Unacceptable Risk sw-2 Read online

  Yodo stepped away obviously at Michael's insistence. Both men appeared intense, concentrating on their conversation. They had been talking for at least a couple of minutes.

  It was out of the corner of his eye that Sam caught the most interesting action. An old man in the waiting area folded his newspaper and rose. By the way he folded the paper, two ends to the middle and then again, and placed it under his arm, and the way he rose and his bearing as he stood, Sam knew him by heart. There was a great tendency for spooks to do as Sam had done and to go the Santa Claus route. Add fat, age, hair, and a hat. Voila.

  By the time Michael returned to the table, they were ready for more Amazon stories.

  "Let me get you something else," Rebecca said. "How about some salmon?"

  "Sounds delicious, but I have ordered up some catfish filets."

  "All this rich food must seem strange if you're used to manioc, jungle fruit, rice, beans, and fish."

  "I see the things in magazines and I remember what I ate as a child. You know like pizza, spaghetti, giant hamburgers. Western food is in the large cities but I often pass on that. We have beef now and then from ranches on the Maranon and once I made a pizza for my friends on the river. Everyone loved it. They ate too much and got sick. So that was the last pizza. If I am not too busy working, I mix many fruits and make a compote and use a little pepper or curry and put it on the fish. When I get to California, I will try all sorts of what you call international cuisine for a little while. But I think I will always like fruit, fish, and vegetables. Actually, my favorite thing about the United States is its veg etables."

  They talked on about life in the rain forest and what it was like to paddle around water-filled villages built on stilts. Everyone listened and asked questions until the middle of the afternoon and then the group broke up. Michael and Grady would return to the publishing house in their own cab, but for the moment they were taking a breather and standing in the corner looking at the wine. Although Michael did not know a great deal about wine, he knew he liked drinking it.

  "I'm thinking I would like to go be bait in California and start my work. I thought maybe you could come with me."

  Grady paused and he could tell she was thinking.

  She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it. "You are one hot guy. The kind of guy girls wrap themselves around in their sleep. Right now I have some thinking to do in my life. I need to get back to California and see my boyfriend. I haven't really resolved my situation there. I think I need to be in LA to think things over and I know you want to go up north to the forests." She paused. "I know you'll return to the depths of the Amazon before too long and I haven't figured that out. Maybe while I'm in LA, you could find a place to live in California. Then maybe, who knows?"

  "I see," Michael said, determined to look cheery. "Well, maybe Gaudet will come and find me and we can end all this one way or the other."

  "Don't say that. It needs to end our way."

  Once back in his room, Michael found a slow depression settling over him. Perhaps the man in the restaurant was telling the truth. Perhaps Grady was part of an elaborate trap. After a few minutes of mulling it over, he conceded that he couldn't know for certain about Sam, but Grady he was sure of. It wasn't hard to imagine Sam having more on his agenda than he was letting on to Grady.

  All this suspicion was troubling; Michael was not used to it Perhaps he was influenced by Grady's rebuff more than he ought to be. Not knowing what else to do, he called Rebecca, who was in his view a wise woman.

  "You know the young woman Grady."

  "Yes?"

  "She is leaving for LA soon. I will be going to northern California, to the wilderness."

  "You sound a little forlorn."

  "I guess I was enjoying her company."

  "She was certainly enjoying yours."

  "Really?"

  "Take it from me."

  "You know some things are not meant to be. She is maybe for me a Chullachaqui."

  "Which is?"

  "The natives believe that sometimes you run into a person in the rain forest that is really a spirit. To figure it out, you look at their right foot. If it isn't a hoof then they are flesh and blood. Maybe she is a product of my imagination created from a life-and-death situation." He smiled into the handset. "I know of course that she is as real as you and I, but maybe I have made of her something in my mind that she is not."

  "Maybe she has done the same. Maybe she's afraid."

  "Of what?"

  "I don't know. Maybe you should try to find out," Rebecca suggested.

  "I'll think about that. You're a good friend. I have something else I needed to speak with you about. Do you know a law firm called

  … let me find it… Binkley, Hart, and Rove?"

  "Of course. They're huge."

  "And reputable?"

  "As reputable as a big New York law firm can be. You'll have to pardon my cynicism. They are very reputable."

  Michael received the call shortly after speaking with Rebecca.

  "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 ta
lk 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."

  "We have to call Sam. Do you object to my calling Sam?"

  "Wouldn't matter if I did."

  "You got that right."

  It took a while to get Sam. They patched her through to his cell phone and it rang forever. Quickly she explained Michael's encounter with the lawyer in the restaurant and just as quickly Sam explained what he wanted.

  "Sam's coming from LA to New York. He's going to that meeting."

  "What?" Michael's brain was moving but not fast enough. "He can't."

  Grady just smiled.

  "Okay. How?"

  "To get in the door," she said, and winked, "he'll pretend to be you."

  Michael wasn't at all certain he would allow Sam to at tend the meeting in his stead. But at the moment he was more concerned about meeting Georges Raval.

  "I'd like to go to Abercrombie and Fitch." He tried to sound nonchalant, but he wasn't sure he had succeeded.

  "Huh?"

  "Abercrombie and Fitch. Haven't you heard of them?"

  "Of course, they're a dude store."

  "You said I was a dude. So can't I go?"

  "You're not that kind of dude." She wrinkled her nose. "All right. I'll get us some cabs."

  "I want to take the subway."

  "The subway?"

  She called Yodo over from his corner and they huddled with one of the other guards. No doubt there would be a lot of talk about "security" and the subway. They walked Irving Street to the 1 and 9 at Fourteenth Street and went down Manhattan to Wall Street. From there they walked the few blocks to the Seaport shopping area, where they found Abercrombie amp; Fitch. Michael did his best to peruse the merchandise, but he was much more interested in hearing Grady's stories about growing up in LA.

  At 4:25 p.m. he glanced at his watch.

  "I've seen enough," he said. "Let's go."

  "Let's take a cab."

  "I like the subway. We take the 1 and 9 to Christopher, and it's only a short cab ride or a good walk."

  "Since when did you become an expert on the subway?"

  "Since I got a map. There is a saying, 'Em Roma, se romano.' "

  "What's that mean?"

  " 'When in Rome I am Roman.' "

  "Michael, you are up to something here and you're terrible at hiding it."

  "Huh?" It was another pitiful attempt to cover up.

  "You've been, like, glancing at your watch every five minutes."

  "I'll explain in a few minutes."

  "Why a few minutes?"

  "You'll have to wait for an explanation. You can come or stay."

  "Unless this is a birthday surprise-and it's not my birthday-you're out of your depth with this shit. You gonna tell me?"

  Michael just kept walking, setting his mouth in a grim line.

  And, damn it, she followed.

  They boarded the subway for the ride back up the West side of Manhattan. Once again he got her talking about her life in LA, until they exited at the Christopher Street station. It was 4:45 P.M., too early for Georges Raval. Michael couldn't help looking around the entrance to the south bound anyway.

  "Now what?" she asked.

  "We go into Starbucks for coffee."

  "Who are you looking for? Your eyeballs might as well be on gimbals."

  They walked past the newsstand, crossed the street from the little concrete island that was the entrance to the Christopher Street station, and walked into Starbucks.

&n
bsp; "I'll clear all this up shortly."

  "Now would be a good time," Grady said.

  "What's a macchiato?"

  "Italian for stained as with caramel in the coffee. You're not going to distract me."

  Two of the bodyguards remained outside. Yodo and two others spread out around the place and each took a turn going to the counter and ordering. Grady and Michael were first in line and each ordered a soy latte with almond syrup.

  They sat at a small table which was a little low for his height.

  She unzipped her coat and got comfortable, but he kept his eyes on the subway staircase and the newsstand not one hundred feet away where he expected to see a man in a coat with a carnation.

  "In a few minutes I'm going to meet a man. We will fol low him; then I will go alone into an apartment building. If it doesn't look good, we go to the Lutheran church."

  "You know this man?"

  "Not exactly."

  "No way can you go by yourself into a building."

  "Get used to it."

  "No. I won't get used to it. How about a compromise? How about we stand back so you can talk in private."

  "We need real privacy. You must wait outside the build ing"

  "It's too risky."

  At that moment Michael saw a man in a dark coat crossing the street to the Christopher Street station. In the press of bodies he couldn't see the lapel. Slowly he rose, intent on the man and his coat. Then he saw the white carnation. The man was blond with longish hair and a beard. He walked easily- younger than he expected. And big. Could it be the right man? Then the man stopped right beside the newsstand near the subway stairs, just as he had said. It had to be him. Michael rose, went to the door of Starbucks, brushed his fin gers through his hair, and put on his gloves. With a quick swipe of the hand, the carnation was gone.

  Quickly the man began walking down Christopher. Michael followed and immediately Grady was on his arm, the whole entourage following.