“Got a few minutes?” Bane asked her.
Janie feigned disappointment. “And I thought you came here to ask me for lunch.”
“At eleven o’clock in the morning?”
“I had an early breakfast, remember? Oh well, I guess you might as well come upstairs.”
The staircase was carpeted and Bane followed her up it into a modest office that was more functional than anything else. A computer terminal dominated a desk cluttered with papers and reports, as if it belonged to someone perpetually behind. In fact, Janie was always trying to get ahead, hence the clutter.
“I ever tell you about the helicopter pilot who helped me in Nam, guy named Jake Del Gennio?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Well, until this morning he was an air traffic controller at Kennedy.”
“What happened?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Somebody lifted him.”
And Bane proceeded to relate the events of the past sixteen hours since he’d met the Swan at La Maison and first learned about a 727 that vanished.
“That’s quite a story,” Janie told him at the end, no longer smiling. “But how do you know he’s gone for good? He might have panicked, run off.”
Bane shook his head. “I was in his apartment. Somebody went to great pains to make sure the place looked normal, somebody very professional … There were no imprints in the rugs.”
“Imprints?”
“Every footstep makes an imprint in the kind of carpeting Jake had. Not much but there if you know what to look for. Vacuuming lifts them out. The only imprints in Jake’s place now are mine because somebody wanted very much to disguise how many people had been there before me.”
Janie’s eyebrows flickered. “I see the point. But how can I help?”
“Something Jake’s boss said this morning stuck with me.”
“The connection of the vanishing jet with the government?”
“Right, but which branch of the government? Think you might be able to dig that up for me on those wonderful computers of yours?”
“Shouldn’t be much of a problem.” Janie hesitated. “You think this branch might be connected to what happened to your friend?”
“At this point, I’m grasping. Which leads me to my next request: the passenger manifest from Flight 22. Think you can round it up?”
Janie frowned, shook her head. “Sorry, Josh, I can’t help you there. My computer lines don’t have access or clearance to mess with civilian ones. More streamlining of Center operations. I guess I could arrange to tap into I–Com-Tech’s lines but—”
“I–Com-Tech?” Bane interrupted.
“That’s right. We share occasionally. So?”
“So you just lost your lunch date, sweetie. I–Com-Tech’s where the Bat hangs his hat these days.”
“Harry Bannister?”
“None other.”
“Sounds like old home week for you, Josh.”
Bane’s face became grim. “Except Jake Del Gennio’s gonna be missing the festivities.”
Chapter Seven
Many say that the expansive Rockefeller Center is a prime cornerstone of Manhattan, functionally as well as aesthetically, and Bane agreed with them. With almost 200 shops and businesses contained in the complex, not to mention headquarters for a score of major corporations, it was difficult to argue otherwise.
The International Communications Technology building was actually an extension of the Exxon structure, sharing the fountain pool that was a close cousin to the Time & Life version across West Fiftieth Street. Bane took a cab from the Center and had the driver drop him on the Avenue of the Americas, a couple blocks from I–Com-Tech so he could walk the rest of the way and check for tails. Not that he expected any. Couldn’t be too careful now, though.
The entrance to I–Com-Tech was off West Fiftieth, and Bane approached it by way of the fountain-pool fronting the Exxon building. He flirted briefly with the notion of tossing a penny in and making a wish, and would have done just that if he hadn’t been counting on Harry the Bat to grant his wish instead.
I–Com-Tech housed the largest computer facilities on the East Coast, including many of Washington’s most important programs and much data. Noble minds had long ago decided that for strategic reasons New York should be the technological center and storing house for the country, not the capital. So, little which passed before important eyes did so without first passing through New York in general and I–Com-Tech in particular.
The government had stowed Harry Bannister in a cubicle on the ninth floor of the mirrored building after a shattered spine had rendered him unfit for duty in the field. Though Bane had lost personal contact with the Bat, he had maintained close knowledge of Harry’s progress in his new career, always stopping short of the phone call or visit he had promised himself.
But today was different. Today he had a reason, and besides, the difficult part of the reunion had happened yesterday at the rally.
“Well Lord fuck a duck, if it isn’t Joshua Bane,” Harry roared when Bane appeared outside the six-foot, enclosed square he worked out of. “Twice in two days. Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Or maybe I just died and went to heaven.”
“When you die, Harry, it won’t be heaven.”
The Bat laughed and wheeled himself toward Bane, who reached down and took his extended hand. Then Harry noticed the grim look etched over his features.
“What’s wrong, Josh?” he wondered.
“Jake Del Gennio’s dead.”
The Bat went white. “Dead? Shit, how?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Somebody very professional lifted him. He won’t be coming back.”
“Any idea who the bastards are?”
“Not yet, but I’ve got some leads.”
The Bat’s features tightened. “I got a couple weeks vacation coming to me. How ’bout I put in my voucher and we track the bastards down together?”
Bane shook his head. “No, Harry, it’s too early for that. Somebody offed Jake because of something he saw three days ago. And whoever it was, they were damned efficient.”
“What did Jake see three days ago?”
“He claimed a 727 vanished into thin air. That’s what he wanted to see me about yesterday.”
“And did it?”
“Maybe. Nobody’s talking.”
“Except Jake….”
“Not anymore,” corrected Bane.
“Jesus Christ, this feels like the old days, Josh.” The Bat cracked his knuckles. “So what do you need? What can my magic keyboard obtain for you?” Harry smiled. Bane hadn’t made the request yet but there were some things that didn’t need saying.
He didn’t hesitate. “The passenger manifest from Central Airlines Flight 22 of three days ago.”
“It would seem a whole lot easier to obtain from the airline.”
“I want to keep this in the family, Harry. If I get the manifest from the airline, whoever offed Jake would know I was interested.”
“It may be dangerous, then.”
“It already is.”
The Bat slapped his dead thighs. “Well Lord fuck a duck, I was hoping you’d say that.” His face glowed, vital and alive. The bitterness Bane had sensed the day before was gone. “Of course, in view of the danger I feel entitled to ask for something in return.”
“Just name it.”
Harry wasn’t quite ready to yet. “Funny thing about this computer of mine. I can get you information on just about anything. I’ve got access to almost every tape that travels on commercial or government lines … except one: intelligence, the one I need the most.”