As we stopped at the light, my mother leaned across to stare out of the window. “Oh Richard,” she said, her voice husky, “do you remember?”
I twisted in my seat in time to see him give her a strangely indulgent smile.
“Yes,” he said softly, “I do.” And, louder: “We’d like to walk from here, if you don’t mind.”
McGregor checked with Sean, who was sitting alongside him. Sean did a fast sweep and nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Joe,” he said. “Set us down outside the park and keep close by.”
McGregor pulled over to let us out. We crossed the road and passed under the ornate archway to enter the park proper, heading towards the circular central fountain. It was warm enough to make being out in the open air pleasant, and plenty of people were taking advantage.
As if by some unspoken agreement, Sean and I reached into our respective pockets for sunglasses and slipped them on at the same time, making it easier to move our eyes but not our heads, keeping track. I kept my coat unbuttoned and my left hand wrapped round my phone, with McGregor’s number on speed dial just in case we needed a rapid extraction, and my Bluetooth headset in place.
The crowds gave us cover but also provided it against us. Sean and I closed in, casually, on either side of my parents. He was slightly behind my father, to his left. I was a pace in front of my mother, on her right.
Between us, my parents strolled along, arm in arm, apparently oblivious to such measures. They wandered through the park, murmuring to each other, pointing out landmarks they recalled, or admiring the skills of the jugglers and the busking musicians, the studied concentration of the chess players, and the skateboarders’ laid-back cool.
While my mother and father stayed on the move it wasn’t so bad, but when they became entranced by the slick patter and slicker hands of an elderly magician down near the southwest corner and stopped to watch, I was pricklingly aware of our vulnerability. The park was bordered by trees, but Washington Square itself had plenty of buildings high enough to have a perfect view—and unobstructed trajectory—into the place.
I turned my back on my parents and quartered north and east without needing to look to know that Sean was covering west and south on the other side of them. Watching the buildings for the light and dark of closed or open windows. Watching people’s hands and eyes for movement that didn’t fit pattern. Looking for the people who didn’t fit in, the ones who were trying not to be seen.
I saw her because she wasn’t moving at all. And in the bustle of the park on a Sunday morning, that alone made her stand out—just as she’d intended it to.
Vondie Blaylock.
I would have known that cool blond figure anywhere, even without the flesh-colored dressing across her broken nose and the intense hatred that was coming off her in waves.
She was wearing a long black coat that hung heavy enough to be leather or suede and was big enough to be concealing just about anything underneath it. She was a hundred meters away, on the low flat steps leading into the fountain. There was a light breeze from the northwest, enough to distort the fall of spray and partially obscure my view of her.
What the hell are you doing here? And what the hell is Collingwood doing, letting you out?
I stepped across so I was directly between Vondie and my parents. My right hand had shifted automatically, just a fraction, my fingers brushing against the front edge of my open jacket, ready to push back the material and reach for the SIG lying hidden beneath it, but her hands gave no answering twitch. I raked the area surrounding her, looking for the additional threat, the backup, but she seemed to be alone.
I let my eyes do a fast flick behind me. Enough to check my parents hadn’t moved out from under my surveillance, that they were still watching the magician pick the pockets of an audience volunteer and laughing at the man’s bewildered expression as all his possessions were solemnly returned to him, one after another.
“Sean,” I murmured.
“Hm-mm. Got her. And I don’t like it any more than you do.” A pause, weighing up our options. “Let’s get out of here.”
My thumb had been hovering over one key on my phone and, almost before he’d spoken, I’d already pressed it. McGregor picked up before it had time to ring a second time. Quietly, I gave him concise exit instructions for the west side of the park, and Sean and I began surreptitiously to pincer in on my parents. I had every intention of practically taking my mother off her feet, if necessary, to get her out of there in one piece.
And then, as if she could read our intent, Vondie gave us a mocking, jaunty little salute, and turned away. We froze, watching her stride under the arch, her back directly towards us like a provocation. She moved with only the slightest limp on her right leg and I experienced a momentary pang of regret that I hadn’t made sure it was more pronounced.
She reached the curb just as a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up alongside her, and climbed in without a pause. She didn’t look back. We watched the Lincoln until it reached the next corner and disappeared from view.
I felt my shoulders drop and widen as the tension oozed away. I turned and found Sean staring narrow-eyed after the Lincoln.
“They’re playing games with us,” I said.
He nodded. “I agree. ‘Look how easy I can get to you, anytime I want.’”
“Yeah,” I said tightly. “I thought Collingwood was supposed to be putting a muzzle on that bitch.”
“Maybe he has,” he said flatly. “Just imagine what she might have done if he hadn’t.”
I glanced at my parents, expecting they would still be caught up in the show, only to find my mother also staring after the black Lincoln. Her body was rigid and I knew it wasn’t just the car, which would have meant nothing to her. She must have seen Vondie and recognized her. So, maybe that taunting wave wasn’t just for me. My father’s eyes were on his wife, concerned but questioning, as though he didn’t know what had caused her sudden reaction.
I moved in, touched my mother’s arm and found she was vibrating through her coat.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She finally tore her gaze away from the other side of the park and swept it over me. I was astonished to see, not fear, but anger lighting up her features.
“Yes,” she said at last, calmly, and added through gritted teeth, “I utterly refuse to allow that woman to frighten me any longer.”
“That’s … good,” I said slowly. “But she scares the hell out of me, so we’re leaving.” I caught my father’s eye. “Unless you feel we’re overreacting?”
“No.” He shook his head, clearly more shaken than he was prepared to admit, and cast a jaundiced eye over the magician. I could see that whereas before his act had seemed fresh and funny, now it had taken on a rather tawdry air. The sun had gone in unexpectedly and left the day bathed in cloud and shadow that was reflected in my father’s face. “I think I’ve seen more than enough.”
Parker managed to reach Collingwood at home, or wherever the crumpled little man went at the weekends. Collingwood called me direct on my mobile a short while later.
“I’m very sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely mortified. “Agent Blaylock is temporarily suspended until the internal investigation is complete and, believe me, I made it, ah, totally clear to her that she’s in a world of trouble.”
“Not clear enough, obviously.”
I heard his sigh. “She’s hurting right now,” he said, aiming for reproach. “She’s gonna need surgery on that nose. You really messed her up.”
“I did no more than she was undoubtedly prepared to do to me,” I said mildly. “Sort her out, Collingwood, or I’ll do it for you.”