discuss my complete lack of close personal relationships some other time. Right now we need a safe place to land.” They crossed another street, and Smith felt Nolan steering him toward a glass door covered by a red awning.
“Fine. Then let’s go here,” Nolan said. As they reached the entrance a doorman stepped out and held it for them. He nodded at Nolan.
“Good to see you, Ms. Nolan.” He gave Smith a penetrating glance and acknowledged him. Nolan headed straight to an elevator. Once inside she removed her arm from Smith’s grasp and pressed a code on a separate keypad on the wall and then the button marked “PH.” She stepped aside.
“May I ask where we’re going?” Smith said.
“My mother’s house.”
“Can she keep a secret?”
Nolan shook her head. “Not if her life depended on it. But she’s not here. She’s in Paris for the couture shows.”
“Who’s your mother?”
“Grayson Redding.”
Smith watched as the elevator lights climbed higher than the third floor. His anxiety rose along with the lift. He pulled his attention away from the display long enough for the name she had mentioned to register. He gave a low whistle.
“Of the railroad and utility fame?”
Nolan nodded.
“If you’re a Redding, how is it that you were so difficult to find on the Internet when I was searching for you? I would think the society pages would be filled with your face.”
“I told you, Landon Investments values privacy and confidentiality. We have a policy that requires us to be as discreet as possible. As well as an IT specialist who scrubs the Internet on a regular basis. I kept my married name after my divorce and that has helped, too.” The elevator made a pinging sound and the doors whooshed open directly into the residence. Smith stepped into a lavish, marbled hall with several doors leading off in different directions.
“Does she occupy the entire floor?”
Nolan tossed her keys into a glass bowl on an elaborately carved antique credenza that Smith figured cost more than his yearly salary.
“She does. And the staff is on vacation as well, so we’re alone. Come into the master bath. She keeps the first aid there.” Smith reached out and put a hand on her arm to stop her from leaving.
“I assume that an apartment as magnificent as this has an alarm system?”
“It does.”
“Set it, please.”
“Now?”
Smith nodded. “Right now.”
Nolan returned to the wall near the elevator and tapped some keys on a keypad. Smith heard the system give an answering beep as it armed, and he felt a little of the tension leave his body. The pain was steady, but the bleeding had tapered a bit.
“I’ll need some tweezers, a bowl filled with a mixture of alcohol and water, a washcloth, and some bandages.”
“Who’s going to use the tweezers?”
“You.”
Nolan sighed. He followed her through a hall lined with wallpaper that looked like silk and past open doors that gave him glimpses of a game room as well as a library. Smith thought the apartment lavish, but was having a difficult time with the fact that it was on the sixth floor and so vast that a man could run through it without being heard. They would not remain long there if he could help it.
He entered a bathroom that gave testament to the long history of money accumulated by generations of Reddings. It was larger than his kitchen at home. Quite a feat in the heart of New York City. Nolan fished around in a linen closet and removed the items he had requested. She pulled up a small stool padded in white leather and pointed him to it, positioning him in front of the first sink in the double vanity. He glanced in the mirror in front of him and was shocked to see that he was pale and drawn, with heavy pain lines bracketing his mouth.
“What’s first?”
“Help me out of this shirt. If I can’t get out, then we’ll cut it off.” He started to roll the shirt from the bottom, and Nolan reached over to assist. Some of his blood dripped next to her.
“Sorry,” he said. She waved him off.
“I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared, and Smith continued to bunch up the shirt. He was able to remove his right arm and maneuvered the fabric over to his neck. Pulling it the rest of the way was not as easy, because it strained against the wound. He winced at the first try and decided to wait until she returned. She stepped back into the bathroom wearing dark jeans and a V-neck navy sweater. Her feet were bare.
“Better,” he said. “I won’t feel as bad when I drip blood on you.”
“Let me help.” With her assistance, they were able to get the shirt over his head without causing too much pain. He only hissed once, when she pulled the bits of fabric that had crusted to the wound.
“Is it awful?”
“Not yet. ‘Awful’ will arrive when you start to dig out the bullet.”
She took a deep breath. “How do you want me to sterilize the tweezers?”
“In the alcohol full strength. No dilution.” He watched as she poured the alcohol over the tweezers.
“Does this kill everything?”
“Everything that reacts to alcohol.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Biofilms.”
She gave him a glance and stepped closer. “What are those?”
“Bacteria that colonize and become so strong that nothing kills them. Not even bleach. They have to be scraped away. The plaque on your teeth is a biofilm.”
“I can see the bullet easily. Are you ready?”
Not at all. “Yes,” he said.
She started in. He felt first the cold metal and then a lancing pain that made him groan involuntarily. She moved the tweezers a bit more and he could feel his entire body responding to the pain of this newest assault. The muscles in his arms clenched tight. His ears started to ring and his head to swim. She removed the tweezers and took a deep breath.
“I can’t reach it without first expanding the wound around it. Here.” She gave him a towel.
“What’s this for?” he said.
“You’re sweating. Round two. You ready?”
He nodded.
She put the tweezers in and the same lancing pain began. She expanded the tweezers and he felt the entire room spin. He passed out.
24
SMITH WOKE UP LYING flat on his back on the carpeted floor of one of the rooms in the apartment. A pillow had been placed under his head. From the complete darkness he assumed it was night. He heard sounds of the city rolling by outside, but nothing else. His left arm throbbed in a steady pulse to match his pumping heart, but the extreme, ice-pick pain had subsided. Next to his head came the buzzing sound of his cell phone and a small glow lit the area to his right. Smith managed to grab it with his right hand and answer without moving off the floor.
“Mr. Smith? This is Jana Wendel. I work with Ms. Russell. Can you meet me at the hospital? And please, don’t tell anyone about this call.” Wendel was whispering into the phone. Smith sat up and the small throw that someone had placed over him fell off. He groaned as his left arm reacted with renewed pain. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Why are you whispering?”
“Just meet me at the loading dock.” She gave him the directions and hung up.