Into the Fire(108)

“I do have a lot of money,” Evan said.

He thought of the meeting minutes from Stella Hardwick’s power summits in her conference room on the seventh floor. And then of Tommy tripping over gear and ordnance in his lair.

“I need one more thing,” he said.

“Shocking,” Tommy said.

Evan told him the last item he required.

“Fine,” Tommy said. “Let me get less fucking annoyed before I draw you up an invoice. If I did it now, you wouldn’t like what you’d be looking at.”

He shouldered the door open, braced his ankles and knees for the slide out, and hit the dirt with a grunt.

“Tommy,” Evan said. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Well, shit,” Tommy said. “It’s getting so saccharine in here I might hafta self-administer insulin.”

He slammed the door and ambled over to Evan’s truck.





57



Taking Steps





Evan had lost track of how long he’d gone without sleep.

Walking through the Castle Heights lobby, he felt faintly intoxicated, his feet like foreign objects he had to operate with every step.

Ida Rosenbaum, with the aid of a walker and a physical therapist, moved at a snail’s pace around the love seats, working on regaining her balance. The bruises on her face had faded to a sickly yellow. She wore a brick-red sweat suit with reflective stripes down the sleeves and legs, high-visibility precautions in case any traffic came blazing through the lobby.

“It’s good to see you up on your feet again,” Evan said.

“If that’s what you call this,” Ida snapped.

The physical therapist, a young Hispanic woman, said, “Would you mind watching her for a moment so I can use the restroom?”

“I don’t need watching,” Ida said.

Evan wanted nothing more than to get upstairs and lie down, but he paused and rested a steadying hand on the walker. “No problem.”

An awkward silence ensued after the woman departed.

“I heard you got your necklace back,” Evan said.

“I did. And they arrested the crook who took it.”

“But you’re not wearing it.”

“No.” Ida waved a dismissive hand. “I’m done with that nonsense. Acting like I’m something to look at.” She shook her head. “At my age.”

“Don’t give him that.”

“Oh, please.” She shoved the walker at him, the tennis-ball sliders squeaking on the marble floor, and he had to skip back. Firming her shoulders with pride, she took a surprisingly strong step. “Spare me your bumper-sticker aphorisms.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. To have real concerns.”

“No, ma’am.”

The physical therapist returned, thanked Evan, and took over. As he walked away, he heard her say, “You’re really improving, Mrs. Rosenbaum.”

“Sure,” Ida said. “I’ll be ready for the hundred-yard dash in no time.”



* * *



Evan had just closed the penthouse door behind him when his phone rang. He clicked to answer and held it to his face.

Joey said, “Hang on,” with great annoyance, as if he’d called and interrupted her. A rustle as she slid the phone aside and then muffled shouting. “Get off that! You chew my Das Keyboard one more time, I’ll get you fixed.”

“He’s already fixed,” Evan said, heading down the hall toward the master suite. The nausea was back, creeping beneath his skin, turning his flesh clammy.

“Well, I bet it’s just as unpleasant the second time,” Joey said. And then, “I spent all morning scrubbing the jail footage, which would’ve been way easier if you weren’t so incompetent.”

The sheets remained, a dirty swirl atop the floating mattress, fuzzed with dog hair. He had to squint against the sight of it.

He stepped through the bathroom and into the shower stall. “How am I incompetent?”

“Where do I start? I told you in advance where the cameras were.”

“I thought I avoided them pretty well.”

“Perhaps by your low standards.”

His hand swiped at the hot-water lever and missed. He reached for it again. A quick turn and he was through into the Vault. “I was busy trying to not get killed.”

“You should be used to that by now.”

“Fair enough,” Evan said, dropping into his chair with relief. His jaw started watering, a warning signal.

“Have you been resting?”

“Sure.”

“How’s the concussion?” Joey asked.

Evan hit MUTE, slid over the trash can, and threw up into it violently enough to strain his intercostals. He wiped his mouth, unmuted the phone. “Okay,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. “You sound fresh as a daisy.”

He gripped the edge of the table to try to stop the room from spinning. Vera II looked on with moral support.

“I just wanted you to know you’re free to retire now. Your tracks are completely covered. Once again I swing to your rescue. You’re such a damsel in distress. I mean, if I hadn’t found the hidden files on Grant’s thumb drive, you’d still be—”