Blindside(24)

Alice said to Oscar, “Where are all your cameras located?”

He gave her a sly smile. The kind only computer-literate people give to people with less experience.

She cut her eyes to Janos. He immediately placed the barrel of the gun to Oscar’s temple. That straightened out his attitude.

He spoke quickly. “They cover all sorts of places. Security here in the building. I have one in the warehouse and at the front door just so I know what’s going on. The one in the shower is for my boyfriend, Hector.”

Alice said, “Why does Hector get special attention?”

“I make sure he showers alone. And I like to watch him shower.”

“Does he know about the camera?”

“No one knows about any of my cameras. As long as I let the landlord leave the door to the warehouse unlocked so the workers can eat on the roof occasionally, he doesn’t care what I do.”

Now Janos said, “Let’s get back to Jennifer Chang. Where can we find her?”

“There’s a coffeehouse. It’s up closer to Columbia. I think it’s on La Salle, a block east of Broadway. It’s called Brew. It’s a place a lot of programmers meet. Good Wi-Fi, good coffee. No one asks any questions.”

Alice asked, “How often does she go there?”

“Almost every day. Probably more often than she comes here. She’s got a guy she likes to see up that way. It’s nothing serious.” Oscar swiveled in the chair so he was only looking at Alice. It was like he was trying to blot out the reality that a Romanian holding a gun stood next to him.

Oscar regained a little of his confidence and said, “Is the job offer you have for Jennifer from a guy in Estonia named Henry?”

Alice hesitated. Finally she said, “What if it is?”

“She won’t be interested. At all. She told me all about the operation. She said Henry was starting to go crazy. He kept using them for bigger and bigger jobs. She didn’t want to be around when things went bad.”

Alice shrugged and said, “We still have to make the offer.”

That’s when she caught sight of someone on the security camera. He was tall and wearing a blue sport coat. He looked like a cop. She glared at Oscar and said, “Who’s that?”

Oscar turned and looked at the monitor. He hit a couple of buttons on his keyboard and other cameras picked up the feed. Now Alice and Janos could see the man from several different angles.

Oscar said, “I don’t know him, but this is the only place he could be coming.”

Alice put a finger to her lips to make sure he stayed quiet.

Janos placed the barrel of the gun to his head to be doubly sure.





CHAPTER 31


I FOUND THE building listed as Jennifer Chang’s residence on her Columbia University registration form. It was about where I thought it would be, south of Midtown. I was still skeptical about the address until I saw a residential door next to the administration offices for the warehouse. The offices were closed for the evening, but the residential door was open. I stepped into the dark entryway, then headed up the wood stairs. This was no-frills. There were wide glass windows that looked into the warehouse from the second floor. Years ago, the apartments here must’ve been some kind of offices. The housing shortage in Manhattan made crazy spaces into apartments.

It was the kind of building I used to show the kids when they were younger. The most interesting field trip we went on was at Ricky’s request, after we saw a documentary about how bean sprouts used in Chinese food are mostly grown in New York City. The bean sprouts’ seeds were just dumped in a big metal container that looked like a dumpster. Then watered. And a week or two later, you had full-grown bean sprouts. The other kids couldn’t believe I wanted them to spend their afternoon inside a dark, damp warehouse. You know what they say: you can’t please all the people all the time.

This building was just as interesting in its own way. I stopped to stare through one of the windows and saw that the warehouse was some sort of distribution point for caskets. I saw different manufacturers, Thacker and Astral. They all were stacked along a path to a loading dock, where a semi was already backed in. The door was open and the trailer was mostly loaded.

The place also reminded me of a girl I’d dated when I was in college. She lived above a mom-and-pop funeral home across the street from Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. I had to walk through the embalming area to get to the stairs to her apartment. I’d say the relationship “died,” but in reality, she killed it. She decided a finance major from NYU was a better prospect than a philosophy major from Manhattan College. Probably a smart move.

I walked along the hallway, looking for the door to Jennifer Chang’s apartment. It was a well-sealed door and very little light came from underneath. But a door was ajar across the hallway. I opened it fully and looked in for a minute. It was silent and empty inside.

I had nothing to lose, so I knocked on Jennifer Chang’s door. A good solid knock. Not a police knock. Not a boyfriend tap.

And I waited. It wasn’t as if I had a warrant. I just wanted to ask her a couple of questions about her missing friend. So I tried the doorknob. No cop alive wouldn’t test a door to see if it was open. It was natural curiosity.

Then I wondered if I should jimmy the lock. Who knows what I might find inside? An address book? No, I guess not. Everyone stores their numbers in a phone now.