She called out and rushed over to the car. She could see someone sitting in the back, hands in their lap. She got to the window and knocked against it and stooped to speak to Evans inside, but instead of Evans it was a tall, bearded gentleman in a bowler. He stared at her, astonished.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly. She stood and stepped away.
“What’s the matter, Miss Fairbanks?” asked Wilford.
“What happened to Mr. Evans?” she asked him.
“Mr. Evans?”
“Yes, Willie. You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes, a day or two ago. Can’t say what happened to him, ma’am,” he said. “Drove him down to the central cradle two days ago, on his orders.”
“To board a ship?” she asked.
“He didn’t say, ma’am.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much,” he said. “Nothing at all. Just sat there. Looking out the window. He might have caught a ship, I suppose.” Then Wilford frowned and said, “He shook my hand.”
“He what?”
“He shook my hand. He’d never done that before. Said I was a good driver, which was odd, too. He never does such things.”
Samantha nodded and said softly, “What you love doesn’t love you.”
“Pardon, ma’am?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Goodbye, Willie. Have a nice day.”
“Won’t be hard,” he said, returning to polishing. “Sun’s out. Seems like the first time in years.”
“Yes,” she said, and walked away.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Samantha was not sure where to go. Her apartment was watched, she knew that, and though she couldn’t imagine what McNaughton would want with her now, she knew it didn’t trust her and would take whatever measures it felt necessary. Garvey was being watched as well, that was almost certain. So she was not very surprised to find herself returning to Hayes’s little safe house off the Wering Canal.
She opened the door with the little pearl key and walked in and sat on the bed. She very much wanted to lie down and rest and forget everything.
“Where have you been?” said a voice.
She jumped and looked around and found Hayes sitting calmly behind the door, hands in his lap. The top of his brow was frogskin-white with scar tissue but his eyes were steady.
“Where was I? Where were you?” she demanded.
“Out working,” he said.
“Working? On what?”
“On the case, of course.” He seemed irritated with the question.
“The case?” she said, furious. “The case? There isn’t any case!”
“Certainly there is.”
“No, there isn’t! Not anymore! We’ve all been sacked, you damn fool! Haven’t you realized?”
“Sacked? What? When?”
“Just now! Just when I went to go see Brightly!”
“Why did you go see Brightly?” he asked, mystified.
“God. You really have no idea, do you.” She sat down on the bed and pulled up an old newspaper from the floor and threw it at him. It tumbled into his arms like a wounded duck. “Go on, then,” she said. “Read.”
Hayes opened up the newspaper. It did not take long, as the story was on the front page and all the other stories seemed to be about it. Soon the look of confusion melted out of his face to be replaced with one of aching weariness. He shut his eyes and held his brow with one hand.
“Oh, Sam,” he said. “Sam, Sam. You didn’t need to do that.”
“Do what? Help Donald? Of course I had to. You knew what I was out to do.”
“Oh, I knew that. I knew you would never let him be thrown to the dogs. But you should have waited. You should have left it up to me, Sam.”
“To you!” she said. “To you, who got us all into this mess? Who got poor Mr. Evans fired, not to mention myself? Who disappears without a word? To you? Good God, Mr. Hayes, why on Earth would I leave anything of importance in the hands of a man like you?”
Hayes took a breath. He seemed to be steeling himself. “It’s a question of leverage,” he said.
“Of leverage?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
He blinked, startled. “Well, you used everything you had to get Garvey off,” he said. “And they took you for it, and Evans. But I think I can get us something more, Sam. Something bigger.”
She slowly sat back down on the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure yet. But something stinks about all this. And I think I can find out what.”
“Stinks about what? About what happened to Donald?”
“No. About what we saw and heard down there in the tunnels.”
Samantha frowned at him. “What do you mean? Are you talking about… about blackmail?”
He shrugged.
“Blackmailing who? The unions?”
“No. McNaughton, Sam.”
“McNaughton?” she said, confused. “With what? And how would blackmailing McNaughton help Donald?”
“I can’t say yet. As I said, I’m not sure. But if my hunch is right then this isn’t over yet. We can still set things aright. But I need something from you, Sam.”
She laughed hollowly. “What more could you need? After all this?”
“Just something little. Something small.” He leaned forward, eyes skirting the floor of the room as he thought. “When you did your research at McNaughton, there was a Records floor, the nineteenth floor, right? You spent a lot of time there, yes?”
“Well. Yes.”
“And they let you have access to budgetary files, didn’t they?”
“Yes, of course they did.”
“All right. And somewhere in there was the budget for Local Securities. There was a room for it, probably, a separate room. Big and black, locked down tight. Wasn’t there?”
“Yes. They made sure never to tell me about it, but I saw it there, yes.”
“And you had the key,” he said desperately. “A light key. Tell me they gave it to you, Sam.”
“But why-”
“Never mind why. Just please, tell me they trusted you with that.”
“Yes, they did. The key they gave me opened any door on the filing floor, but I never used it for Local Securities. Someone said if I tried to access those files then they ask you about it immediately. They have some sort of logging system for the keys, I have no idea how it works.”
“That doesn’t matter. Where’s the key?”
“It’s in my apartment. In Newton. It’s being watched, though.”
“I know it’s being watched, I swung by there and saw them. But you’re sure? You’re sure it’s there, Sam?”
“I’m sure. I keep all my keys and important file work in my desk.”
“Which desk?”
