But there was another side to the thing. Suppose Mendoza had paid Clury to kill his wife? How much money could Clury have gotten? Fifty thousand? A hundred? Not nearly enough to run away on, not nearly enough to take himself to a new life. So, maybe what Clury had said was partly true: Perhaps he was, as he claimed, a burned-out cop who decided one day to walk.
Still, Janek knew, he hadn't walked without money. So, where had he gotten it, if not from Mendoza and Janet's widow's pension? Dakin had said that Cury was dirty, that he hadn't been dealing but had been a double agent. What if Clury had stolen from the group he'd penetrated?
Not the kind of chicken feed Timmy had taken off Keniston, but real money, the kind big-time drug dealers keep lying around-a million, maybe even two? Then his dropout walkout made some sense. And whatever he got to kill Mendoza would have been a little extra cream on top of all that milk.
Yeah, Janek decided, it must have been something like that. What he couldn't decide, however, was which of the two men was most evil: Howard Clury with his bombs and hands-on homicides, or Jake Mendoza with his money and hired killers.
When Clury finally did call early on Thursday, a few minutes after midnight, Janek was about to fall asleep. He groped for the phone beside his bed.
'Yeah?'
'It, s me.' Clury's voice sounded less harsh than before. 'I'm ready to meet.'
Janek thought he heard a note of resignation, as if Clury had been chewing on his options and concluded that none of them was good.
'Glad to hear it,' Janek said. 'How's tomorrow morning? My office is in the old Property building in the Village.'
'No, you don't get it. I'm calling from Newark.'
Janek rolled over, then sat up, awake. Suddenly his heart began to pound.
'What're you doing there?'
'I'm talking on my cellular from the hall of mirrors. You know the one.
Your girlfriend's with me. You've got an hour to get your butt over here. The door'll be unlocked. if you don't show by one-fifteen, I'll blow her and the whole place up.' A pause. 'Oh, yeah, just to show you I'm not bulishitting, here she is to say hello.'
'Frank! '
Clury cut her off: 'That's enough. Get back on the floor.'
Jesus! Janek strained to hear the skirmish: Gelsey's protest, then the sound of a slap followed by a cry. It was the first time she'd ever called him Frank. He knew he was ready to kill for her.
'Frisky little thing, ain't she?' Clury chuckled. 'Maybe too hot and young for an old-timer like you.'
'If You-'
'Yeah, yeah, if I harm a fair hair on her fair head you'll personally cut off my balls. Something like that, right? Now listen good. You wanted a meeting. You're about to get one. So cut the crap and get over here. And don't even think about bringing someone with you. See, I've turned your girlfriend into a walking bomb and it won't take much to make me set her off.'
Trying to stay calm, knowing that only if he did would he be able to deal with this terrifying threat, Janek dressed quickly, then triple-armed himself, securing two seven-shot Beretta pistols, one to each ankle, then strapping on his shoulder-holstered Glock. He stuck his tape recorder into his pocket and hurried down to the street.
There was no time to borrow Aaron's car, so he stood on Broadway trying desperately to flag down a cab. Several passed. Maybe he looked too crazy waving his arms in the wind, with bits of refuse clinging to his shoes. -. a taxi stopped. Janek stuck his head in the front window, flashed his shield.
'Want to make two hundred bucks?'
'Da, yah.' The cabby grinned. He was one of the new Russian drivers struggling to learn the city and the language. Janek got into the front.
The cab was a heap, it squeaked and shook, its shocks were shot and the passenger seat had busted springs. None of that mattered. What mattered was getting to Newark before Clury's patience ran out.
'Da, Jersey. First I go Newark Airport, yah?'
The driver, Valyenkov, wanted to practice his English, so Janek nodded, pretending to listen to his chatter even as he tried to work out some kind of plan.
Clury, it was clear, had followed him to Gelsey's, most likely even before his Sunday call. He may even have followed him the same night Timmy did, and, distracted by Timmy's inept tail job, Janek hadn't noticed. At this point, he knew, the how didn't matter. What counted was the why. What was Clury after? What was he planning? Capturing Gelsey, turning her into a bomb, then exploiting her jeopardy to compel a middle-of-the-night meeting in the maze-what could he possibly hope to gain?
'Newark tough town.' Valyenkov grinned. 'Many car crooks, yah?'
'Yeah, lots of crooks.'
Ahead he could see the glow of the airport and the flares that demarcated the bum-off towers at the petroleum storage farms. He could smell their pungent fumes and the marsh gas coming off the Meadowlands and the stink of soot and chemical waste.
I should never have sent in Aaron to frighten Janet. I should have known that would set Clury off. I should have had Sue watch her, no matter how long, until Janet gave Clury away. I was stupid. I couldn't wait, even though the case had been going on nine fucking years. Had to push it.
Didn't have the patience. Now I got a mad-dog bomber to deal with and a girl I love who'll get blown to bits if I screw things up.
'Good food. No?' Valyenkov pointed to a diner. Trucks were parked in front.
'Yeah, good food.'
He looked around. They were driving by the burn-off towers. The looming steel skeleton frames and huge gas storage cylinders dwarfed everything.
So, what does Clury want? What if he doesn't want anything? What if he just wants to kill me? Maybe Stoney was right: Put a bomber in a corner, he'll throw a bomb. Clury' hates me. He's had three days to figure out that no matter what he does I'm going to take him down. So, if he's going down, why not take me with him? And, since he thinks Gelsey's my girlfriend, why not inflict extra punishment by killing her first before my eyes.
'I've been fucking stupid!'
Valyenkov turned. 'I am stupid? Why you say?' 'Me, not you,' Janek explained.
'Oh, okay, I understand… So, why the mirror maze? Why does he want to meet there? Maybe he likes it because of what a bomb'll do to all that heavy glass.
His problem was that, since he had no idea of what to expect, he would be forced to improvise. Angry as he was at himself for leading Clury to Gelsey, he knew he would not be able to save her life if he went in burdened with guilt.
It was 1: 10 A.M. when he got out in front of her building, paid off Valyenkov and sent him on his way. The wind was fierce, carrying smells of autumn leaves and rust. He stepped back to look up at Gelsey's loft.
For a moment he thought about entering through her trapdoor. If he could get onto the catwalks, he'd be able to see exactly where Clury stood.
He rejected the idea. Too risky. Clury might hear him, might even have forced Gelsey to take him in that way. Anyway, even if he saw them from above, he would never be able to find them easily on the floor. The maze was too confusing. As soon as he entered it he'd be lost. Getsey was the only one who understood it. If he could just manage to separate her from Clury, she might be able to find a place to hide.
He decided to obey Clury's orders, enter the maze through the front. And if he's up on the catwalks, he can watch me stumble through.
He pulled open the front door. The gleaming tunnel embraced him. He shut the door, cutting off the wind.
It was not difficult to make his way through the Corridor of Distortion.
Its mirrors, each one different with a unique capacity to deform, were meant less to baffle than amuse.
But Janek did not stop to smile at the images of fat Janek, thin Janek, Janek-as-pair-of-legs, Janek-as- hourglass. Rather, he hastened to the Chamber of Unobtainable Ecstasy, hoping he would see Clury and Gelsey in
