he’d also learned Wu had been transferred from the ER to the intensive care unit. Even better, he’d been told Wu was coming out of the coma. He wasn’t yet lucid, but they felt he might be soon.
Soon would be now.
Gideon had come prepared with a beautifully wrought plan of social engineering. He’d talk to Wu, posing as Roger Marion, and get everything out of the scientist — the location of the plans, the meaning of the numbers, everything. He had gone over his plan in detail and felt at least ninety percent certain it would work. He very much doubted Wu had ever met or seen “Roger,” only talked to him on the phone, and Gideon, after his visit, at least had an idea of how the man talked and sounded. Wu would be disoriented, off his guard. The man would have been too devastated at the accident scene to have taken note of his features. He could pull this off. Despite being shot at, despite his dunking in the river, it would be by far the easiest hundred thousand he’d ever earned.
The busy duty nurse didn’t even bother to check his ID against his face, just directed them both to a large and comfortable waiting area. Gideon glanced around but saw no one he recognized. Yet he was certain the one who had chased him would not be far behind.
“The doctor will be down to see you in a moment,” the nurse told him.
“We can’t just go visit Mark?”
“No.”
“But they said he was much better.”
“You’ll have to wait for the doctor,” said the nurse firmly.
The doctor arrived a few minutes later, a portly man with woolly white hair and a sad, friendly look on his face. “Mr. Crew?”
Gideon leapt up. “Yes, Doctor, that’s me. How is he?”
“And the lady is—?”
“A friend. She’s here to support me.”
“Very well,” he said. “Please come with me.”
They followed the doctor into another, smaller waiting room, more like an office, empty of people. The doctor closed the door behind them.
“Mr. Crew, I’m very, very sorry to tell you that Mr. Wu passed away about half an hour ago.”
Gideon stood thunderstruck.
“I’m very, very sorry.”
“You didn’t call me — to be there at the end.”
“We tried to reach you at the number you gave us.”
“Mr. Wu gave signs of stabilizing, and we had hopes for a while. But he was severely injured, and sepsis set in. This is not uncommon with severe injuries. We took every possible measure and did the best we could, but it wasn’t nearly enough.”
Gideon swallowed. He felt Orchid’s comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I have here some paperwork, unfortunately necessary, which you as next of kin will need to fill out regarding the disposition of the remains and some other details.” He proffered a manila packet to Gideon. “You don’t need to do this right away, but we would like to know as soon as possible. In three days, Mr. Wu’s remains will be moved to the city morgue to await your instructions. Would you like me to arrange for you to see the body?”
“Um, no, no, that won’t be necessary.” Gideon took the folder. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for all your help.”
The doctor nodded.
“By any chance…did Mark say anything before he passed? When I talked to the nurse this morning, she said she thought he was becoming lucid. If he said anything, anything at all, even if it seemed nonsensical, I’d like to know.”
“He showed signs of regaining lucidity, but it never actually rose to the level of consciousness. He said nothing. And then the sepsis set in.” He looked at Gideon. “I’m terribly sorry. For what it’s worth, he didn’t suffer at all.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
The doctor nodded and left.
Gideon threw himself into a chair. Orchid sat down next to him, her face creased with concern. He reached into his pocket, removed a sheaf of bills, and handed them to her. “This is for you. When we leave the hospital, we’ll get in a cab together, but after a while I’ll get out of the cab while you continue on to wherever you want to go.”
She didn’t take the money.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “I really appreciated it.”
“Creighton, or Crew, or whatever your name is, I can guess this isn’t really about some Method acting gig. You’re a nice guy, and it’s been a long time since I met any nice guys. Whatever you’re doing, I want to help.” She pressed his hand.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Thanks, but I’ve got to do this alone.” He knew how lame that sounded even as he said it.
“But…will I see you again? I don’t care about the money.”
Gideon glanced at her and was shocked at the look he saw on her face.
He thought about lying, but decided the truth was ultimately less painful. “No. I’m not going to call you. Look, the money’s yours. You earned it.” He gave the bills an impatient shake.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I want you to call me.”
“Look,” said Gideon as coldly as he could. “This was a business arrangement, and you did your job well. Just take the money and go.”
She reached out, snatched the money. “You’re an asshole.” She turned to leave and he tried not to notice she was crying.
“Good-bye,” he said, cringing inwardly.
“Good-bye, jerk-off.”
27
Gideon Crew strolled up Fifth Avenue and entered Central Park at the 102nd Street gate. He felt absolutely awful. It was early evening, and the joggers were out in force. He couldn’t get Orchid’s lovesick look out of his head. And now that Wu was dead — and his assignment had crashed and burned — he found himself replaying Glinn again and again in his mind, pulling out the medical file with a sorrowful look on his face.
“Yo” came the abrasive voice after an inordinate number of rings.
“Gideon here. What news?”
“Jeez, you told me I’d have twenty-four hours.”
“Well?”
“Well, the credit card and passport are just that. No hidden data. The cell phone’s the same. It’s a brand- new SIM card phone, probably just purchased.”
“Damn.”
“All that’s left on it are the contacts you already got, a few recent calls — and that’s it. No other hidden
