"You spotted that? It's pointed toward the area in front of the door, not toward the street. When we get John out of there, I'm going to tell him to move to a building with better security."
"Is that a mind trick you use with your clients?"
"'Mind trick'?"
" 'When we get John out of there.' You put me in the future and made me believe everything's going to be fine. It's very reassuring."
Another car stopped at the building's delivery zone, this one marked pizza hut.
"My turn." Jamie looked grateful for something to do to control her nerves.
As the driver pulled pizza boxes from the car, she approached him, rubbing her hands together in hungry anticipation. "Hi. We decided to come down for a smoke and save you the trouble of going upstairs. Unit six twenty-eight. We're starved."
The pimply teenager looked starved as well, but for something other than food. He nearly dropped his boxes at the sight of the attractive woman standing next to him. "Um," he said. "Um. Lemme see." He studied a delivery slip taped to a box. "Yep, six twenty-eight."
"Wonderful."
"Two mediums? One pepperoni and black olives? The other deluxe?"
"Exactly. They smell delicious. How much do I owe you?" Jamie added a tip and took the two boxes. "See you next time."
"Yes, ma'am." The kid blushed. "Thank you." He looked flustered as he got in the car and drove away.
"Two medium pizzas. Enough for two husky guards," Jamie said.
"Seems that way to me," Cavanaugh said, "unless there's only one guard and he's being generous to his prisoner, which I doubt."
"That they ordered food means they're feeling comfortable, right?"
"Right. They assume nobody knows they're keeping John prisoner."
"So what happens now?" Jamie asked.
"We go back to the park, find somebody sleeping in the bushes, and donate these pizzas. All we need are the boxes."
Jamie looked puzzled.
"I need to tear off the top of one box and the bottom of the other so I can stack them together to hold my Kevlar vest," Cavanaugh said.
15
The guard looked up from the counter as Jamie held the door open and Cavanaugh carried the pizza boxes into the lobby. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare of the lights.
"Hi. We're with the surprise party for Ted up in nineteen eleven," Cavanaugh said.
The guard's face was stern. "A bunch of pizzas went up about twenty minutes ago."
"I knew we should have brought ribs, french fries, and coleslaw," Jamie said.
"You really do think a lot about food," Cavanaugh said, trying to sound humorous in spite of the tightness in his chest.
"Tell them to make sure to keep the noise down," the guard said. "We don't want complaints from the neighbors."
"Mum's the word," Cavanaugh said.
The guard pressed a button that caused a waist-high gate on the right to buzz and unlock.
"Thanks." They went through and reached the elevators, where Jamie pressed the up button. After a short wait that felt interminable, one set of doors made a ding and opened.
Hating elevators, Cavanaugh entered. As Jamie reached to push the button for the sixth floor, he murmured, "Stop."
"What's the matter?"
"The guard will watch the numbers above the elevator to make sure we go to the floor we said we wanted."
"Ooops." Jamie pushed the button for the nineteenth floor.
The doors closed.
Cavanaugh's legs felt heavy as the elevator rose. He watched orange numbers on a console go from one to two to three. It seemed to take a long time to reach nineteen, enough for him to repeat instructions he'd given to Jamie before they'd entered the building.
"You're sure they'll open the door?" Jamie asked.
"For a pimply delivery kid, they'd keep a chain on the door, hand money through the crack, and tell the kid to hand in the pizzas sideways. But after they get a look at you through the peephole, believe me, they'll open the door. Undo your blouse."
"Excuse me?"
"The top three buttons."
"What kind of girl do you think I am?" Jamie undid them.
Good, Cavanaugh silently told her. Keep making jokes. It tells me you're in control.
And what about me? Cavanaugh wondered. Am I in control?
Ding. The doors opened. His breath rate increasing, he stepped out onto a new-looking beige carpet in what smelled like a freshly painted white corridor that had bright overhead lights and no one in view.
A quick look each way showed them a door marked stairs on their right. They pushed through and found themselves in a dank concrete stairwell even more brightly lit than the corridor. As Jamie shut the door, Cavanaugh checked for security cameras but saw none. They listened for noises and heard none. Their footsteps echoed as they descended in a cautious hurry to the sixth floor.
Outside the door, they paused.
"Can you manage this?" Cavanaugh kept his voice low. "I'll be right there next to you. Just do everything exactly as I explained."
Jamie hesitated.
"It's not too late to back out," he said.
"Sure it is," she said. "I'll never be able to force myself to go this far again."
"Maybe you shouldn't go this far at all." "Can you save John without me?" Cavanaugh didn't answer.
"Then give me the boxes." Jamie's pupils were large. Cavanaugh watched her react to the weight of the Kevlar vest in them. She arranged the boxes so they pushed up slightly under her breasts, widening the gap where she'd opened the buttons.
"They'll think they'd died and gone to heaven," Cavanaugh said. "Before you knock on their door, close your eyes for a few seconds. That'll make your pupils smaller, so you won't seem on edge. Remember, if you hear a TV, it means they're careless. Good watchdogs keep the room quiet so they can hear noises outside." Jamie took a deep breath and nodded toward the door. "Open it."
16
The sixth floor had the same type of new-looking beige carpet and freshly painted white walls as on the nineteenth. Tense, Cavanaugh followed Jamie along the corridor. As he'd anticipated, after 10:00 p.m. no one was in it.
It's still not too late to back out, he kept telling himself.
Sure it is. If I back out, I might not get another chance to save John.
Unit 628 was on the right. Pressing himself against the wall next to it, Cavanaugh heard the muffled sounds of an explosion, followed by gunshots, sirens, and pulsing music: an action program on television. He gave Jamie a reassuring look and drew his pistol.
Jamie stood in front of the door's peephole and closed her eyes. When she opened them a few seconds later, her pupils were a normal size, in no way suggesting she was under stress.
But Cavanaugh was. He made a sudden decision that he should never have allowed her to be part of this. He motioned to her that they were leaving.
Jamie ignored him and knocked on the door.
Cavanaugh motioned even more forcefully.
Paying no attention, Jamie knocked again, and this time, the TV's sound went off.
We're in it now, Cavanaugh thought. He marveled at how bored Jamie made herself look in front of the door's peephole, the pizza boxes propping up her breasts.
With a loud scrape, a lock was disengaged. Cavanaugh pressed himself closer to the wall, keeping far enough away that he couldn't be seen.
As he expected, whoever was in there opened the door only as far as a chain would allow.
"You ordered two medium pizzas?" Jamie looked at the piece of paper taped to the top box. "Pepperoni and black olives? The other deluxe?"
"Usually it's a kid who delivers." The man had a European accent.
"No shit," Jamie said. "My husband and I own the business. Three delivery kids didn't show up tonight. Lucky me, here I am."
The man chuckled. "How much?"
She raised the boxes tighter to her breasts while she leaned down to read him the price on the piece of paper.