Finding Mercy (24 page)

“There’s a common saying to describe a really busy place. Just say Grand Central Station,” he told her.

He had to admit he was having second thoughts about how he’d decided to proceed now, but trusting Logan Reese and going back to work on the case in seclusion and, he hoped, obscurity was the best move he could make. He needed to get his testimony planned and rehearsed. He had no doubt that Marv Boynton and Chinese money would hire the best defense lawyers possible to cross-examine him. Someone had spent big bucks on a hired gun, even a second one. As much as it pained him, he needed to send Ella away and pray that she’d be safe at home, because he was surely still a target here, and he didn’t want her standing next to him if he took a hit.

Besides, if he kept her close, he was going to make love to her, and then he’d betray some of the finest people he’d ever met, let alone Ella. Keeping her with him, seducing her would be like—like shredding a bouquet of fresh, fragrant lavender. The sweet scent would haunt him forever, but the plant itself would be uprooted. That is, unless, once he got through all this, they could be together. But Ella could never flourish in this world and, despite what
Grossmamm
claimed, he could never become one of them.

“So many people!” she said again.

“Coming in not only on subways but on trains. Over that way,” he said, pointing at commuters hurrying toward doors to platforms lining myriad tracks. He pictured the labyrinthine tunnels that lay below. He’d had a friend once who was always talking about homeless people living on old, abandoned train platforms in dark tunnels—the mole people, he’d called them. Alex used to wonder what those poor souls were hiding from. Eventually, the government had moved them out to subsidized housing projects, just the way the feds tried to move him around.

He was finished being a mole person of a different kind. Surely things were going to be better for him from now on, for Ella too. He loved her in a way, always would, he admitted to himself. His Ella enchanted still enchanted him, right in the middle of evening rush hour in one of the busiest, noisiest places on the planet, just as she had in the quiet hills of her home.

As she gazed around—upward—wide-eyed, he felt he was seeing this familiar place for the first time. Looking at things through her point of view had often done that for him, often educated him, even when they’d looked at the stars together that night on her lavender hill. He could name the artificial satellites by name, but he’d never really appreciated their beauty. As they walked across the massive main concourse floor of polished white marble, for once, he too admired the lofty ceiling and high windows.

He felt a bit strange dressed the way they were, he back in a business suit, she finally in her suit and heels. He carried his suitcase into the hotel and saw Logan awaited them in a corner of the lobby. “Got you checked into adjoining rooms,” he told them. Even after he was introduced to Ella, Logan kept stealing glances at her. He’d evidently expected one of Alex’s “painted woman” friends. It reminded him again how Ella looked like a beautiful angel off some sort of Christmas card, untouched, even amid the fury and frenzy of life here.

Logan went back to his office just down the street with a promise to be back with Alex’s deposition to review after supper. He’d even arranged room service for them. Ella became very quiet as their elevator ascended to the twentieth floor, but that was new for her too.

Their rooms overlooked the vast roof of Grand Central Station next door with its huge statue of Mercury with his stone wings, staring down onto busy 42nd Street.

“That’s the Roman messenger god, Mercury, patron of travelers,” he told Ella when he brought her things from the suitcase over to her room where she was still staring out the window. She’d changed back into her casual slacks and running shoes.

“That’s us,” she said, not looking at him, her voice wan and wistful. “We have stone wings that keep us from rushing off again. We’re travelers who have been fleeing evil, travelers through life, but not together anymore.”

“Sure we are. Even though I’m going to have Logan find out if we can arrange security for you back home tomorrow, we’ll still see each other. As soon as I get through all this and the hoopla dies down, I’m going to make it up to Janus and Trixie, your family—and especially you. I’ll visit, and we’ll work on a marketing plan for your Lavender Plain Products.”

“A fancy plan for what’s plain. And never the twain shall meet.” She turned to face him. She’d been crying again, and he couldn’t bear it. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her how much he admired and—damn it—loved her.

But, like a coward, he said only, “I’ll give you some time to get settled, then we’ll eat together in my room, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure,” she said with a little shrug. “What I want doesn’t matter. Just keeping you safe and getting you through all this…that does.”

A knock he could hear clear in here from his room’s hall door gave him an excuse not to touch her, not to make love to her on that big king-size bed behind her as he so desperately wanted to do. Later, tonight, he’d try to explain his mixed feelings to her, how he both wanted her but wanted to protect her. But as he started back toward his room to see if room service was here already, he heard another knock, a loud one. No, that was more like the sound of his door opening, hitting back against the wall.

But did Logan have a key? And wasn’t it too early for room service?

He held his hand, palm out, toward Ella so she wouldn’t speak again. Partly closing the adjoining door between the two rooms, he peered through. A man with a gun blurred by, heading toward the bathroom. Stranger. Killer! Had Logan been the one who sold him out? Who else knew they were here and which room was his?

Not daring to close the adjoining door in case it attracted attention, Alex held his finger to his lips to signal silence. Her eyes widened, but she nodded. Alex moved toward her, took her wrist, made for the hall door of her room. It would make noise and take too long to phone for help or grab anything. They had to run again.

He unlocked and opened the door and peered into the hall. Another man stood a ways down the hall, looking the other way. Another assassin or someone innocent?

They walked to the turn in the hall toward the bank of elevators, then broke into a run. He glanced at the floors the four elevators were on: nothing close. He heard running footsteps as he pulled Ella to the emergency exit of the stairs. They banged through the door and started down, their footsteps echoing in the tall stairwell shaft.

He heard a man’s shout from above and two pairs of feet thudding after them.

“Hey, Caldwell! We’re security your lawyer Reese sent. Hey, wait up!”

He glanced at Ella. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head so hard her hair braid came loose. “We have to go!”

He thanked God she agreed with his gut instinct. And that she’d said
we.

24

ELLA WAS INSTANTLY out of breath. Not a panic attack! Not now.

As they vaulted across a landing to head down another flight of stairs, she glanced up into the maze of railings and the concrete underside of steps. A man leaning over—she saw his face. His arm—a gun!

Andrew pulled her on. Her heart thudded so hard it shook her entire body. Her teeth chattered.

She slammed into Andrew as he came to a dead stop in the corner of the stairwell.

“Go on!” she whispered.

He nodded but opened the door labeled 14th Floor, then slammed it. The footsteps pursuing them halted. Holding his finger to his lips, Andrew tiptoed toward the next flight of stairs down. Slowly, quietly they made their way to the 12th Floor door—what had happened to the 13th?—then opened that door and ran down the long hall of hotel room doors, heading toward the elevators. None were stopped on this floor but two were near. Andrew pushed the down button, then punched it repeatedly. One elevator arrived, but its doors seemed to open so slowly.

“Here!” They heard a man shout that single word from down the hall. Muted, running footsteps, this time on carpet.

They leaped into the elevator, and Alex hit the button to close the door. They crammed themselves into the corner by the controls. Yet she glimpsed the same man’s face as the doors nearly closed. He stuck the barrel of a black, squat gun between the doors to keep them open. Or would he shoot? Alex grabbed off one shoe and, as if he were hitting a baseball with a bat, swung its heel hard into the barrel of the gun. The shoe shoved it out; the doors closed and the elevator descended.

“Come on, come on!” Andrew muttered as he jammed his shoe back on. But the small room that people here rode up and down stopped at two more floors. It seemed to take an eternity. On the sixth floor, two women with large name tags got on. No one spoke. The only sound was a muted
ding-ding,
the hum of the elevator and her and Andrew’s hard breathing. The younger woman grinned at them, winked, then looked away. Ella just bet she thought they were out of breath from crazy kissing in here.

The two women got off at the floor called mezzanine where the buzz of conversations and laughter floated in. People, lots of them, some sort of busy gathering. “Should we go too?” she whispered. “Get lost in the crowd?”

“I don’t want to endanger anyone else if those idiots open fire. If they’re watching where our elevator stops, they may look for us in this mess.”

In this mess,
echoed through Ella’s stunned brain as the doors closed again. In this mess at least they were together. And he was right: What if even a few people would be near and that man shot at them? She knew they were both his target now: She’d seen his face—twice.

* * *

Alex had been sure Ella was going to have a panic attack in the stairwell, but she seemed pretty steady now.

As their elevator descended, she asked, “Should we find a policeman?”

“I still don’t trust Gerald Branin and the feds. That’s where we’d end up if we ran to the cops. And I still don’t believe Logan Reese sold me out, but he could have been followed and accidentally led them to me. We need to hide right now, then contact him. He was working on getting you sent home.”

“But where are we going to hide that someone else won’t get hurt?”

“We’ll have to pass a lot of people, but we’ll go someplace that must be deserted by now after rush hour.”

“At Grand Central Station?”

“You are getting too good at reading my mind.”

Rushing past and around people on the sidewalk, they hurried down 42nd Street and through the first door to the terminal. He was relieved to see the crowds greatly reduced, but people still rushed here and there. Yes, this movement and these numbers would obscure them until he could find a place to hide, then call Logan.

Retracing their steps earlier today, they went down the escalator to the lower concourse, always looking back and up over their shoulders. “We can identify that one man,” she said.

“There were at least two. Ella, I’m so sorry it’s come to this, that I got you in so deep with me. I admire you, care for you and don’t know what I would have done without you. Now I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep you safe. I left my cell in the room, but I have money. After we’ve ditched the hired guns, I’ll contact my lawyers somehow. Right now, we’re going not only to ground, but underground.”

As they hurried past the food court, which was partly closed up for the night, he thought again of the mole people who had lived underground. He headed toward the mostly deserted train platforms. Glancing back again, he gasped as he saw two men, both of them in business suits, running toward the food court as if they’d miss their train.

He grabbed Ella’s hand again and pulled her on.

“I still say—we need to—find a policeman,” she argued, gasping for air.

“Too late. Besides, how many times have I heard the Amish don’t trust them?” He wanted to keep her spirits up. “I’m sounding more Amish than you right now. I think the police might patrol where we’re going, subway workers too. The gun guys will back off then. Come on!”

Their pursuers had not yet turned into this hall of the concourse. Alex tried the first door he found that led to a train platform. Yes, unlocked! Although it was deserted since the northern commuters had thinned out, the area was well lit.

They tore across the platform to the far end where it narrowed and darkened. Pillars there supported the ceiling of the tunnel, lit by sporadic, dim lights beyond, but no good just hiding there. The tracks lay below them—three rails, the third one he knew could be live and electrocute someone. Should they just wait there, pressed against the wall? All was silent but for their slowing footsteps—until he heard a door open and then close with a metallic click and echo.

“Oh, no!” Ella whispered.

Alex sent up a silent prayer for their safety. Yeah, he thought, who was turning Amish now indeed?

Slow footsteps came toward them, a scuffling sound. “They must’ve come in here,” a whisper floated to them. “Perfect place—no witnesses.”

Alex edged back along the narrowing concrete above the rails with Ella tight behind him. The tracks turned here, out of sight of the area where the men stood. If he and Ella moved quickly, got across the tracks, he saw a doorway. Wherever it led, it was better than staying here.

He mouthed the words to her.
We’re going down and over. Step only where I step—only!

He got on his knees, hung by his hands and let himself quietly down the four-foot drop onto the tracks. He put his hands on her bottom, then her waist to ease her down. It was easy enough to miss the third rail that might be live, but he scraped his chin pulling himself up to the concrete platform on the other side. He lay on his belly, pulled her up, just as he heard the man’s voice again: “Check down here!”

Pulling Ella with him, making too much noise, they darted into the narrow entry to the doorway. To his dismay, he saw the metal steps went only one way and that was down.

* * *

Ella held tightly to Andrew’s hand, then had to release it as they descended the narrow steps, trying to stay as silent as possible. Yet the sound of their frenzied breathing seemed to echo in her soul. How had it all come to this? From the heights of her lavender hill at home and the water tower in Pinecraft to the depths of this massive city, she had been in danger.

The words
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil
came to her. For certain now, that’s where they were walking, but she did fear the evil. And yet, to be with Andrew, to help him—that was worth the risk, wasn’t it?

They froze for one moment when they heard the clang of feet on metal above them. Their pursuers had crossed the tracks!

From the bottom of the staircase stretched a dimly lit concrete passageway lined by huge pipes about two feet in diameter that shot out occasional puffs of scorching steam. Although it was a balmy night above, it was horribly hot and humid here. They were soon both slick with sweat. Sporadic, oily puddles lay on the uneven floor, reflecting the wan lighting in lurid colors. Was hell like this? she wondered, as they dodged another hiss of steam.

And then, as the sound of footsteps descending the metal stairs echoed even here, she felt the old terror, the drowning darkness reach for her. She’d fought off panic attacks for days and yet now, she saw again the water of the pond reaching for her, pulling her down. She sucked in a huge breath and held it, tried to steady herself, concentrated on putting one foot before the other, staying right behind Andrew. She didn’t want to die. She could not let the swirling waters win!

It became so narrow and low ceilinged that he had to walk bent over, and she had to watch hitting her head. Though she tried to keep quiet, she panted like a dog. Shaking, fearful she’d collapse, she concentrated on controlling her thoughts. The footfalls behind them were now on concrete. They heard the all-too familiar voice rasp the words, “Come on! The perfect place to end all this.”

To end all this…oh,
ya,
she wanted it to be over, but not like they meant. Thank the Lord this tunnel curved and kept them hidden for now. Suddenly, Andrew pulled her ahead of him. She figured it was so he would take a bullet first.

Sopping wet, gasping for air, she kept going, clawing toward the surface, kicking her feet, but again, she was going under. Pond water—no, tears and sweat—burned her eyes. She blinked to clear them. Both of them jumped and dodged another scorching blast of steam. All was grime and soot here, dark like the waters of her death.

They came to a widening of the passageway. A maze of machinery, a workers’ storage area. Andrew picked up a big wrench from the floor, but what would that be against bullets and a gun?

They turned into an even wider tunnel. “There must be an exit near here,” Andrew whispered, and took the lead again. She held so tightly to his hand that her fingers cramped. Another curve, one they could not see beyond. Train tracks lay below them again, so that was a good sign, wasn’t it? They hurried faster only to find the tunnel narrowed again. But it had a walkway on this side, so they followed that.

Then they heard it, felt it. A distant rumble shook the air, the very ground, the wall she leaned against.

“I thought these tracks would be deserted,” Andrew said. He had to talk up now, because the sound came louder, clearer. “I hope it makes them turn back. Come on!”

But they’d barely gone a few more yards when the tunnel exploded with light and screeching noise. As a train careened around the bend, a blast of air slammed them, then nearly sucked them off their feet. Dirt, papers, pieces of grit pummeled them as the subway train roared past endlessly, then away. They kept their eyes tight shut against flying debris but then had to look behind for their pursuers again.

“It will stop them too—for a minute,” Andrew said and yanked her on.

Ella fought her fears, pushed back the waters. She was not being sucked into the drowning depths but was fighting for her life with Andrew. They ran past signs of workers, a discarded orange vest, more tools, a hard hat and then a lit sign over a doorway: EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY: ALARM WILL SOUND.

The alarm for them had already sounded, Ella thought. And yes, an emergency. She felt hysterical. Andrew twisted the knob and thrust the door open; a beeping sound that would surely bring the men behind them. They pounded up the stairs, past an alcove with more machines and tools, then to a tiny hall where they could go right, left or up.

Footsteps behind them again. A man panting for breath.

“Up,” she said, when Andrew hesitated. “Go up.”

The metal ladder seemed endless. It was dark here, but they could see a rim of light above. Climbing Janus and Trixie’s ladder at the circus…climbing her hill.

“Where the hell are they?” they heard a shout below. And then, “Up here!”

Ella expected a bullet. She was behind Andrew. If this was a dead end, it was her fault.

Andrew opened a round metal hatch or door above them a couple of inches. Blinking at the brightness, she could have cheered. He grunted, shoved at the heavy lid, which lifted farther. He banged it all the way open and scrambled out. He reached down for her, nearly yanked her up and shoved her away from the opening, slammed the hatch closed, then stood on it.

Ella saw they were in a dimly lit storage area with unhitched train cars on tracks, but it seemed glaringly bright compared to where they’d been. Once again, tools and machinery littered the area.

“Stand on this,” Andrew ordered. “I’ve got to put something on it. If they shoot, it would only ricochet back at them.”

She was certain, as she stood there, that she could feel the men trying to lift it—or was she shaking that hard? Andrew came back, lugging something that looked like an anvil; he put it between her feet, then carried other pieces of scrap metal over and piled them there.

He hugged her hard, then they ran again. Out a door, where another alarm went off. Maybe workers would come and find the men with guns trapped below. But they were not dead like the fake clown. They could try again.

The bright lights of the city startled her at first, just like stars had the time her friends had saved her from the depths of the pond. But she was all right, she told herself. Better yet, this time, she was with Andrew.

* * *

Though they were both exhausted and looked horrible, they walked for ten blocks until they found an all-night restaurant. They used the bathrooms there to clean up as best they could, including putting cool water on a few minor burns from scalding steam. He ordered them burgers, fries and chocolate malts—how normal, she thought.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered, though she was on her second big cup of ice water.

“You can speak up now, and you have to eat to rebuild your strength. I’m going to pay one of the guys behind the counter to let me use his cell phone so I can call Logan. I swear he didn’t set that hit up.”

“But we still don’t know who did.”