The Key

chapter thirty-four

S unday morning felt like spring, as if March had skipped over April and gone straight to May. A gentle breeze wafted a strand of hair across my face as I got out of the cab. After several rigorous shampooings, my hair was back to its original dark red, and while I’d declared the results of my adventures in alternative hair color inconclusive-the Madonna wig left me with sincere doubts as to just how much more fun blondes had, and my experience as a brunette had been too action-packed to offer a valid basis for comparison-it was nice to once again recognize my image in mirrors and other reflective surfaces.

The streets of Chinatown were thronged with honking cars, and the sidewalks were thronged with pedestrians. I wondered who had decreed that dim sum was a good idea for brunch. I was as fond of dumplings as the next person, but to me brunch just wasn’t brunch without Hollandaise and hash browns. Still, when Jake had suggested dim sum it seemed appropriate to feign enthusiasm, so here I was at the corner of Bowery and Canal Street, trying my best to ignore the animal carcasses hanging in the shop windows. As a general rule, the less my food resembled actual living beings the more appealing I found it.

“Stop rubbing your ear like that,” said a voice in my ear.

I jumped but managed not to shriek. Being wired was new to me, and I’d temporarily forgotten that Ben was watching from the control center disguised as a delivery van parked nearby.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he added.

I stopped rubbing at my ear, even though the tiny transmitter planted within itched. Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets and scanned the scene around me. The knowledge that so many eyes were watching made me feel fidgety, and because they were watching it seemed extra important not to fidget but to maintain an air of cool composure. Peter, especially, had been less than sanguine about Ben’s plan to entrap Jake using me as bait, but I’d assured him I’d be fine with Ben and the colleagues he’d rounded up maintaining constant surveillance. Technically, this was still an offthe-books operation, as the powers that be seemed happy to blame Andrew Marcus for everything, but Ben had convinced a couple of his co-workers to help him out.

Of course, if we were going to entrap Jake, we also needed him to show up, and he seemed to be running late. I removed a hand from my pocket in order to check my watch. “It’s ten past twelve,” said Ben’s voice in my ear. I returned my hand to my pocket and resumed trying not to fidget.

A few more minutes passed before Ben spoke again. “Is that him? On the southwest corner? About to cross Canal?”

I checked out the southwest corner, squinting against the bright sunlight, but I saw nobody who even resembled Jake.

“Rachel, that’s the southeast corner. Look to your right.”

I could tell right from left, at least. This time my gaze landed on Jake, standing on the opposite corner and waiting for the light to change. He saw me and waved. In his weekend wear he blended right in with the tourists, smiling broadly beneath the rim of a blue baseball cap. I really didn’t understand the appeal hats held for men who weren’t losing their hair, but I’d have to get to the bottom of that on another day.

I plastered an equally broad smile on my own face as he loped across the street.

“Hey, there,” he said warmly, as if he hadn’t tried to kill me a few short days ago, and I submitted to a hug as if I didn’t find it infuriating that he thought I was too stupid to realize that he’d tried to kill me. “You hungry?” he asked over the din of traffic.

I nodded. “Always.”

“Good, me, too.” I saw his eyes glance down at my hands, no doubt looking for my engagement ring. I’d left it off on purpose, thinking that if I could manage to flirt even a little bit I’d be more likely to puff up his ego while simultaneously loosening his tongue. And it was probably my imagination, but his smile seemed to take on a more cocky aspect once he’d ascertained the ring’s absence. “There’s a place I really like a block or so up Bowery. It’s sort of a tourist trap, but the food is awesome.”

“Awesome,” I echoed. “What’s it called?”

“The Golden Panda or Buddha’s Garden or something like that. I can never keep these places straight.”

“You don’t know its name?”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” he said with confidence.

That was all well and good for Jake, but I would have preferred to be able to give Ben and his surveillance team a bit more to go on.

“So it’s north of Canal on Bowery,” I said, striving to sound as if I always liked to state my destination in casual conversation. Jake put a hand on my back as we turned up the street, and I tried not to think about cooties. It would be hard to entrap him if I let my hostility show. I needed to ease things along gently if I were going to get him to reveal the critical details proving that he and Annabel had carried out the attack on Dahlia.

“So what about that Mark Anders?” he said, his tone all jovial collegiality. “That was crazy, wasn’t it?”

“Crazy,” I agreed.

“I still can’t get over what went down yesterday. And the way you tackled the guy-impressive stuff.”

“It was nothing,” I said, even though the places I’d landed were still sore. I could only imagine how poor Ben must feel.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I played football in high school,” I said.

“Really? Oh, you’re being sarcastic. Got it. Anyhow, it was awesome.” He moved his hand from my back to drape his arm casually over my shoulders. I had to force myself not to slap it away.

Jake continued on in this vein for another block, and I tried to keep up my end of the conversation while simultaneously sidestepping tourists and narrating our whereabouts. If you didn’t know better, you would have mistaken us for just another couple in search of brunch on a lazy weekend day.

Then Jake’s grip suddenly tightened around my shoulders.

Without warning, he pulled me into a small opening between two buildings, jerking my head roughly to one side.

“What are you do-” I started to ask.

But he clamped his hand over my mouth.

“Listen up,” he said, propelling me along the narrow alley. His voice had completely lost its jovial tone. “Here’s the deal. We’re going for a little trip. And I really don’t want to have to do anything that would leave any marks or bruises on you, so I suggest you cooperate.”

Since he now had me in a headlock, I didn’t really have much choice in the matter. I couldn’t even open my mouth wide enough to bite at his hand, which was probably just as well given my concern about cooties. I did manage a sharp elbow to his ribs, but the only effect it had was to make Jake tighten the noose his arm had formed around my neck. I may not have been on the football team, but it definitely felt like Jake had put in some time on the wrestling squad.

The alley opened up into a small back lot, empty except for a Dumpster and a black Range Rover with tinted windows. A thin wisp of smoke trailed from its exhaust pipe.

The door to the back seat opened, and Jake shoved me inside.

“No-” I started to yell as soon as he’d removed his hand from my mouth.

But before I could get much noise out, another hand descended. An enormous diamond on the ring finger caught the light, confirming that the hand belonged to Annabel Gallagher just before she pressed a damp cloth over my face.

I smelled something both chemical and sweet.

And then I smelled nothing at all.