Ozan watched the commuters rush in through the Lexington Avenue entrance. They left wet footprints on the stone floor. A slipping hazard, an easy way to disguise an accidental death. Not that he needed one right now, but he was always on alert to add to his repertoire.
He sipped his hot black coffee. He was due to meet Rash Connelly at nine sharp by the clock in the concourse. They were going down to Tesla’s lair to see if they could find another way that Tesla could have gotten out of his house. Ozan bet that Tesla had a back door. He was too smart not to.
He took a long sip of his strong coffee. He felt better today than he had in a long time — stronger, more clear-headed. A good night’s sleep on Erol’s floor was all he’d needed.
His cell phone rang.
“Saddiq.” He smiled at a blonde ordering a ridiculously complicated coffee that seemed to consist more of things being left out than added.
“Verifying that you have not located the papers.”
“I have not.” It was Dubois. Ozan recognized his voice and his impatient air. “But we’re closing in on Tesla, and I understand that it is imperative that he not speak to the police.”
“I doubt that he knows anything. But the orders stand.” A familiar clattering in the background gave Ozan pause.
“Are you on a train?” Ozan asked.
“Yes. I have an important meeting in the city today.”
“When do you arrive?”
“How is that relevant?” Dr. Dubois’s voice sharpened with suspicion.
“If Tesla knows something, he might come after you.”
“Ridiculous!”
“Probably.” Ozan smiled at the blonde, and she gave him an insulted look. He faced away from her. “What would it hurt if I were to meet your train and escort you safely to your destination?”
He’d have to call Connelly and reschedule their meeting.
“How would Tesla know where I am?” Dubois sounded impatient.
“I don’t know,” Ozan admitted. “He’s smart. I don’t think we should underestimate him.”
Dr. Dubois didn’t say anything. Ozan listened to the sounds of the train.
“He’s a software engineer,” Dubois said finally. “Not an assassin.”
Ozan did not tell him that the software engineer had bested him, a sought-after assassin, at every encounter so far.
“Stick with your original duties.” Dubois hung up.
Ozan dropped the empty cup in the garbage can and joined the throng heading toward the trains. He checked the arrivals board for Dubois’s train. The board said that the train was due in at 9:07 on Platform 112.
He’d meet it. If Tesla didn’t show up, no harm was done. If he did, Ozan would be ready for him. Today was a good day, and he would not fail.
Chapter 41
Vivian took her tray with four coffees from a professionally chipper teenager with buck teeth. He wished her a good day like he meant it, wiping his hands on his black apron as he turned away to help someone else have a good day. She was not a morning person, and didn’t trust people who were.
As she added sugar, wooden stirrers, and napkins to the tray, she kept her eye on a slender, dark-haired man. He was on the phone, speaking in measured tones, drinking a coffee and minding his own business. Something about him put her on edge.
She couldn’t analyze it, but it was a feeling that had saved her life more than once. When he ended his call and left the coffee shop, she followed. The terminal was packed with commuters, so it was easy to put enough space between them to keep him from becoming suspicious.
He walked at an easy pace, not too slow and not too fast. He wasn’t in any hurry, but he had someplace to be. As he stepped to the side to let a couple of teens holding hands pass, his jacket flipped open, and she saw the gun tucked into a neat shoulder holster.
She switched the coffee tray to her left hand so that her right would be free if she needed to draw her own gun. Until now, he’d seemed like an ordinary guy heading through the concourse after having his coffee. But he wasn’t.
The way he looked from side to side, studying faces, how people walked, and where the exits were spoke of an elevated situational awareness that most people didn’t possess. He was expecting trouble, or about to cause it.
When he went to the middle of the concourse and headed straight for the clock, Vivian closed the distance between them. If he took the elevator down to Tesla’s, she’d never let him go alone.
A barrel-chested man with graying ginger hair who was standing next to the north face of the clock shook the man’s hand. She recognized him — Rash Connelly. Connelly was part of the CIA team looking for Tesla. She’d met him when she came out of the elevator earlier that morning. That meant that the guy talking to him was probably part of the team — law enforcement or someone who worked for the agency. That explained his gun and his behavior. He was looking for Tesla, too. Not necessarily a good guy, but probably not a bad one, either.
She relaxed and hung back to watch. The small man and Connelly exchanged a few words. Connelly seemed irritated by whatever the man had to say, but nodded as if he agreed with the logic. Both men checked their watches, and the slender, dark-haired man headed over to the walkway that led to the arriving trains.
He looked like he had a train to catch.
Nothing unusual about that. Anyway, he wasn’t her problem, after all. Tesla was.
She headed over to Rash Connelly and smiled her best girlish smile, ready to be ingratiating. “I brought coffee.”
He took a cup and two packets of sugar. “Did you find your client?”
She sipped her own coffee and shrugged.
“Guess you wouldn’t be here if you had,” he said.
“Looks like another long day,” she said.
“Maybe not.”
“Got a new lead?” Maybe the slender man had told him something.
“Maybe I’m just optimistic.”
She laughed. “You work for the government. You can’t be optimistic.”
He ripped open a packet of sugar and dumped it in. “You’re in the private sector. Do you have some optimism to spare?”
“I used to be in government,” she said. “My supply ran out early.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to bring this coffee down to the guys, check the tunnels.”
“You think he’ll show up down there? He has to know that we’ve got it covered.”
“People surprise you sometimes,” she said. She added another sentence, hoping it made her sound lazy: “And sitting in a nice, cozy living room beats stomping around underground not finding anything.”
When she turned toward the information booth, she saw a flicker of irritation cross his face. He wasn’t excited about a day in the tunnels, either.
“Good morning, Evaline,” Vivian said to the black woman behind the counter. She’d first met her when she’d taken the elevator with Tesla, just a few days ago.
“Good morning, Miss Torres.” Evaline gave her a friendly smile. Her eyes flicked across Connelly, but she didn’t say anything to him. “Are you going back down?”
“I am indeed,” Vivian answered. “But I brought you a coffee.”
Evaline’s smile widened. “Thank you.”
She opened the door to the concourse and ushered Vivian aside. Connelly stayed outside, drinking his coffee and staring moodily in the direction that the dark-haired man had taken.
Vivian handed her one of the coffees, and Evaline set it on her desk. As she unlocked the door in the pillar, Evaline spoke in a low voice.
“I hope you find him first, Miss Torres. Mr. Tesla isn’t a killer, like they say, and I worry for him.”