“You should not go alone,” Kusum said.
“It will be easier on my own.”
She looked unconvinced.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will meet up with you by this evening. No later than eight, okay?”
She stared into his eyes for a second, then nodded. “Eight.”
Sanjay gave her a reassuring smile, and turned for the door.
“Wait,” she said. She disappeared into the other room. When she returned, she was holding a mobile phone. “Take it. Father has one, too. His is the first number listed.”
“Thanks,” he said.
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Come back to me,” she whispered.
17
A total of fourteen suspicious shipping containers had been discovered within the five boroughs of New York City. The NYPD and FDNY had moved in quickly and cordoned off the areas surrounding the boxes. At first, the off-limits zones stretched for only a couple of blocks, but after news of boxes exploding elsewhere, they were increased to eight square blocks.
Unfortunately, there was not enough manpower to watch every inch of the boundaries around the restricted areas and continue basic services to the rest of the city. So unmonitored sections were unavoidable.
Joey Chin saw this as an opportunity.
Near the middle of the evacuated area was the building where Walter Natz lived. Joey had been trying to figure out how to get into Natz’s place for weeks. While the guy was often away on business, his building had a doorman, at least ten roaming security guards at all times, and cameras on every floor, meaning any kind of incursion was next to impossible.
Until the evacuation, Joey had been unable to work up any viable options, and, understandably, his client was getting antsy. Four weeks and no visible progress had a way of doing that. The documents the man needed were inside a safe in Natz’s home office. Joey knew he could get into the safe, no problem. It was getting to the apartment that was the challenge.
Until the evacuation order a few hours earlier. Officials had made it very clear there were no exceptions for anyone, security staff included. Best of all, Joey had found a vulnerable point in the boundary to the off-limits zone.
He had watched it for over an hour just to be sure, then simply walked across the darkened street, picked the lock on the door to a dry cleaner, and let himself in. As expected, the place had an alarm, but he quickly disabled it, and made his way through the building and out the back door.
From there, it was just a matter of working his way through the streets without being spotted by the helicopters that occasionally flew over the area. That was a piece of cake.
When he reached the block where Natz’s building was, he gave it a thorough scan to make sure no one had secretly stayed behind. As expected, it looked deserted.
Of course, there were still the cameras, but those he could deal with.
He went around to the alley behind Natz’s building, disabled the single camera covering the back entrance, and busted one of the low windows meant to allow light into the basement level. He knew the building’s alarm system utilized touch plates at all doors and windows, but not the more sophisticated motion sensor that would detect a window breaking. He had identified that as a weak point right at the start, but the problem had always been the guards. The information he’d been able to obtain indicated one guard was always in the basement, which meant he would probably hear any breaking glass.
Not today.
Joey made his way to the utility room that controlled the power to the building. He had no intentions of killing all the power; that would make his job difficult. He was only interested in the power supply dedicated to the security system. The actual box was unmarked, designed to look like it was part of the larger electrical system. There were even dummy wires running from it to the main boxes. It was a good camouflage job. Someone not quite as experiened as Joey would have continued looking elsewhere. Joey, though, had studied the true plans, the ones most people would never be able to get their hands on. That was part of the skill set he brought to any project — his contacts and ability to get whatever he needed.
Cover off, wires cut, job done. The offsite monitoring facility would wonder what was going on, but what could they do? It wasn’t like they could send in cars full of security men. And even if they called the police, the NYPD had its hands full at the moment and would probably just hang up on them.
He headed for the elevator.
There were grander buildings in New York for sure, skyscrapers that allowed residents to live in the clouds. Natz’s building was not nearly as tall as those. While he lived in one of the penthouse apartments, it only put him nine floors from the street.
Once Joey got there, he wasted no time opening Natz’s door. As soon as he was inside, he glanced at the alarm and noted, with satisfaction, that the display screen was dead.
The only surprise was how warm the apartment felt. He went over to the thermostat and saw that it was set at seventy-eight degrees. He considered turning it down, but needed to limit his impact on the place so that his visit would remain undiscovered.
The door to the home office was closed, but not locked. The room was even warmer than the rest of the place. He guessed it had to be at least eighty-five degrees, if not hotter. While it had been only annoying at first, the temperature was now a problem. The last thing he needed was for any sweat to drip from his face to the wood floor, leaving a potential DNA sample that could be traced.
He looked around for another thermostat, but there was none in the room. Since the building was only nine floors high, the windows could actually be opened. He stepped over to the nearest one, flipped the latch, and pushed it out.
As he was bringing his hand back inside, something wet landed just above his lip. He wiped it off with his fingers, and glanced out the window, thinking it might be starting to rain. But he could see no clouds.
What he could see were several sets of bright lights illuminating a small lot two blocks away. He couldn’t see all the way down to the ground from where he was, but he knew the lights had to mark the shipping container that was the reason he’d been able to get into the building.
Another drop of water blew in from outside, striking him on the bridge of his nose. Perhaps the clouds were above the building, just out of sight. If so, he hoped any storm they might bring would hold off until he was done.
Turning back to the room, he set to work.
Everything went as smoothly as he expected. An hour and a half later, he was back in the hotel room, the desired files in hand. At midnight, he would hand his client the prize.
But that wouldn’t be the only thing he’d pass on.
Martina Gable hadn’t intended to go to the party, but her friends Noreen and Jilly wouldn’t take no for an answer, and had made her come along.
As she knew would happen, she ended up hanging in the back of the room, nursing a Coke and thinking about Ben. She liked how they just kind of got each other right from the beginning. The problem was, he went to school up in the Bay Area, and she was stuck down in L.A., limiting the time they were able to spend together.
Eventually Noreen and Jilly found her again, then a few of their old friends from their high school softball team joined them. At first it was the standard tell-us-what-you’ve-been-doing type of conversation, but it didn’t take long before talk turned to the events that had dominated the news that day — the mysterious shipping containers.