“Do you have a real-time feed of the signal? Intensities and all that? You set this up for that bastard Masters. You think you can track the signal through the pylons?”
“You know quite a bit for a cop. Yeah, I can try …” A flurry of keystrokes changed the screen: lines upon lines of numbers showed values for devices I couldn’t even fathom as they tried to track down the cause of the flood. “Wow, yeah. Looks like something is bouncing through the towers. Pylons in Chelsea and the Lower East Side are on fire.”
“Where’s it coming from?”
“No idea … they’re both huge neighbourhoods. We don’t have that kind of capability to track where these signals go or come from, but we know it’s focusing in both those places.”
“Fuck.” I rubbed the back of my neck. Still, it was better than nothing. “Masters made one mistake: he brought this right to your doorstep. At least we know two places where the source might be … time to narrow it down.”
I called to Allen and we exited the room as the engineers continued troubleshooting. The secretary sighed with relief and escorted us back toward the main foyer.
Our two hours were almost up.
Chelsea and the Lower East Side were both massive locations, and the inaccuracy of the pylons didn’t help much. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Masters had been at the crime scene, had had access to the terminal that the technician had been blackmailed through, and was leading this year’s precinct inspections. He was up to something in conjunction with this smuggling ring, but I needed solid evidence before I went accusing an FBI agent of racketeering and murder. But why was some FBI agent running a smuggling operation that was cutting in on the Iron Hands’ action? And why kill two cops and get my attention? Anyone with two brain cells to rub together would know that might cause a small turf war.
And why involve my old partner? Why use some beat-up old Swinger as a hit man? Unless Masters knew who I was. Those machines in the graveyard had targeted me, not Toby. What if all this was for me?
When we reached the foyer, the secretary scanned the access card once more and handed it back to me. “Fifteen minutes left. You don’t dally, Mr. Roche.”
“Detective, you mean.”
Allen hit the button for the elevator. I turned to look out the window at the back of the elevator, seeing the sun shining down on the Upper City’s many buildings. No one in the Lower City ever got to see this — such a waste. I knew I should be soaking it in. Who knew when I’d see the sun high in the sky over Manhattan again.
In the corner of my eye, I noticed a Green-eye staring at me. This one didn’t look like it was worrying about the windows; it seemed awake. While Allen was watching the doors to the elevator, the Green-eye approached, reaching inside its janitorial jumpsuit. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Its eyes blinked red for a moment.
Then it pulled out a slip of paper. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“She’s expecting you,” the Green-eye said quietly, handing me the paper. Its voice sounded alien compared to Allen’s. Then it backed up and resumed its duties.
The slip of paper bore an address. Apparently, she wanted updates and was in no mood to wait.
How would I ditch Allen so I could go and meet her? It would be suspicious to do so right after this. Then again, if I didn’t, she might use Allen as an example of why I should be more prompt the next time.
“I have to go meet with Toby. Make sure Jaeger is all right,” I said. Allen was still watching the elevator doors. “You good?”
“Yes. I just wanted to say I was impressed with your theorizing back there with Dr. Bush.”
“Thank you, Allen.”
“Might I accompany you to see Toby and Jaeger?”
“No.” Shit, I said that too quick. “No, I have other business to attend to, and I’d rather we split up and cover more ground.”
“But I have nothing to do without you, Detective.”
This machine is going to be the death of me. “Fine … fine. Let’s just get out of here.”
The elevator opened, and we stepped inside. Turning around, we saw that the secretary was standing there, waiting to see us off. She smiled and waved. “Please take your time coming back, Detective.”
As the doors began to close, she relaxed into a scowl just a little too early. Moments later, the small box rocketed downward, trapping us under the thumb of the Plate once more.
CHAPTER 13
I WAS GOING TO SEE A BIT MORE SUN before the day was over. I parked the Talbot on the southern side of 98th street and got out, leaning against the car and craning my neck. I was so used to seeing the great steel slab of the American Dream hanging over us that I rarely ever looked up. This little trip to Harlem was much more relaxing than my previous escapade there had been, so I christened the calm moment by lighting a dart in my filthy fingers.
I could’ve stayed there just looking up. Harlem might have been dangerous at any time of day, but sometimes it was much more tranquil than the city I’d learned to love and hate.
“Detective, what are we waiting for?” Allen was getting impatient in the passenger seat, its eyes shifting back and forth nervously. It’d never been out from under the Plate.
“A signal. I’m choosy about how I meet my friends, so I often go out of the way to set up meetings in places I trust.”
Allen fell silent, watching the street through the broken window.
My attention was suddenly drawn by the
