The World Beneath

Chapter 34

Vivian passed the shoe-shine boxes where she’d tussled with that kid six months ago. On the last day that Tesla had gone outside. A black man in a dark blazer stood where she had sat Tesla down while she subdued the attacker. The man held a wooden brush and a rag, about to shine the brown leather shoes of a businessman in a navy blue suit. The businessman stuck his foot out and opened his paper.

Tesla’s face stared at her from the front page. That man was in more trouble now than he’d been the night she met him. She’d read the article and didn’t envy him his notoriety. He couldn’t catch a break. Maybe once she delivered him to Mr. Rossi, they could start rebuilding his reputation and persuade the police to search for the real killer.

Maybe they’d already gone after Ozan Saddiq. She hadn’t dared to ask Dirk about it, needing to keep herself, and by extension Tesla, out of it.

A man at the top of the stairs held open the heavy front door for her, and she gave him a quick smile before stepping through and into the terminal building. Warmth enveloped her as soon as she got a few steps from the door, reminding her how cold it was outside on the streets tonight. She hoped that Tesla had a warm place to hole up.

Then she began her sweep of the station. It took over an hour to hurry through each open shop, making sure that Tesla wasn’t hiding in a fitting room trying on pants or picking through produce at the marketplace or waiting for a latte at Starbucks. In fact, she got in line at Starbucks to get herself a plain coffee, eyes scanning the other patrons for a tired-looking software engineer and his dog. Nothing.

She took her coffee and headed back toward the main concourse. Her feet were sore, and she was tired. She’d seen no sign of Tesla. What she had seen, between commuters, were police and government agents — in uniform and undercover. They loitered in the food court, waited on the balconies, patrolled the entrance to each set of platforms, and stood by the passageway to the Hyatt, near the elevators.

If Tesla showed his face here now, they’d nab him in a minute. And she still had no good plan for getting him out of the tunnels with such an interested audience. She had a vague idea that she could persuade him to hike to a subway station, a place far from here that wasn’t watched, then either persuade him to take the drugs or inject him and get him on a train. She’d brought along gin to pour on his clothes, so it would look like she was walking a drunk guy out to a cab. She had experience maneuvering a drunken Tesla.

Then what? Three men had died suspiciously in the area — the man beaten to death underground, a cop who had fallen or been pushed in front of a train, and a young tennis instructor knifed out front. If you believed the news, and Vivian usually didn’t, Tesla was responsible for them all. Mr. Rossi had his work cut out for him.

She walked up the stairs to the west balcony, cradling the warm coffee cup in her hands. It smelled like early mornings and breakfast, but instead of that she was experiencing an evening of futility.

The Apple Store was closed, but she managed to catch an employee in an Apple shirt while she was locking up.

“Vivian Torres.” She flashed her badge. She’d bought it online. As long as she didn’t say that she was a police officer, she wasn’t technically breaking the law.

The red-haired girl gave her a skeptical look. Her name tag said Ginger.

“I was wondering if you’d seen a man in your store today.”

“I saw lots of them.” Ginger pocketed her keys and pulled on an orange parka that clashed with her hair.

“This guy would have had a dog with him, a yellow Lab.”

Ginger fiddled with an iPhone. It looked like she was selecting music to play. “Why?”

Because if I find him I might be able to save his ass, Vivian thought. She had to think up a story that would make sense to someone who might know Tesla and his dog. “He comes around here a lot, practically lives at Grand Central.”

Ginger’s finger hovered over a title on the phone. Vivian wanted to slap her to get her attention. “Don’t know him.”

“He might have come in today to use the Wi-Fi.”

She gestured to the empty space in front of the store. “Lots of folks do. It’s not a crime. We offer it for free.”

“I don’t want him for a crime,” Vivian said. “I want to help him.”

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” The girl dropped the phone in her pocket and turned up her collar. “Can I go now?”

Vivian couldn’t hold her. And she still had no idea if Tesla and Edison had stopped by. Even if they had, they were clearly gone now.

Coffee cup in hand, Vivian stood at the edge of the balcony and watched the people ebb and flow in the main hall, always looking for a man with a dog. Had the police followed up on her calls to the tip line? The press had not reported on the identity of Ronald Raines. Maybe Tesla was wrong. Maybe the police didn’t believe the connection. Maybe they hadn’t released that information to the press. Too many maybes. But Mr. Rossi wouldn’t let that information go to waste. He’d figure out the best way to work it.

Tesla had to come up for air sometime. He’d need food, information, money, and Wi-Fi. Tesla didn’t strike her as a regular computer nerd — he had a difficult past. She’d read that in his eyes and his body language. Whoever was messing with him was going to get more than they’d bargained for. Hopefully, that grit would be enough to carry him through.

She threw away her empty cup. She only had one place left to try in the terminal: Platform 36.

After that she’d head down to Tesla’s house, assuming that she was still on the approved-visitors list, and wait there. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d come back home. If he did, she wanted to be there if they caught him, to help if she could. At the very least, she might be able to keep him from being shot. She could notify Mr. Rossi the second he was in custody and spike him with the drug if he panicked. Because if they caught him, he would be cornered, he would be scared, and he would be unpredictable.