a building under construction, not so high as to be called a true skyscraper, but with enough storeys to be imposing. There was all the activity of an anthill, in the swinging of cranes and the bustle of men with their coloured hard hats on the scaffolding.
Russell looked around. ‘It’s a recurring number. Everything seems to be happening on this street.’
‘What do you mean?’
He gestured to a point behind her. ‘We’re on 23rd street. Sparrow’s body was found on this street, only further east.’
Vivien would have liked to reply that in her work that kind of synchronicity was much more common than in the plots of movies. Most investigations stood or fell by the whims of fate and the thoughtlessness of human beings.
They parked the Volvo in front of the site. A worker wearing a yellow hard hat turned to them and protested, ‘Hey, you can’t park here.’
Vivien approached and flashed her shield. ‘I’m looking for Mr Newborn. Chuck Newborn.’
The worker pointed to a sheet-metal hut on the left-hand side of the building, near a large embossed terrace on the third floor. ‘You’ll find him in his office.’
Vivien led Russell towards the temporary white-painted construction. The door was open. They climbed the steps and found themselves in a room that was bare except for a desk and a chair. Two men were bent over the desk, studying a plan.
One of the two looked up. ‘Can I do something for you?’
Vivien approached the desk. ‘Mr Chuck Newborn?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
He was a tall, bulky man in his early thirties, with sparse hair and clear eyes and the hands of someone who never shirks away from heavy work. He was wearing a worker’s reflecting jacket over a denim jacket.
Vivien flashed her shield again. ‘I’m Detective Light, 13th Precinct. This is Russell Wade. Can we talk to you for a moment?’
The man looked both puzzled and slightly alarmed. ‘Sure.’
Vivien decided to underline the nature of the interview. ‘Alone.’
Chuck Newborn turned to his companion, a thin, indolent-looking man. ‘Tom, go check that concrete.’
Aware of being superfluous, the man called Tom picked up his hard hat and left without a word. Vivien was sure he considered her and Russell only a glitch in his day’s work. Newborn folded the plan and stood waiting on the other side of the desk.
Vivien came straight to the point. ‘Have you been working for Newborn Brothers for a long time?’
‘Since I was a boy. My father and my uncle started the business, and I started working here when I was eighteen. My cousin arrived straight after college. He’s in charge of administration. Now the old guys have retired and the two of us run the business.’
‘Were you around when Major Mistnick’s house on Long Island was built?’
In Chuck Newborn’s mind alarm bells must have gone off. He didn’t have to search long and hard in his memory to know what the detective was talking about. ‘Yes. A weird business. A year later-’
‘-the house blew up.’
The man raised his hands. ‘There was an investigation. The police questioned us. We were cleared of any wrongdoing.’
‘I know, Mr Newborn. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’d just like to ask you a few questions concerning that period.’
She gave Newborn a few moments to calm down before continuing with her questioning. ‘Do you remember if a man named Mitch Sparrow worked on that site?’
‘The name sounds familiar, but I can’t put a face to it.’
Vivien showed him the photograph she had been given by Carmen Montesa. Even before the man spoke, the expression on his face made it clear that his memory had been jogged.
‘Oh, him. Of course. He was a good guy. Crazy about bikes, but a good worker.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
He shrugged. ‘In those days, Newborn Brothers wasn’t how it is now. We dealt mostly with renovations and small buildings. We didn’t have so many workers. They were great days, and I remember them well.’
The man made no mention of his former worker’s disappearance. Vivien suspected he didn’t know about it. She preferred not to add a new element to the interview for the moment.
‘As far as you were aware, did Sparrow have any particular friends, anyone he spent a lot of time with?’
‘No. He was a quiet guy. He’d finish work and go straight home to his wife and son. They were all he ever talked about.’
‘Did anything strange happen on the site? As far as you can remember, any particular episodes, any people that attracted your attention?’
‘No, not that I recall.’ Then he gave a half-smile. ‘Apart from the Phantom of the Site.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There was this one guy with scars all over his face and hands. A real monster. Everyone thought they were burns.’
At these words, others words appeared in the minds of Russell and Vivien.
Newborn lowered his head and looked at his hands, embarrassed perhaps by what he was about to say. ‘You know how cruel you can be when you’re young. My cousin and I used to call him the Phantom of the Site, like the Phantom of the Opera.’
‘Do you remember his name?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Do you have copies of the pay slips?’
‘This was almost twenty years ago. We aren’t required to keep records all that time.’
Vivien assumed the most reassuring tone she could muster. ‘Mr Newborn, I’m not with the IRS. I’m here for an extremely important reason. Any detail can be crucial, even the most insignificant.’
Chuck Newborn decided to come clean. ‘In those days, to keep costs down, we used to hire workers off the books. It wouldn’t be possible now – the company’s too big for that kind of thing. But in those days we were forced to do it to survive. These guys I’m talking about were paid in cash, no questions asked, no paperwork.’
‘Do you remember any other details about this man?’
‘My father talked about him one evening at dinner. He’d just showed up and offered his services, for a price my father and uncle liked a lot. Plus, he was really good. As they were standing there talking the guy calculated, just by looking, how much iron and concrete was needed for the foundations.’
‘And did he ever work for you again?’
‘No. Immediately after we finished the Mistnick house he left.’
Vivien was worried she was going too fast. She granted Newborn, who had been getting increasingly nervous as the conversation proceeded, a moment’s pause.
‘And what can you tell me about the accident?’ she next asked.
‘One night the house just exploded, killing the major and all his family. Or to be more precise, it imploded. Just crumpled in on itself. There was hardly any damage to the surrounding houses.’
Vivien looked at Russell. Both of them had thought the same thing. The man had shown the same fiendish skill in calculating the quantity of explosives to plant and how to set them off as he had earlier
