Private Beijing

Chapter 10

Rafael was waiting for them in the terminal building at JFK. The lawyer looked haunted and exhausted, but forced a feeble smile as Justine, Mo-bot, and Sci approached him.

“I’m sorry to drag you over here, but with Jack out of the country I didn’t know what else to do,” Rafael said. There was a tremor in his voice. “Thanks for coming.”

Justine hadn’t heard or seen him like this before. He was normally so suave and confident.

“We’re not going to let this slide,” Sci replied. He’d spent the flight firing off emails to his New York Police Department contacts, asking for information on the investigation. “One of my buddies tells me the case has fallen on the desk of Detective Luiz Salazar out of the Twentieth Precinct. Says he’s a good man.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rafael replied. “We’re all pretty shaken by this. I’m not at the top of my game.”

His stubble and sweats spoke to that. Justine had never seen him out of a three-piece suit before and now here he was in gray sweatpants and a matching hooded top, looking as though he’d just stepped out of a grimy gym.

“We’d like to swing by the precinct and see what they’ve got,” Mo-bot told Rafael.

“You don’t want to freshen up? Shower? I got you some rooms at the Langham,” he said.

Mo-bot shook her head. “Every minute counts. We want to catch whoever did this.”

Justine remembered the Langham Hotel from her last time in New York. It was where she’d picked up that wonderful phone call from Jack in Afghanistan, a call that had yanked her out of a pit of sorrow and brought her back to life. The place where that had happened would always be special to her.

“I’d like to visit Jessie,” she said.

“She’s in an induced coma,” Rafael reminded her sadly. “She won’t be able to give you anything.”

“I’d still like to see her. Let her know we’re here for her. Even if she doesn’t respond.” Justine also hoped Jessie might by now be showing the first signs of recovery and could even give them a clue.

Rafael nodded with no show of enthusiasm. “We can drop off Mo and Sci on our way. My vehicle is in the garage across the street.”

He led them outside the terminal to the multi-story opposite, and a few minutes later they were in his white BMW X5, overnight bags loaded in the trunk, speeding through the airport complex.

It took a little over ninety minutes to reach the city, and they fought late-afternoon traffic all the way. Sci and Mo-bot were in the back. Sci was lost to his phone, and Mo-bot had her laptop open and was tapping away intently. Justine envied people who could read and write in transit. She felt a little queasy just looking at Mo-bot.

While the other two worked, Justine had tried striking up a couple of conversations with Rafael, but they’d quickly died out. It was clear grief and anxiety had taken hold and trapped him with his thoughts. They spent most of the journey in silence, Justine taking in the sights as they made slow progress to West 82nd Street.

Manhattan was an island with heart and soul. It had taken both to muster the energy and ingenuity needed to build the canyons and peaks here that rivalled anything the natural world had to offer. Huge monuments to industry towered over the city, casting it in shade, reaching for the heavens, embodiments of human ambition.

Rafael parked outside a building that looked like a concrete bunker, next to a line of NYPD patrol vehicles.

“We’ll leave our bags with you,” Sci said, and Rafael nodded.

“Stay in touch,” Mo-bot advised Justine.

“Will do.”

Mo-bot and Sci jumped out and headed for the main entrance. Rafael pulled away and drove along 82nd Street. They joined Columbus Avenue heading south and drove downtown to Mount Sinai, a huge redbrick hospital that occupied most of 59th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues. Rafael parked nearby and they walked toward the hospital.

He stayed silent and seemed to grow more and more distressed as they neared the building. This had to be difficult for him. As Private New York’s lawyer, he had almost daily contact with Jessie and the two of them were friends.

“She’ll be okay,” Justine said, touching his shoulder.

“I hope so,” he replied. “I can’t bear to think about what happened to them.”

They went inside, got directions from a receptionist, and navigated the soulless corridors and monochrome wings to reach Jessie’s room a few minutes later. A nurse showed them in before leaving to give them some privacy.

Justine approached Jessie’s bed, shocked to see the state of her colleague. Purple shadows surrounded Jessie’s sunken eyes, and her lips were an icy tint of blue. She was hooked up to monitors and drips, giving no sign that she knew she had visitors.

Justine took her hand, which was cold and clammy.

“Jessie, it’s Justine. I hope you can hear me. I want you to focus on getting better. We’ve got this.”

Justine was surprised to find herself growing emotional. This could have happened to any of them. It could have been her in that bed, or Jack, or Rafael. Jessie didn’t deserve this any more than they did. Like the rest of the Private team, she’d only ever tried to do good.

“We’re going to find the person who did this,” Justine assured her colleague. She looked at Rafael and saw his eyes were full to brimming. He nodded at her emphatically. “We’re going to find them and bring them to justice.”