'Have you thought over our offer to meet? We would like to meet the day after tomorrow at six in the evening.'
'I said I would call. Have I called?'
'We would like some assurance that you will be there.'
'Or what?'
'We will need to do business with someone else. You will miss out. We'll wait for you at six.' The man hung up.
Michael was weary of people telling him what to do, of being followed, of having bodyguards, of being the bait It did not feel as if he were a free man. It was troubling that these unknown, undefined people knew his comings and goings even down to the restaurant selected by the publishing house. Notwithstanding the fancy law firm, he was suspi cious of their intent, and their identity. Greed was a powerful force, and he wasn't sure he trusted people motivated by greed more than those, like Sam, motivated by emotion or revenge.
Michael didn't want to be part of any plot but one of his own making. It was as simple as that.
He thought about the proposed meeting time: 6:00 p.m. It seemed a little late in the day. Or was it? He considered call ing Grady. He was less inclined to call Sam because he wanted to keep his options open. Although he had resolved himself to helping catch Gaudet, he wasn't sure he wanted to do everything else on Sam's agenda. This was not the Amazon and the rules were different. Still, he didn't want to change to fit somebody else's rules. For years he had made it in the jungle by himself and he had decided he would con tinue to live his life pretty much in that fashion. Talking with Grady, on the other hand… After a few thoughtful mo ments he decided the situation made a perfect excuse to see her.
At that moment his phone rang. When he answered, it was Richard Lyman.
'A Dr. Raval called. He was very secretive and mysteri ous. He asked if I thought you could meet him in Manhattan. I didn't know what to say, but I said I thought you could. Of course I didn't tell him that you are already there. He says he could meet you on any of the next three evenings at five at the Christopher Street subway station for the one or nine train. It's the side of the station that serves trains coming from lower Manhattan-from the area of the financial district. If you want to meet him there, he says he will explain through Rebecca. He says send a message through Rebecca or otherwise to confirm. I didn't understand the 'or otherwise,' but he said you would.'
After reassuring his friend that everything was okay, Michael hung up. He noticed that his heart was pounding.
Michael called Rebecca.
'I need a confidential favor. Very confidential.'
'Of course you have it. There is more intrigue in your lit tle finger than in my whole life. Please don't think me gauche if I tell you it's really fun.'
'I need you to write another e-mail.'
'Okay. Shoot.'
'Send an e-mail to macaquemania at hotmail. com.'
Will meet tomorrow as per your last. I will be with a blond young woman. She is a safe friend. There will also be bodyguards. But we will talk in private, and when I approach, I will leave all others behind. Perhaps you have ideas on how and where to meet. Anyplace in Manhattan is good for me.
Rebecca sent the e-mail and within ten minutes was back on the phone with a response.
I will be at the Christopher Street subway station by the newsstand near the entrance at 5:00 P.M. wear ing a long coat with a white carnation. You watch from Starbucks. When you see me, come to the doorway of Starbucks and pause just outside. Put on your gloves. If I remove the carnation from my lapel, then follow me. I will go to the doorway of a large apartment building. You follow. Leave all other persons at least one hundred feet distant. You and I will go inside the building for privacy. Once we are inside, your body guards may wait anywhere outside the building. If you see anyone suspicious or strange who looks like they might have an interest in our business, walk back to the Lutheran church. Go inside and sit in a pew. If you don't hear from me in twenty minutes leave and I will contact you again. Stay safe. I believe we are both in the gravest danger.
'I think you should call the police,' Rebecca remarked.
'No. He's only a scientist. I already have people who can call the police.'
'He doesn't sound like a scientist. And he says you are in the gravest danger.'
'He's right, Rebecca. You've done enough for me now. Thank you for your help. Really.'
'Of course. But-'
'Rebecca, where could I go that would allow me to return to the Christopher Street station that he describes?'
'You're not going to listen to me, are you?'
'I have bodyguards. I have people who know the police. It's all taken care of.'
'Well, if you're sure.' She sighed, obviously thinking it over. 'You're staying in Greenwich Village, I take it.'
'Yes.'
'You could go down to Wall Street, lower Manhattan.'
'Why would I go there?'
'Oh, an excuse. I get it. Uhm, well, you're an explorer, a National Geographic-type guy. Abercrombie and Fitch has a store down there at the South Street Seaport shopping mall.'
'Has everybody heard of Abercrombie and Fitch?'
'Most people.'
'What do they sell?'
'They used to sell things for jungle expeditions. You could be excused for thinking they still do.'
'You are a smart woman, Rebecca. Thanks again. I really appreciate it.'
'Don't thank me. Just try to stay alive.'
Grady met Michael knowing she looked a little the worse for wear. For a split second she wondered if she regretted her decision to go home and figure out her life. Unfortunately, Michael Bowden would believe that she was going her sepa rate way and the situation would feel like rejection. Men were that way.
'You look good in that.' He smiled and gave a bit of a lopsided grin.
She wore a fancy pair of blue jeans, a braided belt, and a dark floral-print blouse.
'Then again,' he said, 'I don't recall ever seeing you in anything that looked bad.'
In the foyer she put on her flak jacket under a heavy parka.
They took a cab to Pete's Tavern, and although she wanted to take his arm or give him some other physical signal of reassurance, she forbade herself.
'You don't look so happy,' he said.
'I'm going to miss you,' she answered.
They sat in a rickety bench seat with an old varnished table. The bar was crowded. It seemed the place was full of people who knew each other, people who shared little pieces of their lives in this neighborhood. Even though there were millions of people in Manhattan, somehow the people in this spot managed to have a sense of community.
'There is something I need to tell you,' Michael said.
He told her the story of the encounter with the lawyer in the restaurant.
When he finished, she tapped the table. She knew the veins at the base of her neck would be standing out as her face reddened.
'I can't believe you didn't tell me this.'
'Well, don't get mad. I'm telling you now.'
'You could get killed or kidnapped. You're practically a national treasure and I like you.'
'Okay, well, I'm still here.'
'Good. Let's keep it that way.'
'But I've got to do my business.' He tilted his head and smiled a little.
'You accepted protection from Sam and the governments who hire him. You're supposed to let us keep you alive. Don't forget that. And besides, is it all right if I care what happens to you?'
'You have a boyfriend. Responsibilities. I look out for myself. Always have.'
