APRIL IN PARIS
Janet Rivenbark
Catherine woke
to find herself squashed between two large men in the backseat of a car.
Still? she wondered. Or again?
She didn’t know
how long this had been going on. She’d been drugged so many times that she’d
lost count. She glanced down at herself.
So, that
part was real, she
mused. I was moved from the first place, allowed to shower, and given clean
clothes.
The white
surgical scrubs looked like pajamas but were stiff, scratchy, and smelled of
bleach.
She was
startled by the harsh voice when the man on her left spoke.
“What’s the holdup?”
he demanded.
His comment
made her aware that the car wasn’t moving.
“Your guess is
as good as mine,” the driver answered.
Then, there was
a loud bang, and the car jerked as it was hit from behind.
The driver
swore and got out. Catherine could hear arguing outside, then the man on
Catherine’s left got out and went back to where the driver was arguing with the
driver of the car that had hit them.
Catherine slowly
raised her head and looked around. She still felt a little groggy, but her head
was clearer than it had been for a long time.
Traffic was at
a standstill; she glanced at the clock on the dash.
A little
after five, she
absently noted. Rush hour traffic.
After a few
minutes, the man on her right turned and looked through the rear window at what
was going on.
“Damn, we don’t
have time for this. The Boss expects us by six,” he growled.
Then Catherine
watched incredulously as he exited the car and left the door open.
She didn’t give
it any thought; her hands and feet were free. This was her chance. She slid
across the seat to the right side of the car, and as soon as her feet hit the
pavement, she was running. She stumbled a little when she reached the curb but
managed to stay upright.
She didn’t know
how long she ran; she had no idea if or when she was missed. She dodged in and
out of the after-work crowds and didn’t look up until she’d gone several
blocks.
When she
finally slowed down enough to catch her breath and look around, she realized
she was standing in front of the building where Chandler & Coolidge
occupied two floors, twenty stories up.
The clock had
said that it was after five; the offices would be closed, but maybe someone
would be there. Even if no one was, she still had the combinations to the
locks. She still had an interest in the business side of the firm, so she still
had access.
She didn’t want
to be seen by anyone in the lobby, so she used one of the lesser-used entrances.
Again, so she wouldn’t see anyone, she took the stairs.
The last few
days of little or no food or water were catching up to her. It was slow going,
but she took her time and eventually made it to the floor that housed the suite
of offices where the senior partners of Chandler and Coolidge were.
The reception
desk was unoccupied, but the hall door from the waiting room to the offices
stood open. Someone was still there. She hoped it was Jay… he often worked
late.
She used the
phone at the reception desk and buzzed Jay’s office.
“Pat, I thought
you went home an hour ago,” Jay said as he picked up.
Catherine gave
a sigh of relief.
“It’s not Pat,
Jay. It’s me, Cathy, and I need your help. I’m coming back.”
She hung up
before Jay could respond.
Jay met her
halfway, and she ran into his arms.
“Cathy. What
happened? Where have you been? Half the city is looking for you.”
“I’ll explain,
but first, I need to sit down before I fall down.” She was realizing just how
exhausted she was.
Jay led her
back to his office, and when she was comfortable on the sofa, he went and got
her some water.
“You look like
you’ve been through the wringer! You rest while I call the police and let them
know you’re back.”
Catherine
almost choked on the water.
“No! Don’t let
anyone know,” she sputtered. “I don’t know who can be trusted. Especially after
what John did.”
“John? John,
who?”
“My boss, the
DA. He had me kidnapped, then he turned me over to someone else. I heard the
name Gabriel associated with the title of Boss a few times, but that is about
all I know.”
Jay looked
stunned as he sat next to Catherine.
“All right.
Catch your breath, drink some more water, and then tell me everything.”
It took a while
for Catherine to collect her wits, but eventually, she got around to telling
the story.
“Something is
going on in this city,” she told Jay. “It appears to be a big corruption ring.
Joe met with a friend, a lawyer who worked for someone involved and was willing
to expose everything, but only after he got himself and his family out of
danger. He gave Joe a book containing everything, but it’s all in code. He
promised to send the key as soon as he and his family reached safety.
“But someone
was onto him, and he was killed in an explosion right after he and Joe left the
bar where they’d met. Joe was injured, and when I went to see him in the
hospital, he told me to get the book out of his coat and keep it safe until he
could deal with it.
“I did that and
took it home. I took it to the office, made copies, and gave a copy to John. I
looked at it, but nothing made any sense. So I decided to take a chance and
take it to Elliott Burch. I figured that if anyone had the resources to break
the code, it would be him. I asked Elliott to let me know as soon as he had
anything.”
“I was leaving
the office the next day when I was kidnapped. I was in my car, and someone
approached and stuck a gun in my face. I hit the accelerator and almost got
away, but they chased me. At one point, I got out of my car, intending to go
back upstairs to the office; I thought I’d be safe there, but the elevator
opened before I got to my floor. John was there; I thought I was safe, but he
had me taken somewhere down near the river.
“I was
questioned about the book, but when I didn’t talk, they tried beating it out of
me, but when that didn’t work, they tried drugs; that was when I lost track of
everything.”
She remembered
thinking she’d heard Vincent calling her name, that he’d probably tried to
rescue her in answer to her messages on the pipes, but she left that part out.
“I was moved at
one point. I’m not sure where, but I was allowed to shower there and given
clean clothes.” She gestured at the scrubs she wore. “But then they started the
drugs and the questions again. I completely lost track of what day it was.” She
looked at Jay quizzically.
“It’s been
almost two weeks,” he supplied.
“That’s long? I had no idea.” Then she continued. “I don’t
know how long I was at the second location, but earlier today, they were moving
me again. I have no idea where or why.
“We got stuck
in traffic, then there was an accident, and we were hit. The driver and one of
the guards got out, and they were arguing with the driver who hit us. Then, the
other guard got out and left his door open. I didn’t stop to consider; I just
took off. I found myself in front of this building, so I came in.”
“You did the
right thing. And who knows who we can trust, except maybe Joe Maxwell.”
“Do you know if
Joe is back at work yet?” she asked.
“He’s not. It’s
been covered in the papers pretty closely. His injuries were pretty bad. He had
a couple of surgeries and was just released from the hospital yesterday. He
won’t return to work for at least a couple of weeks.”
“We need to get
word to Elliott and tell him to send the book to Joe at home, not the office.”
“Assuming he’s
had the code broken,” Jay pointed out.
Catherine
nodded. Then looked up at him.
She briefly
considered asking him to help her get to Peter Alcott. She knew that Peter
could get her Below, but after a moment, she changed her mind. She didn’t want
to risk Peter or the tunnel community.
“I’m sorry, I
really don’t know what to do from here. I can’t go home. This Gabriel saw value
in keeping me, at least until he recovered the book. But I think the long-range
plan may have been to have me killed when I was no longer useful.”
“And we don’t
know who can be trusted,” Jay agreed. “Look, you can come home with me tonight
and just stay there until we know something. It’s probably the last place
anyone would look for you.”
Catherine
nodded.
“I’m just so
tired. That’s probably the drugs. And I haven’t been able to keep anything
down, so I haven’t eaten very much.”
“OK, we are
leaving here now,” Jay said, rising and going to his desk, where he picked up
his briefcase. “We’ll get you fed, then you can sleep. I’ve been told that my
guest room is pretty comfortable.”
That was precisely
what Catherine did for the next 48 hours. She ate, slept, got up and ate, then
went back to bed. Jay was a widower, so the house was quiet during the day when
he was at work.
Two days later,
she was feeling much better, and her brain was functioning almost normally when
she joined Jay in the kitchen for dinner.
“I took it on
myself to let Mr. Burch know that you want him to get the book to Joe at home
once the code is broken.”
“You didn’t
tell him where I am, did you?” she asked.
“No, I told him
that you mailed a letter to me before you were kidnapped and that you’d asked
me to do a few things in the event of your disappearance. I made it sound like
you realized you might be in danger.”
“That was a
good idea. Thank you.”
They were
eating when she spoke up a few minutes later.
“I can’t stay
here indefinitely,” she pointed out. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing
definitive. Burch seems to think that his companies are being targeted. There’s
been a major fire in one of his buildings and some other dubious accidents at
some of his construction sites. He says he thinks it’s because he wouldn’t go
along with some questionable business deals that may be related to what you
uncovered. But I think that someone may think that he might know where you are.
It all started within hours of you escaping from them.”
Catherine
looked like she was in pain.
“I really need
to go someplace where no one can find me,” she said. “Do you think the cabin in
Connecticut would be safe?”
“Absolutely
not!” Everyone who knows you knows that you own that place. I think you might
be safer going somewhere no one would think of, maybe out of the country.” He
looked thoughtful.
“Do you have an
idea?” she asked.
“I just might.
Let me make a few phone calls, and we’ll talk.
Two days later,
Jay came to her with a plan.
“Do you
remember my wife?”
*****
“Bennett! Good,
you’re here. In my office ASAP!” Diana looked up at her Captain’s order. He
sounded irritated.
What have I
done now? she wondered
as she followed him across the room, weaving among the desks, to his office.
Once inside, he
waved her to a seat.
“You got
anything pressing for the next few months?” he asked sarcastically.
“Work,” she
answered hesitantly. “Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas?”
“No kids
graduating from somewhere, babies or grandbabies due, special anniversaries or
birthdays?”
“You kidding?”
she asked with a laugh. “What’s this all about?”
“The
commissioner met with a bunch of other commissioners at some World Police
Commissioners Convention somewhere, and he got the NYPD into a program; it’s
kind of an exchange program. All the cities involved are paired with another
city in another country. NYPD was paired with the Paris Police Department.”
“Paris,
France?” Diana interrupted.
“Where else?” he
returned.
“Well, there’s
a Paris in Texas, Kentucky, Maine, among others,” she pointed out.
“Yes, Paris,
France.” He sounded exasperated, but then he always sounded like that. “The
Commissioner of the Paris police department, the Prefect of Police, contacted
our commissioner yesterday, and he said he has someone lined up to work with us
for a while. It has to be someone from the 210 since the Paris Prefect of
Police wants to send someone from their Special Crimes Unit to work with us and
see how we do things.”
“So what’s the
problem?” Diana asked. “It’s a trip to Paris.”
“The problem is
that all the other detectives in the 210 are married. None of them want to be
away from their families for that long, and most of them have the excuses of
something special they need to be home for.”
“Just how long
is it?” she asked.
“Six months.”
“That is
a long time… Am I to assume you are asking me if I want to go?”
“I am,” he said
with uncharacteristic hesitance.
“Well, I’ve
never been to France,” she mused.
“How’s your
French?” he asked.
“Passable. I
studied it in high school and college. All my teachers told me that I understood
what I heard or read well but that my accent was awful.”
“You think you
could get by?” he asked.
“As long as I
have a partner who is a native speaker.”
“I thought you
didn’t work with a partner,” the Captain said.
“In this case,
I’d make an exception.”
“Then you’ll
go?” he asked.
“How the hell
else am I ever going to get to Paris otherwise?” she countered with a grin. “When
do I have to leave?”
The Captain
looked doubtful, and wouldn’t look her in the eye when he answered.
“Friday?”
“Friday? It’s
already Tuesday! I’ve got to finish writing up the case I just closed, get
laundry done, pack, do something about my mail, and set up something to pay my
bills. That’s not enough time!” she insisted.
“Look, finish
what you are doing, then take the rest of the week off. I’ll send you the
ticket and the information about the hotel and everything else you’ll need by
messenger tomorrow.” He looked at her closely. “You do have a passport, don’t
you?” he asked.
“Yes, I have a
passport. It’s a requirement for the job in case we have to go somewhere to
pick up a prisoner. I just hope I have enough time to get ready.”
Her ticket
arrived the following afternoon. She saw that she had a layover in London. It
was about a seven-hour flight from New York to London. She would leave JFK
around 7pm and arrive in London Heathrow around 7am local time. She would leave
London at 9:30am and arrive in Paris around noon local time. The note said her
assigned partner would meet her at the airport. He'd take her to her hotel and
see that she got checked in. Then, he would pick her up for work on Monday
morning.
Maybe I’ll
be able to sleep on the plane, she
told herself. Because I don’t think I’ll get much sleep before I leave.
She’d finished
her laundry and was ready to start packing, but as soon as she told her family
what was going on, they insisted they had to have a family dinner before she
left. At least they had agreed that the dinner would be in a restaurant since
time was short, and they left the choice up to Diana. She’d chosen Henry Pei’s
restaurant in Chinatown with the intention of killing two birds with one stone.
Diana was the
first to arrive at the restaurant Thursday evening. When Henry showed her to
the private dining room, she held an envelope out to him.
“Would you see
that this gets Below?” she asked.
*****
“Henry said
it’s from Diana,” Kipper said as Vincent took the note he was holding out to
him.
“Thank you,
Kipper.”
Vincent opened
the envelope, but it didn’t hold the news he’d hoped to see.
V—
I
just wanted to let you know that I won’t be around for a while, six months to
be exact. I’m going to Paris on a work assignment.
Detective
Jergen is taking over the Chandler case, and I’ve asked him to keep Dr. Alcott
updated on any progress. I know Alcott will let you know.
I’ll
write in care of Dr. Alcott.
Diana
*****
Cathrine leaned
on the doorjamb of the open door of the bookshop that had become her life. It
was the beginning of April; she’d been in Paris since July. It was drizzling,
more of a mist than anything. It was warm enough to make the shop a little
stuffy, so she’d opened the door.
The strains of
an old song wafted from the café across the street:
April
in Paris, chestnuts in blossom
Holiday tables under the trees.
April in Paris, this is a feeling
No one can ever reprise.
I never
knew the charm of spring,
Never met it face to face;
I never knew my heart could sing,
Never missed a warm embrace,
Till
April in Paris.
Whom can I run to?
What have you done to my heart?
Yes,
April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom
Holiday tables under the trees.
April in Paris, this is a feeling
No one can ever reprise.
I never
knew the charm of spring,
Never met it face to face;
I never knew my heart could sing,
Never missed a warm embrace,
Till
April in Paris.
Now, whom can I run to?
Oh, what have you done to my heart?
I never
knew the charm of spring,
Never met it face to face;
I never knew my heart could sing,
Never missed a warm embrace,
Till
April in Paris.
Whom can I run to?
What have you done to my heart? [i]
“Homesick?”
asked the woman at the register behind her.
“A
little. It comes and goes,” Catherine told her as she turned and walked back
into the shop. “I just realized how long I’ve been here. It’s been over eight
months, and Jay still hasn’t found anything.”
The
woman at the register was Jay’s sister-in-law Margot. He’d called her the
previous July and asked if a client could stay with her until it was
safe for her to come home. He’d insinuated that she was involved with a case
and that her life might be in danger.
Margot
had welcomed Catherine, whom she knew as Caroline Stewart and the two women had
quickly become friends. Margot had offered Catherine the apartment over the
small bookstore that she owned. Catherine had quickly fallen into the habit of
working in the store just to fill her time. Margot insisted on paying her for
her work, and when Catherine pointed out that she was already providing the
apartment, Margot reminded her that she still needed to eat.
“Perhaps
Jay will be calling to tell you to come home soon,” suggested Margot, who
always insisted on speaking English with her friend. She said she needed to learn
more to help her English and American customers when they came to the shop.
“I hope
so, but the last time he wrote, he said there hadn’t been any progress he’d heard
of. No one knows how long this will take.” Caroline sighed and walked to the
other side of the small shop. “I suppose I should stop lollygagging and blocking
the door and get back to work.”
“Lollygagging?”
queried Margot, clearly not familiar with the word.
“It
means wasting time, not working,” Caroline said.
*****
Diana
had put off shopping for souvenirs for friends and relatives until just before
it was time to go home, not because she wasn’t thoughtful, but because she
hated shopping. Now, she was out shopping only a few days before she was
supposed to leave Paris. She’d found something for everyone except her niece,
Alexandra, but when she spotted the bookshop, she had an idea.
Diana looked
around the shop. One woman was at the register, taking care of a customer,
while a woman who looked familiar was on the other side of the shop, taking books
out of a box and stacking them on a table.
It took a
moment to sink in, but then Diana realized that the woman looked just like
Catherine Chander. Her hair was a little darker, and her face was in shadow,
but Diana just knew.
Diana crossed
the shop to the woman.
“Um, excuse me,
do you speak English… My French is really rotten, and I’m trying to find a
book.”
The woman
looked up and smiled.
Catherine
recognized a Brooklyn accent in the voice addressing her. The familiar sound
made her smile.
“You’ve come to
the right place,” she said, holding up a book. “We might have a few here.”
The woman
laughed. “Well, not just any book. My niece is studying French in school in New
York, and I’m trying to find something suitable for someone her age but is in
French.”
“How old is
your niece?” Catherine asked.
“Alexandra is
7, going on 28,” the woman said.
Catherine
chuckled. “I’ve known a few like that. Are you interested in the classics or
something that is typically French?”
“Either, or
maybe both? How about a book translated from English into French, something she
might already be familiar with, and one that is what French kids are reading in
school.”
“How long has
she been studying French? Catherine asked as she led the customer to the corner
of the store where the children's books were.
Diana studied
the woman and listened to her voice. She was definitely from the States, and if
she wasn’t Catherine Chandler, Diana was committed to eating her badge.
“Since
Kindergarten. It’s an experimental curriculum. They start the kids early,
learning to Speak, then in the 2nd grade, where she is now, they
start reading it.”
“I wish they’d
had something like that when I was in school,” Catherine commented. “How about
some fairy tales?” She pulled a book off a shelf. This one is the same as one I
had when I was little, only it’s in French.” She pulled another off the shelf.
“And this one is a book of classic French fairy tales.”
The red-haired
woman took both books, leafed through them, and nodded.
“These are perfect.”
Then she looked up at Catherine. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”
Catherine
hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I’ve been living here in Paris for a while,
though.”
“Maybe we know
some of the same people,” Diana suggested. She had an idea. “By the way, my
name is Diana Bennett.”
“It’s a big
city,” Catherine pointed out, then introduced herself. “Caroline Stewart.”
“Yeah, but I’m
with the NYPD, and I know a lot of interesting people… I help out some friends
now and then. They live near the park… their names are Jacob, Mary, Rebecca,
Cullen, and I can’t forget Mouse and Vincent.”
Catherine was
stunned by the names Diana had reeled off, but she maintained her calm. She
shook her head and turned toward the front of the shop.
“If those books
are satisfactory, you can follow me to the register.”
While Margot
rang Diana up, Catherine bagged the books, then quickly scribbled a note on a
piece of paper and put it in with the books. She didn’t know who Diana Bennett
was; she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, but she had to speak to her if she
really was a Helper.
Diana paid for
her books, took the bag and left the shop. Had she been wrong? She didn’t think
so. When she’d rattled off the names, there hadn’t been much reaction, but she
had heard a quick intake of breath when she’d gotten to Vincent. She had to be
right and come up with a way to speak to the woman again.
Diana had
skipped lunch earlier and decided to stop and eat; she went to a little place
she’d found a few days after she arrived. Once seated, she set the bag with the
books on the chair next to her. It fell over, and a piece of paper fell out.
Thinking it was her receipt, she picked it up but found that it was a folded
paper. She opened it and found a hastily scribbled note:
I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. I LIVE IN
THE APARTMENT ABOVE THE SHOP. WE CLOSE AT 6PM. COME BACK JUST BEFORE THEN. OR
ANY EVENING AROUND 6.
CC
Diana smiled.
It was signed “CC”; she’d known she was right. She had a lot to tell Catherine.
Margot always
left the shop around 5pm to go home and start dinner for her family. She’d
shown Catherine how to total the day's receipts and close up the shop.
This evening,
Catherine started the closing procedure almost as soon as Margot left the shop,
and when she saw the red-haired woman coming up the street, she breathed a sigh
of relief; maybe the note had been a good idea.
As soon as the
woman was inside the shop, Catherine went outside, closed the shutters over the
shop windows, then came back inside, and closed and locked the door before she
turned to her.
“You’re a Helper?”
she asked.
“Yes. I’m a
detective with the NYPD.” She pulled something out of her oversized tote bag
and showed it to Catherine. It was her badge. “I was assigned your case after
you disappeared.”
“You know who I
am?”
“After all the
pictures I’ve seen of you, how could I not?”
“Please, come
upstairs.” Catherine turned toward the back of the store. “I’ll make some tea.
I have a lot of questions.”
Once the two
women were settled in the small living room upstairs, Catherine wasn’t sure
where to start.
“How about I
tell you what happened after you disappeared,” Diana suggested.
At Catherine’s
nod, Diana began.
“To begin with,
I’m with a special crimes unit, the 210, with the NYPD. Joe Maxwell requested
me for your case once he returned to work.”
“He’s OK? My
contact in New York said he was, but I was always worried that he might be
trying to shield me from any more bad news.”
“He’s fine.
He’s got a few new scars to show for his adventures, but the last time I saw
him, he was back at work.”
“How did you
meet… well… our mutual friends?”
“A long story,”
Diana told her. “I was on your case, and I’d been through all the evidence. I
got access to your apartment, and although it had already been gone through,
they missed a few things. I knew you were in a relationship. Everyone seemed to
know. I’d talked to Joe, your friend Jenny, Dr. Alcott, and some of your
co-workers, but none of them knew who you were seeing.
“After I went
through your apartment, I managed to find a name, but only a first name, and I
just had a feeling that there was something different about him.
“But as I said,
no one seemed to know what went on in your private life. You managed to keep it
very private. But when I talked to Joe, he mentioned that you had recently
taken time off to be with a sick friend and that there were a few times when
Park Police had reported seeing you in the park late at night. I figured that
maybe this Vincent was the sick friend and you were meeting him in the park
somewhere. So I decided to take a stroll in the park late one night, and I all but
ran into a man in a cape. Actually, I almost stepped on him. He was lying in a
little patch of trees not far from a drainage culvert.
“I thought I’d
stumbled on a murder victim, and when I bent down to check for a pulse, I saw
his face, and it all fell into place. I knew this man had to be your Vincent. He
opened his eyes and realized he wasn’t alone, and he tried to cover his face. I
told him it was all right and asked him how I could help. He seemed surprised
but told me that he would appreciate it if I would help him get back on his
feet and get inside the culvert.
“I wound up helping
him quite a way in. We reached some pipes where he stopped and tapped on
them. I realized it was a message when I
recognized some Morse code. While we waited, we talked a little. He didn’t
question why I hadn’t seemed surprised at his appearance but seemed relieved
when I told him I was a detective and had been assigned your case. When help
arrived, I gave Vincent one of my cards, and then Kipper escorted me back to the
threshold and let me out.
“About a week
later, I was surprised when Vincent arrived on the roof of my loft. He’d seen a
headline in the newspaper that had said that the NYPD feared that you were dead.
He wanted me to know that he knew you were alive. He explained about the Bond
and how, as he’d recovered from his injuries over the previous few days, the
Bond had returned, and with it, he knew that you were alive but also that you
were very far away. He compared it to a time you’d taken a trip to LA. Only
this time, it felt like you were even farther away and to the east instead of
the west.”
“I’m so glad he
knows I’m alive,” Catherine said, clearly relieved.
“He knows, but
I think I am one of the few people who believe him. Father says that he’s
afraid it’s just wishful thinking. Everyone was pretty sure that you’d been
kidnapped by someone by the name of Gabriel, who was mentioned in a book you
left with Elliot Burch. But it was a well-known fact that this Gabriel was
ruthless. So it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that you were dead; that
it was just that no one had found a body yet.”
“I’ve got so
many questions.” Catherine interrupted.
“Ask,” Diana
told her.
“When you found
Vincent, how did he get injured?”
“There was an
explosion. He’d been meeting with Elliot Burch regularly…”
“He knows
Elliott?” Catherine was surprised.
“He and Burch
have been exchanging information since shortly after Burch’s people broke the
code in the book and handed it over to Joe. Vincent went to Burch to share some
information and to ask for help. They’d begun to meet on a boat that belonged
to Burch because it was easier and safer for Vincent to get to. Someone
obviously found out that they were meeting, and one night, when they were
there, it exploded. Burch thinks he was probably the target since he’d refused
to go along on some proposed business deals.
“They both
wound up in the water and managed to help each other to the shore. He said
Elliot offered him a ride wherever he needed to go, but he declined because he
hadn’t shared everything with Burch yet. He’d managed to get to where I found
him before he passed out.
“After that,
they no longer met but exchanged information in notes and letters. But that was
when things really started happening. Burch was one of the other people who
believed Vincent when he said he knew you were alive, and he stepped up his
efforts to find Gabriel. He figured if he found Gabriel, he’d find you.
“About six
weeks after you disappeared, there was an intruder in the tunnels. He was
heavily armed, killed a sentry, and threatened several others, and Vincent went
out to find him. He said that they were stalking each other. He found out the
man’s name. He called himself Snow. Vincent led him into the maze, and when the
man started shooting, there was a cave-in, and the man was buried. They dug him
out, but it was too late; he was dead. They dumped the body in the Abyss, but
not before Vincent removed some identifying items: a ring, a wallet, and some
papers. He gave all of those to me.
“I was able to
find out some information about the man. His real name was Raphael Volkov, and
his name was associated with Gabriel Volkov. We think that it is the Gabriel
who started all the mayhem. Raphael, or Snow, was his younger brother. But
since his body was dumped in the Abyss, no one knew he was dead.”
“Then, about a
month later, there was another intruder. This one was just as heavily armed as
Snow but seemed much less rational. He kept yelling that he wanted ‘the
creature,’ ‘the monster.’ Finally, Vincent went out to meet him.
“As soon as he
saw Vincent, he started shooting, and Vincent ran. Eventually, they got to the
bridge over the Abyss. Vincent was on one end of the bridge when the man
stopped in the middle. He started talking to Vincent. He told him his name was
Gabriel and that he knew that his brother was dead or maybe being held prisoner
somewhere in the caves. Then he started shooting again, but he wasn’t a very
good shot, or maybe just too irrational to realize what he was doing. Vincent
ducked behind some rocks, and the bullets were ricocheting all over the
chamber. Something, a bullet or a piece of rock, severed one of the ropes
holding the bridge, and the other wasn’t strong enough to hold, and it broke,
and Gabriel joined his brother in the Abyss.”
It took a
moment for all of it to sink in.
“Gabriel’s
dead? I can go home?” Catherine asked incredulously.
“Yep. No one
knows it. It’s not official, and no one will ever know it under the
circumstances. But since his disappearance, his people seem to think he just
bugged out on them and left them holding the bag. The ones arrested by the task
force that Maxwell put together have been offering to tell everything they know
in exchange for immunity or reduced sentences. Even a few who weren’t arrested
have been voluntarily coming forward. It’s been beautiful to see… and by the
way, the DA was one of the people in Gabriel’s book. Seems he’s been in Gabriel’s
pocket for almost two years.”
“I’ve got
something else to add to his list of charges,” Catherine told her.
“What’s that?”
asked Diana.
“Kidnapping. John
was the one who kidnapped me and had me sent to Gabriel.”
They talked a
little longer, and then Diana glanced at her watch.
“It’s getting
late. How’s the café across the street?”
“It’s good.
I’ve eaten there a few times,” Catherine told her.
“Why don’t we go
get some dinner, and we can make a plan while we eat.”
Catherine
agreed, and over dinner, they discussed what they would do.
“I’m leaving
here on Monday,” Diana told Catherine as she wrote her itinerary. “See if you
can get on the same flight, and we can travel together.”
“Are you going
to tell anyone that you found me?” Catherine asked.
“I’ll let Peter
know so he can tell Vincent, but I’m leaving the rest up to you.”
“Please ask
Peter not to tell anyone but Vincent. I’d like to keep it quiet for a while.
I’ll call my contact tonight and let him know and ask for a few things. I want
to be home for a while before I tell Joe I’m home.”
“So you’ll
start with Joe. Makes sense, start with the DA,” Diana agreed.
“DA?”
“Yeah, that was
something I didn’t mention. When Moreno was arrested, Maxwell was appointed the
Interim DA to fulfill the rest of Moreno’s term.”
Catherine
nodded. “It’s not how he wanted to get that job, but maybe he can prove himself
and get elected.”
“When I left,
he was still undecided about whether or not he was going to run, but he has the
backing of the mayor and the police department if he does,” Diana told her.
“And I assume you want a little time alone with Vincent,” she added.
“Yes, it would
be nice, but if we go Below, that won’t happen. He’s always in demand.”
Catherine called
Jay the following afternoon. It was the beginning of his day. She told him what
had happened and told him she was coming home. She also asked him to send her a
credit card and real passport as quickly as possible. She didn’t know how he
did it, but she received it two days later. She went to work booking her
flights and making her arrangements.
Margot was sad
to see her go but happy for her.
She and Diana
made arrangements to meet at the airport on Monday evening. Diana was surprised
that Catherine had only one small suitcase and a backpack.
Catherine
smiled and shrugged when Diana commented on it. “It’s not like I’ve been attending
fancy dinner balls,” she said. “I almost didn’t bother, but then I figured that
what I have might be useful Below.”
After they
picked up their boarding passes and checked their bags, they were heading for
their gate when Diana looked at her boarding pass.
“There’s been a
mistake,” she said to Catherine.
“What is it?” Catherine
asked.
“This is for
First Class. My ticket is supposed to be in coach.” She stopped and was about
to turn around and go back when Catherine grabbed her arm.
“No mistake,”
she told Diana. “I upgraded you. It was the only way I could get us seats
together, and don’t worry. I paid for it.”
“Cops aren’t
supposed to accept gratuities,” Diana stated.
“Not even from
victims who are grateful for their hard work?” Catherine grinned. “It’s OK. I know
the DA. I’ll make sure he’s okay with it.”
Diana started
walking again. “I’ve never flown First Class before,” she said, returning
Catherine’s smile.
A meal was
served about halfway through the eight-hour flight.
By the time
they were done, Diana was almost laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Catherine
asked, although she had a pretty good idea what it was.
“Now I know why you booked first
class,” Diana said with a grin. “The seats are like sitting in my dad’s
recliner; the service is better than most restaurants, and the food? Wow! Choice of appetizers, salads, main
courses that I could choose from chicken, fish, or beef, and a choice of two
different desserts, a different wine with each course. And even the coffee is
better than what they serve in the back.”
“It’s a long flight,”
Catherine pointed out. “I once flew from New York to LA on the city’s dime.
They booked me in coach, and that flight was half the length of this one. I
flew coach to Paris last summer so as not to draw attention to myself, and I swore I wouldn’t do that again.”
“I went to Ireland when
I was in college,” Diana told her. “But I think I had a milk run. I booked the
cheapest seat I could find, and we landed in Newfoundland and Iceland before we
made it to Dublin. I don’t think that flight even had a first class. And it was
the longest, most uncomfortable flight I’ve ever had. It was a little better
coming back. I flew from Dublin to Heathrow and had a non-stop flight out of
London because the airline I’d originally booked with had gone out of business
during the six weeks I was in Ireland. My dad found me a way home.”
Later, after dinner,
Diana was reading a book, and Catherine sat gazing out the window.
Do you know I’m coming
home, Vincent? she wondered.
Of course, you do. She smiled and sent a wave of love out over the ether,
hoping he’d sense it.
*****
Vincent had already
finished his breakfast when Father joined him.
Vincent was just taking
a note out of an envelope.
“Anything important?” Father
asked.
“A relayed message from
Peter. Pascal says that Peter said that Catherine will be home today. Her plane
is supposed to land just after 10pm.”
Father wasn’t surprised.
Vincent had told him Catherine was alive as soon as he’d gotten the first
message from Peter.
“I’m glad I was wrong,”
he told Vincent.
Vincent reached across
the table and put his hand over Father’s. “No more than I am, Father,” he
stated
*****
Catherine had a book open on the
tray table in front of her, but she hadn’t even looked at it in over an hour.
She was staring off into space when Diana spoke to her.
“Do you always sleep with your
eyes open?” she asked.
That made Catherine jump and then
laugh nervously.
“I guess I was off in la-la
land,” she conceded. She looked over at Diana. “Do you think he will be there?”
“I know he will be,” Diana
assured her.
“How?”
“I called Peter’s office before I
left the hotel and left a message. I told the receptionist my name and asked
her to let Dr. Alcott know that I was on my way home; my plane would land a
little after 10pm and that I was bringing a mutual friend. He will know to pass
that on to Vincent, but I doubt Vincent will need that. He probably knew the
instant the plane took off.”
“Thank you for that. I really do
hope he is there. I don’t want to have to go Below to him. If I do, we won’t
have a moment alone. I’d like to have him all to myself for at least a few
hours before I have to share him.”
“I know what you mean. I swear, his
chamber is as busy as Times Square on New Year’s Eve, sometimes. I used to try
to update him on your case at least every couple of weeks, and I preferred to
do it privately, but his chamber was far from private. We usually wound up at
the falls. I don’t know how he can stand it. I like my privacy; it would drive
me nuts.”
Catherine was agreeing with that
last statement when the announcement was made that they were on approach to JFK.
*****
Vincent stopped in Father’s study
on his way to Catherine’s.
“You’re on your way up?” Father
asked needlessy. Then he spotted the beat-up leather duffle Vincent was
carrying and raised an eyebrow. “You’re planning to stay?”
“You know as well as I do that Catherine
and I won’t get a moment alone if she comes Below,” Vincent said defensively. “I’d
like to have her to myself for a while before sharing her with everyone else.”
Father held up a hand. “I
understand,” he assured Vincent. “When can I expect you back?”
“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow
night,” Vincent answered.
*****
Catherine and Diana made it
through Customs quickly and were in the taxi on their way to Manhattan a little
more than an hour after landing.
“Will you come up?” Catherine
asked when the taxi pulled up to the curb.
“I thought you wanted to be alone
with him,” Diana said with a chuckle.
“I do, but I’m sure he would like
to see you and thank you,” Catherine told her.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Catherine said with a
grin. “As long as you don’t stay and chat.”
The women got out of the cab. The
doorman recognized Catherine and greeted her as if she’d only been gone a few
days. Diana left her bags in the lobby, and they headed to the elevators.
Vincent dropped to Catherine’s
balcony just as a taxi pulled away from the curb down on the street. He watched
as two women carrying luggage crossed the sidewalk and entered the building. He
knew one was Catherine; he assumed the other was Diana; it was hard to tell in
the dark.
He crossed the balcony and
dropped his bag. He tried the door to the living room. It was locked, as he had
expected. He knew that there was a loose brick that hid a key. It took a moment
to find it and extract the key.
*****
Catherine reached behind a framed
print on the wall outside her apartment. She pulled out a key and started to
unlock the door.
“Not very secure,” Diana
commented.
“I left it for Joe; he had a bad
habit of kicking in my door if I didn’t answer,” Catherine explained.
She pushed the door open and
stepped inside.
*****
Vincent crossed the threshold
into Catherine’s apartment at the same time he saw the front door start to
open. He watched as Catherine walked into the room.
*****
Catherine pushed open the door
and stepped into her apartment for the first time in months. She looked up, and
he was there. Just as she’d pictured him. Their eyes met, and he stepped toward
her and held out his arms. She dropped everything she was carrying and flew
across the room into his arms.
“I missed you so much!” he heard
her whisper as her arms went around his neck. His arms closed around her waist,
and he almost lifted her off the floor.
He looked up to see Diana
standing in the open door, smiling at them.
He nodded and mouthed the words,
“Thank you.”
She nodded back, shoved
Catherine’s abandoned luggage farther into the room, picked up the key she’d
dropped and put it on the table, then turned and left, closing the door behind
her.
Vincent watched as she did that
and didn’t move until the door closed. He hadn’t wanted an audience for his
next move, not even Diana.
He pushed Catherine far enough
away from him to see her face, then he bent and kissed her.
No comments:
Post a Comment