Part 5 The World’s Greatest Detectives #2
In the main living area, I even checked the books with blank spines—but they were just a hodgepodge of no-name books wrapped in the trendy off-white dust jackets.
‘You mean rich-boy Ivy League jocks turned federal agents?’ Heidi said. ‘I think it’s fair to say your ex is a total fucking asshole, Audrey. What did you ever see in him?’
Audrey shrugged. ‘When you’re young, it can be easy to confuse narcissism for charm and he was very charming back then. Lesson learned.’
I was still thinking hard.
When it hit me.
‘Oh, man, why didn’t I see it before . . .?’ I said.
‘What?’ Audrey said. ‘What didn’t you see?’
But I was already running toward the elevators.
Fifteen seconds later, we all stood in the vestibule of the 95th floor, looking at the two framed editions of Superman No. 1 and Batman No. 1.
‘In the Batman comics,’ I said, ‘Batman is often referred to as the world’s greatest detective.’
I pulled the frame off the wall and turned it over, revealing its rear side.
And there it was.
Another yellow Post-It note.
With handwriting on it, the same handwriting as on the other one:
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR
ALEXANDER HAMILTON
OPRAH WINFREY
IT’S MR KING’S TAWDRY SECRET.
FIND IT AND YOU’LL FIND MY PRICE
FOR MR KING’S LIFE.
‘His tawdry secret?’ Audrey said.
‘There are two parts to this,’ I said. ‘That first clue gave us the location of Mr King, but this one leads to the price.’
‘So what do William the Conqueror, Alexander Hamilton and Oprah have in common?’ Heidi asked.
Bill answered. ‘They were all illegitimate children.’
‘Nice, Bill,’ I said.
(I knew Bill read many history books but I hadn’t known he was an Oprah fan.)
‘King must have an illegitimate child . . .’ Garrett said.
As he said this, Garrett glanced at Yasmina, observing us from down the hallway with her six-year-old son, Alexei.
She scowled. Clenched her teeth.
She said tightly, ‘Ari had a son with our former nanny, Madison. The boy would be five now. Ari puts them up in an apartment in this building, down on the 44th floor. That tart got everything she wanted: apartment, money every month, the whole luxury lifestyle.’
I saw the burning anger in Yasmina King’s eyes.
I thought it was interesting that a woman who was both objectively beautiful and married to the richest man in the world was still so obviously unhappy.
I also noted the age of the illegitimate child.
The nanny’s boy was five.
Yasmina’s (still missing) girl Katya was also five.
That meant Aristo King had knocked up the nanny while Yasmina had been pregnant with Katya.
Heidi was clearly thinking the same thing.
‘Was there any chick this guy didn’t bang?’ she muttered.
‘We need to go to the 44th floor,’ I said. ‘Mrs King, I know this apartment looks pretty awful right now, but you and your boy should stay here with these cops. Heidi, Bill, stay with her, don’t let her out of your sight, and keep an eye out for bad guys with silenced machine guns.’
‘Copy that,’ Bill said.
‘We need some guns,’ Heidi said.
Like me, she and Bill had come to New York unarmed, so she hurried into the living room and grabbed a couple of pistols from the bodies of the two dead bodyguards there. She returned and threw one to Bill.
Yasmina King nodded to me. ‘Please, you must find my little Katya.’
‘We’ll do our best,’ I said. Then, to Audrey, Garrett and Xiao: ‘Come on.’
We raced for the elevator.
No sooner had the elevator started downward than I did something that surprised everyone.
I hit the emergency stop button.
And opened the elevator’s roof hatch.
‘Sam, what are you doing?’ Audrey said.
‘I’m starting to see a pattern in our tormentor’s games,’ I said.
‘He’s been here in this building with us the whole time.
He’s also had total control of this building from minute one.
Every person he’s grabbed was living here: Aristo King, his two younger kids, his older kids Ajax and Cassandra, and now, -possibly, his illegiti-mate kid, too.
And while our kidnapper’s been sending us to different floors of this building, he’s been doing stuff on other levels. ’
‘So, what are you doing now?’ Garrett said.
‘While you guys go down to Level 44, I’m going to sneak back up to the penthouse and see if our riddle-maker turns up.’
‘That’s a good idea, but you can’t do that on your own,’ Audrey said. ‘I want to go with you, if only just to watch your back.’
‘Thanks, Audrey, but I think it’s better if I do it by myself. I’m going to be sneaking around and that’s better done solo.’
Audrey wasn’t convinced or pleased. ‘All right, but . . . be careful.’
‘Good luck on 44,’ I said.
Then I clambered up through the hatch and scaled the emergency handholds on the wall of the shaft, heading back up as, beneath me, with a soft whoosh, the elevator shoomed away, heading to the 44th floor.
A minute later, I quietly opened the elevator doors on the 93rd floor and stepped out onto the lowest floor of the three-level apartment.
It was empty.
Silent.
Still.
I led with the little pistol Merritt Garrett had lent me.
I recalled that this level housed Aristo King’s private office, plus a gym, sauna, steam room and golf simulator.
And a panic room.
Unlike the top level which was very open, this one had a narrow internal corridor that seemed to run in a circle around the entire floor. From it, the various rooms branched off.
Leading with my gun, I headed clockwise to the west, moving cautiously.
The first room I found was Aristo King’s office.
Great view to the south.
Huge dark-brown desk.
The office looked more ornamental than functional—I didn’t think Mr King did much of his work here. It also had an outer office, which I guessed was for his executive assistant, Ms Kimura.
I kept going, working my way clockwise around the floor.
The golf simulator was next to the office.
Coming to the west side of the floor, I found the gym.
It looked like a hotel gym: only this one had panoramic views of the Hudson.
Same for the steam room, only it faced north: I didn’t think there were many steam rooms that looked out over Central Park.
After passing a cold plunge bath (park view, too), I came to the northeastern corner of the building.
The sauna was here.
Looking down the next section of the corridor, at the far southern end, I could see the thick silver vault-like door to the panic room. It was open.
The sauna’s wooden door was also open and as I peered inside it, I could see that the sauna had wonderful views, too—
Movement.
From my right.
I ducked into the sauna and peered round its doorframe to see—
—a man in white coveralls hurrying into the panic room.
My mystery man in white.
The building’s superintendent.
Or at least the guy who said he was the superintendent, and who’d gone missing for the last half-hour or so.
Found you . . .
I regripped my gun and stepped forward—
—when I was shoved hard from behind.
By someone else, someone I hadn’t seen.
I tumbled into the sauna, falling awkwardly to the floor.
I scrambled to my feet and whirled around just as the thick wooden door slammed with a muffled whump.
I yanked on the handle, but whoever had thrust me into the sauna had slid something through its outer handle, locking me in.
I mentally kicked myself.
Merritt Garrett had guessed earlier that there must be more than one bad guy in the building and in my haste to pursue the man in white, I’d forgotten about any potential partner of his.
Then, to my surprise, a voice came from the other side of the door.
‘Hello, Dr Speedman.’
Like most sauna doors, this one had a small double-paned window at about head height.
The speaker stood off to the side, keeping himself out of my view.
‘I’m armed!’ I called.
I tapped my pistol against the window.
In response, he tapped a silenced MP5 submachine gun against the other side.
‘But my gun is more powerful than yours,’ he replied, his voice muffled.
It was not the cultured AI-doctored voice from the phone calls.
It was his actual voice.
I detected the hint of an accent, Eastern European, maybe.
‘If you come in here, I will open fire!’ I declared.
‘Then it seems we’re at a bit of an impasse, Dr Speedman. Come now, there’s no need for things to be this way. Why don’t we have a little chat instead?’
He paused.
‘This was very clever of you, to come here while the others took the bait downstairs. I’m good at anticipating things but I wasn’t expecting this move. Very clever.’
‘Why are you doing all this?’ I asked.
Another pause.
‘Why do anything? Because I’m bored. Because I’m paid to. Because I can.’
‘Do you have an axe to grind against Aristo King? You’re a clever guy. I mean, you were able to kidnap him even with all his security and steal one of his attack drones.’
‘That was easy. The countermeasures on his drones are poor; a child could hack one.’
‘So why not just kill him and be done with it? Why play all these games?’ I asked.
‘There are many people who have issues with Mr King,’ the man on the other side of the door said. ‘As for the riddles, maybe they amuse me. Maybe they have a purpose.’
He still wouldn’t reveal his face.
That told me something.
‘Are you Sergei Kazan, the Grandmaster?’ I said.
He chuckled.
‘Is this, like, your magnum opus?’ I pressed. ‘Your big riddle game?’
‘Let me ask you a question, Dr Speedman. You came to this floor while an innocent child—King’s bastard—is in potentially serious jeopardy on the 44th floor.
Tell me, are you more interested in finding me than in saving that child?
This seems rather selfish and egotistical: prioritising the glory of catching me over the life of a hostage? ’
I thought about that.
‘It’s not an ego thing,’ I said. ‘I’m not like that. Besides, the job isn’t just about saving the hostages, it’s also about catching the hostage-taker.’
‘Is it? Ransoms were paid. Do you really still need to catch me?’
‘You still have King and his youngest daughter. If I catch you, I can make you tell me where they are.’
‘You could never make me do anything. And I already told you where he is. In the Sherlock Holmes book.’