“Think carefully,” said the voice. “And let’s start again. Did that man back there give you any documents?”
“No. I didn’t know him.” Joe remembered the papers stuffed in Rebar’s pockets. He hadn’t seen them just now when he filmed the body. But, if this man had killed Rebar, surely he must have been the one who took the papers.
The tracks’ humming grew to a roar. A train barreled down the tracks upon which Joe stood. The engineer saw Joe, and his eyes widened. Joe was right in his path.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw the shadows that concealed the man twitch. Joe was certain that he was aiming his gun.
“Heel,” Joe yelled. He spun, then jumped to the other side of the tracks mere feet ahead of the moving train. Edison’s solid form pressed close to his right leg. Joe ducked against the side of the tunnel before the train reached them, pulling Edison down, too.
The man with the gun was on the other side of the moving train, so Joe was safe from a bullet for now, but not out of danger. Yet.
The train barreled past, cars passing so close that Joe could have reached out and touched them. If he hadn’t jumped when he had, he’d have been cut to hamburger by the wheels. His body wanted to flatten itself against the side of the tunnel and wait, but his brain wouldn’t let it.
He had to use the train as a shield.
Joe ran. On one side was the unforgiving stone of the tunnel, on the other the moving train. Heat and light blasted off its metal walls. The moving air pushed him sideways, and he fought to stay upright. If he lost his footing, he would be chopped to mincemeat under the wheels.
He snatched a quick glance to the side. He needed a tunnel, an open door, anything that would let him and Edison hide or escape.
No exits.
Chapter 10
Joe ran, arms close to his sides so that they didn’t strike the train or the tunnel. The screech of metal on metal as the train braked scraped every nerve in his body. If he’d dared to raise his hands, he would have clapped them over his ears.
Silver cars whizzed by close enough to touch. The smell of metal and electricity urged him on.
Light bloomed ahead. The train slowed.
A platform.
The train arrived ahead of him, stopping with a jerk. Joe threw a glance over his shoulder. He jumped across the third rail, ducked past a pillar, and reached the stairs that led to the platform opposite where the train had stopped. Edison tore up the stairs ahead of him.
A few passengers stood waiting for the next train. Joe barreled past them and up toward the terminal itself. He and Edison didn’t stop running until they reached the lobby of the Hyatt.
Once there, he stopped. Sweat soaked his shirt. His heart pounded, and he could not stop shaking. The screech and thunder of the train still rang in his ears. He had almost died down there. A single stumble would have killed him.
Frederick, the concierge, hurried over. “Mr. Tesla, are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Joe said.
“Let’s sit down.”
Frederick led him to his regular chair by the Starbucks stand. Tiffany was setting up for the start of her day, loading a tray full of pastries into the glass display case. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
Joe sat and examined Edison, running his hands along the dog’s body from head to tail. He was uninjured physically, but the usually mellow dog pressed against Joe’s legs, back bowed with fear.
“It’s OK, Edison,” he said. “It was close, but we’re OK.”
Edison nosed his head between Joe’s leg and the chair, and Joe petted his back.
Tiffany pressed a warm cup into his hand. “Chamomile. It’s calming.”
He realized that they thought he’d had another panic attack. They’d seen him have enough of them as he’d tried over and over again to leave the hotel by the front door. But this time his danger was external.
He took a slow sip of tea, then pulled his cell phone from its special pocket. His hands shook so that he could not dial.
Another sip of tea. A round of deep breaths. He was an expert in recovering from moments when he expected to die. The surprise gift of his panic attacks: They had prepared him to deal with real panic.
“Thanks,” he said. “We’re OK.”
Tiffany and Frederick left him alone. He closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow, his heart to calm.
He started to dial 911, but stopped before he pressed the Send button. In his current state, they’d never believe him. Even if they did, they’d drag him down to their offices to question him. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t go outside.
Instead, he called his lawyer, Daniel Rossi. Daniel answered immediately, one of the perks of his Pellucid money.
“There’s a situation down in the tunnels.”
“A situation?” said Daniel. He sounded as if he’d been up for hours.
Joe quietly described everything that had happened, keeping an eye on the nearly empty lobby in case someone might overhear.
“Stay there,” Daniel said. “I’ll take care of this. For the love of God, don’t talk to a single solitary other person about this until I get there.”
He hung up.
Joe fed Edison a treat and finished his tea, feeling his heartbeat slow. He was safe. It was OK. Tiffany and Frederick watched him, but they didn’t seem too worried. He guessed that was one advantage of cracking up regularly in their lobby.
His phone rang. Celeste. He hoped it wasn’t her nurse, Patty, with bad news.
“Joe,” he answered, holding his breath until he heard her voice.
“Good morning!” She sounded breathless, as if she had been the one running instead of him.
“You’re up early.” She never called before ten.
“A little bird told me that you’re in trouble.”
“How?” He’d barely even hung up on Daniel, and he trusted the attorney.
“I know people who know people,” she said.
“Daniel?” he asked.
She laughed. “He would never betray a client. And I would never betray a source.”
How much should he tell her? She had enough to worry about. He needed to protect her. “I found something weird.”
“A partial truth,” she said.
“Are you having a strong day?” Distraction might work.
“Neutral,” she said. “Zero.”
“Black,” he answered automatically. “Like the ocean at night.”
“I like that,” she said. “I’d paint that if I could.”
“It’d be beautiful.”
She let out her breath in what now constituted a laugh. “Are you going to hack into God knows where and put up black waves, like the seagull?”
“Do you want me to?” As soon as he finished meeting with Daniel.
“Not this time,” she said. “Let’s keep it just between us. A secret. Speaking of—”
A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped.
“Just me.” Daniel held up his hands in mock surrender. “Please tell me that’s not the police.”
“I gotta go, Celeste.” He hung up, hoping that she hadn’t heard Daniel’s words.
Daniel smoothed back his unkempt hair. He looked as if he’d run the whole way. “Have you talked to anyone else? What did you tell Celeste?”
“That I found something weird. That’s all,” Joe said. “Shouldn’t I talk to the police, tell them, too?”
“Under no circumstances.”
“There’s a dead man,” Joe said. “And I was chased by a guy with a gun. Serious stuff.”
“I understood that from your call and relayed the information to Mr. Goldstone from our criminal division,” his lawyer said. “He’ll pass those details along.”