No Man's Land

74

EIGHT STORIES TALL.

And she was perched right on top.

Of course.

Veronica Knox looked at her watch and then walked toward the building. She was dressed in a long black trench coat with the collar turned up. Her features were tight, her gut even tighter.

In the lobby she was searched and her gun and phone taken from her. She was escorted up in the elevator by an armed security guard. The elevator opened directly into the vestibule of Claire Jericho’s apartment.

The woman was waiting there for her. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit. She took off her glasses and rubbed away a smudge.

The guard went back down in the elevator, leaving the two women facing one another.

“I was surprised you wanted to meet,” said Jericho. She made no indication she was going to invite Knox into the apartment.

“Unfinished business,” replied Knox.

“Really? I’m aware of none.”

“Rogers has escaped.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“You could be in danger.”

Jericho smiled. “And, what, you came here to warn me because you’re concerned about my safety?”

“I’ve checked. You have a great many friends in high places.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been doing this a long time. You build relationships.”

“You’re getting away with murder, you know.”

Jericho looked disappointed. “If this was the purpose for the visit, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. And I have other things to do.”

“Did it hurt to lose your daughter?”

“Oh, you mean Helen?”

“Yes, Helen Myers,” Knox said tightly.

“I know what you want me to say. That it did hurt. That I miss her. That I’m grieving. But the truth is we didn’t really know each other. She was with her father most of her life, until he died, and then she came to me for help. And I did help. With setting her up in business. I feel like I was a good mentor to her. But that was really the sum total of our relationship. So, am I sorry she’s dead? Of course I am. Do I have the same level of grief as, say, your friend John Puller over losing his mother?” She shook her head. “The answer of course is and has to be no.” She paused. “And how are John and his brother doing? Are they holding up well?”

“You don’t have the right to ask that,” Knox said sharply.

“I was just being polite.”

“The unfinished business,” said Knox.

Jericho sighed resignedly. “You’re not going to shoot me. I know your weapon was taken. If you’re thinking of attacking me with your hands, please think again.” She drew a small pistol from her pocket and aimed it at Knox.

“That’s not my style,” said Knox. “It’s a bit amateurish, actually.”

Jericho smiled again. “Yes, of course. You and your group were so thoroughly professional in all that you did. Accomplishing what, exactly?”

“I also have friends in high places.”

“Yes, of course you do,” Jericho said patronizingly. “And I’m sure they look up from time to time and try to see my friends in higher places.”

“Do you remember Mack Taubman?”

Jericho pursed her lips. “Well?”

“He was a mentor of mine when I started out. Actually like a father to me. When I got involved in this case I went to him, questioned him about it. It was clear that he had some knowledge of what had happened back then, but he wouldn’t talk about it. He was scared. Scared, when he was the bravest man I knew.”

“And your point?” asked a clearly bored Jericho.

“He was found dead shortly after I met with him. They think it was suicide, but I know better. I think he contacted you. Maybe he finally wanted the truth to come out. Only you couldn’t allow that.”

“Oh, so now you have me involved in his death as well?” She laughed lightly. “Are there no horrors of which I’m not capable? And you speak of amateurism? Look in the mirror, Agent Knox.” She checked her watch. “Now, if there’s nothing else? I do have a country to keep safe.”

Knox stared at her for a few moments and then shook her head.

“No, that’s it. Thank you for meeting with me.”

Jericho gave a mock bow and pushed the button for the elevator. The car came up and Knox got on with the guard. She looked back at Jericho staring at her.

“I trust this will be the last time I will see you, Agent Knox.”

“I can guarantee it,” said Knox as the doors closed.

Jericho put the gun back in her pocket, turned, and went back into the apartment.

Thus she did not see the pair of hands emerge in the crevice of the elevator’s outer doors. The fingers gripped and pushed and the doors came open.

Paul Rogers climbed up into the vestibule. When Knox had gone up to the apartment he had ridden on top of the elevator car after getting into the shaft through an air duct opening. When the car had descended Rogers had already climbed onto one of the metal beams supporting the shaft and waited there.

He slipped across the vestibule and saw Jericho at her desk, her back to him. She was working on her laptop, some complicated bit of science that held her full attention.

She only looked up when the hands closed around her neck.

Down on the street Knox stood on the pavement looking up at the top floor of the building. The wind was picking up. As it whipped her hair she drew her coat collar up some more and put her hands in her pockets. Though it wasn’t possible, Knox thought she heard the snap of a spine eight stories up.

I told you I had friends in high places.

Like your apartment.

Her phone buzzed. She took it out and looked at the text.

Then Knox punched in the numbers and made the call.

“It’s done,” she said quietly.

“John can never know about this,” said the voice. “He’s not wired that way.”

“He will never know about this,” Knox said. “I can keep a secret.”

Knox put her phone away, turned, and walked off into the darkness.

On the other end of the finished call Robert Puller put the phone down on his desk.

He thought about the death of Claire Jericho, but only for a few moments.

Then he put it out of his mind and turned to work of importance.