She laughed. 'No, they got some college kid. And I think he only lasted about a month.'
Hutch looked around and spotted a surveillance camera in a far, high corner of the lobby, a tiny red light signaling that it was recording them at that very moment.
He turned to Cynthia. 'How far back do your surveillance tapes go?'
She looked puzzled, then glanced at the camera and said, 'Oh, right, I always forget it's there.' She thought about it. 'I think everything's recorded straight to a hard drive, so it probably goes back at least a year.'
'Any chance you could get us a copy from that day? I just want to confirm he's our guy.'
'And get myself fired? I don't think so.'
Hutch gave her the smile. 'Cindy to the rescue, remember? This would mean a lot to me.'
She flushed again, but shook her head. 'I don't know…'
'You have a pen and paper?'
She opened a drawer and fished around in it until she found a notepad, then gave it to Hutch along with a pen.
He wrote on the top sheet, then tore it off, folded it and handed it to her. 'This is my private cell phone number. I'm trusting you not to give it out to anyone. If there's any way you can get that video clip, call me and I'll pick it up.'
Matt leaned toward her now. 'And if you're worried about downloading the file to a disk, just play it on the monitor and record it with your phone. Then you can text it straight to Hutch and nobody'll be the wiser.'
'Why do you want it?' she asked. 'Who is this guy?'
'He's what the police call a person of interest. I can't tell you any more than that.'
She looked doubtful. 'They keep that computer in a locked room and I think only Ms. Weeks has the key. And even if I could get in, it would take me a while to find the part you want. I'm not even sure what day it was.'
'You look pretty resourceful to me,' Hutch said. 'But no pressure. If you can't, you can't. I don't want you to lose your job. But if you can…' He reached forward and squeezed the hand holding the folded sheet of paper, acutely aware that
— 40 -
Hutch was less than a block from the courthouse when they hijacked him.
He and Matt had parted ways outside the law office building, both buoyed by their conversation with Cindy. Matt had decided that his next stop was the scene of the crime, where he hoped to question some of the residents of the neighboring apartment building to see if Langer had been spotted there, as well.
Hutch had decided to hoof it back to the courthouse, wanting to walk off the taco lunch and prepare himself for the afternoon session. He was used to sitting around a lot-life on a sound stage was seventy percent waiting-but in the months during his recovery he had begun exercising a lot, trying to purge the toxins from his body.
Since returning to Chicago, however, he'd been slacking off, and it felt good to stretch his muscles. He had just crossed onto California Avenue when a dark sedan pulled to the curb in front of him and two men in suits emerged, stepping onto the sidewalk.
He was about to veer around them when one of them stepped sideways and blocked his path. 'Good afternoon, Mr. Hutchinson.'
Hutch stopped short, looking them over. They weren't reporters, or paparazzi, and he didn't get a cop vibe from them. If anything, they reminded him of the ex-mercenaries the studio had hired to handle security on that miserable shoot in France. Humorless and hard-muscled.
Hutch tried to remain cool. 'What can I do for you gentlemen? Autographs?'
Not even a hint of a smile. 'Get in the car, please. Someone wants to talk to you.'
Hutch nearly laughed. This was like a scene straight out of Code Two-Seven. 'You're kidding me, right?'
But he could see by their eyes that they weren't. And one of them proved it by opening his coat to give him a glimpse of a shoulder holster and gun.
Hutch's face must have shown his alarm, because the other one said, 'Nobody wants to hurt you, Mr. Hutchinson. This is merely a request for a private conversation.'
'With who?'
'The man we work for.'
'Really?' Hutch said. He didn't even trying to hide the sarcasm. 'I'm glad you told me that, because I don't think I could've figured it out on my-'
A hand reached over and gripped his elbow. 'Get in the car, Mr. Hutchinson. We don't have much time before court convenes.'
The grip was just firm enough to let him know that this wasn't the time or place to argue about it.
Hutch smiled and got in the car.
Several minutes later they pulled into the underground parking lot of a sleek glass building located about ten blocks north of the courthouse. They found a space, got out of the sedan, then rode the elevator to the top floor.
Hutch tried to tell himself that he had nothing to worry about, that this was merely another adventure he could use as inspiration for his work-assuming he ever bothered to go
But the moment the elevator doors slid open, he relaxed, knowing exactly who had summoned him for this little confab.
The apartment beyond was one that even a rich man would drool over-which, technically speaking, included Hutch. It featured a bank of bay windows overlooking the city, furniture as sleek and modern as the building they occupied, and even-get this-an indoor lap pool.
That pool was currently occupied by a tall man taking long, luxurious strokes through the clear blue water, his body fairly taut and well-muscled for a guy in his early sixties. When he finished the lap, he stopped, stood up in the water and slicked back his white hair.
As Hutch stepped into the room, his captors giving him space, the man said, 'Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ethan.'
Hutch stiffened at the sound of his given name. Of the people he knew, only Jenny and his parents had called him that and he resented hearing it come out of this guy's mouth.
But he was all too happy to give back. 'No problem, Nate.'
Nathaniel Keating bristled, studying him with vaguely hostile eyes. Eyes that had never bothered to look in his direction during the last week and a half in court. Had never once acknowledged his presence, not even at the funeral four months ago, despite the fact that the two men had something in common-their love of Jenny.
So why the acknowledgement now?
As Keating climbed out of the pool, an attractive Filipina in sweats appeared out of nowhere and handed him a towel, saying, 'Five minutes.'
Keating nodded, began patting himself dry and looked again at Hutch. 'Nice of Judge O'Donnell to extend the lunch hour, wasn't it? After your friend's attorney decimated that idiot cop on the stand, I was in desperate need of a workout. Hopefully things will go better this afternoon.'
'What do you want, Keating?'
He smiled. 'I want what everyone wants. What I assume you would want. Justice for my little girl. The girl you supposedly once loved, remember?'
Hutch sighed. 'Is this gonna be one of those exercises where you take forever to get to the point? Because I'd just as soon be back in the courthouse right now.'
'As would I,' Keating said. 'But, you see, I got a disturbing phone call a short while ago. About you and one of your college friends trying to stir up trouble at my daughter's law firm.'
