thirty, dressed in a suit, popped his head in. “You need to come here, right now. You’re not going to believe this.”
CHAPTER 21
As Jack exited the subway tunnel onto the street, the bright sun temporarily blinding him, he became aware of something he hadn’t realized earlier. His senses had grown acute. His vision seemed more focused, colors more vibrant, he was cognizant of all of the sounds around him, not just the white noise of the city but also the subtle characteristics that made it city noise: car horns, a bus’s pneumatic hoses exhausting air as its doors opened, the chatter of pedestrians as they walked the street, hailed cabs, and sang off-key tunes with their iPod ear buds in. He could smell the Hudson just a few blocks away, the smell of exhaust, of street-cart souvlaki and warming pretzels. He could see the expressions in people’s faces, their happiness and pain, their lust and greed, as if their intentions were written on their skin. It was as if his body had just come out of a major tune-up that accentuated his very being.
Jack knew at once what was happening. While the accident had jarred his head, affecting his memory, these symptoms were unrelated to that. They were exactly what Dr. McCourt had said might occur and that when they did, he needed to get to the hospital right away.
But that was the last place he planned on going.
As they walked out through the subway tunnel, Frank demanded that Jack stay away from the Tombs to avoid risking anyone else seeing him. He took the north-side exit and headed off to grab the car, saying he would be back within ten minutes to pick him up.
On top of that, Frank had said it was time to get some real help. While it appeared that Mia’s kidnapping might be some inside job involving rogue members of the FBI, that didn’t mean that he and Frank didn’t have their own people they could trust. Jack wasn’t sure, though; beyond Frank and Joy, he trusted no one and wasn’t about to put Mia’s life in any further danger.
As Jack continued down the street, he flipped up his collar, tucked his head, stooped his shoulders forward, and disappeared inside the Friday crowd. He was glad he was in the city, where the true New Yorkers kept to themselves and paid little attention to their city brethren. Jack loved the urban jungle cliche. To an outsider, it was mysterious, alluring, and frightening, with unfamiliar creatures lying in wait to pounce on unsuspecting prey that strayed from the light. But to those familiar with its confines, it was wondrous and friendly, filled with magic and life.
Maintaining heightened caution, with his senses on overdrive, he soon realized that someone else was already watching him. Jack moved across the street, using the plate-glass windows of a Barnes amp; Noble to catch sight of the man’s reflection. He saw the large man fall into lockstep a block back.
Without a thought, Jack quickly ducked into a deli and took a seat in the back. There was no one there except two men behind the counter. He turned to watch the door. The wound in his shoulder suddenly felt as if it was on fire. The pain had been on and off throughout the morning but seemed to grow as the day went on.
“Hello, Jack.”
He was shocked to see the man who had been nearly a block behind him standing there; he was heavy-set, with a receding hairline. Jack didn’t know whether to run or strike, as he was trying to comprehend how the man was so quickly upon him.
“I’m not a threat, Jack. Please relax. I just need to talk to you.”
The man put his right hand up in supplication as he took a seat across from Jack.
“That wasn’t a smart thing, chasing that guy down.” The man’s voice was sympathetic as he admonished Jack like a longtime friend.
Jack continued to assess the man before him as friend or foe, thinking that either way, he might be able to help him move one step closer to Mia. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Mia’s.”
“Prove it.”
The man smiled. “Not an easy thing. I’m James Griffin, FBI forensics.”
“ID?”
Griffin shook his head. “Not on me.”
“Convenient.”
“Yeah, well, when I heard what happened, I rushed out to find you, spent the better part of the day looking. Been to your house, your office. I’ve been watching the Tombs for the last hour, figuring either you’d show up or the people who are after the case would make an appearance.”
Jack had heard of the man. Mia had spoken of Jimmy Griffin on occasion as one of those brilliant minds who should have been working in a think-tank or a pharmaceutical company, making ten times his FBI salary. She admired him for his passion and for not selling out like so many others.
“I know how scared she was of what was in that evidence case.” Griffin rubbed his left hand. “I know she said there was only one person she could trust with it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack lied. He wasn’t about to confirm anything.
“I was with her on Tuesday.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Where was that?”
“Room 1408 at the Waldorf. A murder investigation.”
Jack remained silent.
“The contents of the evidence box, the things that Mia so desperately wanted hidden away, are the belongings of a Cotis priest.”
Jack’s heart nearly stopped. He looked around the deli, no one there except the two men behind the counter, who paid Jack no mind. He glanced at his left forearm, realizing that everything was even more connected than he had imagined.
“Do you know what’s in the box?”
Jimmy nodded. “You get that box, they won’t dare hurt Mia.”
“Who’s they?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Not sure of the players, but Mia and I knew there were some of our fellow FBI guys in the mix. Don’t really know who or how many. But I can tell you this, get that box, and they will, without question, trade it for her.”
“What’s in the case?”
“I don’t know everything, but there’s a ceremonial jewel-encrusted dagger, some prayer beads, two prayer books with some interesting notes etched in them, and some images.”
“What kind of images?”
Griffin paused, again rubbing his left hand. “The scary kind, the kind that makes your blood run cold and makes you wish you could forget ever seeing.”
Three days earlier, on Tuesday afternoon, Jimmy Griffin had opened the rear door of the hotel suite and quickly ushered Mia in, closing and locking the door behind them.
The executive suites at the Waldorf were decorated to resemble a home, designed to impart a warmth and comfort not associated with travel. The sofas were plush and deep, the leather wingback chairs comfortable enough to sleep in. The separate bedrooms were more like those in a ski lodge, with large four-poster beds, piled high with thick earth-tone pillows and comforters.
Mia had received the call a half-hour earlier and had rushed uptown, telling no one where she was going, adhering exactly to Jimmy’s instructions. His words in that deep, resonant voice were brief and exact. “Room 1408. Waldorf. I’ve got a murder. I need to see you now. Tell no one.”
Mia glanced toward the second bedroom. The curtains were drawn, the darkness covering all details.
Jimmy abruptly shut the door. “You’ve got to see this first.”
He led Mia into an elegant bathroom, white marble, a Jacuzzi and sit-down shower. But the grandeur was
