Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (8 page)

With a different outfit
, Kevin thought,
you’d be a very scary-looking man
.

But all he said was, “Thanks for helping me through it.”

To which Danny shook his head and smiled again. Then he turned and continued on his way.

Kevin watched him go for a minute, wondering what sort of bone-crushing workout routine Danny Fisher subscribed to during his afternoons. Then he reminded himself that he had all kinds of problems of his own to worry about.

Starting with getting into his apartment.

He turned and looked at the entrance to the building where Danny had left him. He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were walking – he had been too busy trying to follow Danny’s lead – but now he had a chance to look around. They hadn’t gone far from the school, barely more than a quarter of a mile. He was standing in front of a large green awning between 66th and 67th street on Park Avenue. The grass and flowers on the avenue’s wide median strip were still green and blooming in early September, and there was a doorman standing silently at the entrance to this building. Just as there was in front of virtually every Park Avenue apartment building.

Nice spot
.

He turned and headed for the door, wondering if this part of his day might be about to come to a rather sudden halt. But the doorman, when he saw that Kevin meant to come in, nodded curtly at him and said “Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks,” before backing up quickly to open the door and stand out of the way.

Kevin stopped just inside the entrance and looked around. It was a huge lobby, long and wide, with three banks of elevators spaced along the left side. The walls were papered with a thick, textured matting, and there were framed impressionist prints every few feet on the walls. The floor was inlaid with strips of black and white marble, and there were brass light fixtures spaced along the ceiling.

He turned back to the doorman. “I left my key at the office. Do you have my spare?”

The doorman went into a large wooden drawer located behind the desk. A minute later, he had found it.

“Thank you.”

Kevin glanced down at the key, which had a tag on it reading “PH-C.” Being a born-and-raised Manhattan boy, he knew exactly what this label meant
.
But
he
still
hesitated. He turned back to the doorman, who was hovering a few feet away in case anything else might be required.

“Are you sure this is – ”

“Sir?”

“Never mind.”

Kevin walked to the third elevator bank, the “C” bank, and pressed the button. The door opened immediately, and he stepped inside. He pressed the button marked “PH,” for “Penthouse.” In Manhattan apartment terms, this meant a residence that was not only on the top floor, but which had also
not
been divided up into two smaller apartments. In a building that was already very large and already very expensive, the Penthouse would be twice as large. Twice as expensive. For a Park Avenue apartment like this one, a mere $2.5 million in the bank would simply not be enough.

Not nearly enough.

“It might be enough to secure the
loan
,” Kevin said to no one, as he was riding up in the empty elevator. “Maybe.”

The elevator reached the top floor, and the door opened to reveal another door immediately before him. He used the key to open it, and then he stepped into his new apartment.

“Jesus,” Kevin said.

A Man Standing Behind Him

The entryway was modest. But it was the modesty of the simple whitewashed gangplank of an ocean liner, of the small American flag painted on the first-stage casing of a Saturn V rocket. Kevin could tell it was going to be a huge apartment. The ceilings, even in this small, immaculate room, were unreasonably high. A huge, full length mirror, framed and reinforced, hung on the near wall, and there was an antique table beside the front door for keys and the day’s mail. A Savonnerie rug lay on the gleaming, dark-stained wooden floors. Everything was spare and perfect. There were two doorways from which to exit this first room, one leading to an immense living room, the other to a long hallway, the kitchen and den, and then presumably to bedrooms.

Kevin went to the living room first. There was a built-in book case, one of the largest he had ever seen in a Manhattan apartment. It took up an entire wall of the room, and Kevin felt a surge of relief as he recognized some of his own things.

My books
.

It was strange how deeply this affected him. All day he had been confused. All day he had been presented with people and things and situations he did not expect. He was at a strange job, he had strange co
-
workers, and he was in a strange apartment. But at least this bookcase contained familiar things.

Not that they were
all
his books. Stepping closer, he could see titles that were certainly not part of his collection: books on languages, French and Spanish and Portuguese and even Russian; books on engineering and physics; books on game theory, on
hunting
, for God’s sake; he was not a hunter. He had never held a gun in his life.

Countless others.

Still, it was good to see some old favorites. And presumably he would find some of his other things in this apartment. But he would find the kitchen first, and then the bedrooms.

“Good afternoon.”

Kevin let out an involuntary shout: “Yow!”

There was a man standing behind him at the entrance to the living room, his hands at his sides. He was in his thirties, medium sized and trim, and he looked almost like a cadet standing at attention. He was dressed neatly, in gray slacks and a tucked-in black polo shirt.

Kevin regained his composure. “Who are you?”

“Andrew Helms,” the man said, his voice gentle and ingratiating. “Andrew, if you like. We met yesterday?” There was the slightest hint of confusion in the man’s voice. Because he had been through all of this before, his tone said.
They
had been through it before. “Your personal assistant?”

Kevin gave this information a moment to sink in. “Assistant,” he said, as though trying the word for the first time.

“Yes.”

Kevin sighed and put his head back for a moment “All right,” he said at last. “You do look efficient.”

“Thank you.”

“We met yesterday?”

“It was my first day.”

“No, wait a minute.” Kevin shook his head. “It doesn’t bother you that I don’t
remember
meeting you yesterday?”

Andrew tilted his head to the side. “I’m not offended. We’ve only just been introduced. You surely have countless matters to attend to, matters that require your focus and attention. Hence occasional forgetfulness, and hence your need for an assistant.” He ended this little speech with a trace of a smile, inviting Kevin to share in the incontrovertible logic, the inarguable transitive henceness of what he had said.
But Kevin only sighed. “I don’t mean I forgot your
name
. I’m saying I don’t remember you at all. I swear to God, I’ve never even seen
you before.” He stopped and stared at the prim man, trying to convey some of the deep strangeness, some of the utter lunacy that he was experiencing.

But Andrew was unfazed. He shrugged, and the lunacy passed over and around him without a ripple, as though he were a vehicle that had been specially designed and streamlined to cut through such distractions. “Would you like a drink of water?”

“No,” Kevin said quickly. “And by the way, I don’t need an assistant. You can go.”

But again Andrew was unaffected. He didn’t move. He looked at Kevin as though his employer had suggested that the two of them jump out the window together. An amusing suggestion, yes, good fun, but not something that warranted any serious consideration. “You’ve paid for my services in advance, Sir. Two weeks’ worth. My effects, which are few, are in the servant’s quarters. Which is where I will return if you would like some time to yourself.”

Kevin ran a hand through his hair, and he let out a groan of frustration.

“You’ll find me quite useful, I believe,” Andrew went on. “And after a day or two, I suspect you’ll scarcely notice I’m even – ”

“Fine,” Kevin said suddenly, waving at him as though Andrew were a salesman who was taking up too much time. “I give up. Let’s move on. I have
servant’s
quarters?”

“Indeed.”

“Couldn’t we just call it the guest room or something?”

Andrew’s nose wrinkled. “The quarters are more than adequate for me – clean and tastefully decorated – but I’m not sure such a place would be suitable for
guests
. The room is, after all, directly off the kitchen, and just behind the laundry room.”

“Of course it is.”

“May I get you that drink of water?”

“No. I have to go out again. I have to…” Kevin stopped. What exactly did he have to do? Figure out what had been happening to him for the last three months, yes. But how exactly was he going to do that?

He had an idea. Not a foolproof idea, but it was something.

“I have to take care of some things,” he finished.

“Of course,” Andrew said. “Returning this evening?”

“What?” Kevin was briefly confused by the question. “Sure, I’ll be back.”

He had a flash of inspiration.

“Why?” he said slowly. “Didn’t I come back
last
night?”

Andrew waited a beat. “You did not,” he said, and his eyebrows went up just slightly, in an expression of concern or disapproval, Kevin could not tell. But then the moment passed, and Andrew was pressing on. “I’d be happy to prepare your dinner,” he said, “if you’ll tell me what you’d like.”

Kevin considered. Weird day or not, the idea of an expertly cooked meal was tempting. “I don’t know. Chicken and rice, maybe some salad?”

“Excellent. It will be waiting for you.”

“Okay. Do you have a watch?”

Andrew held out his arm as if for inspection. He was wearing a simple, black digital wristwatch that went well with his monkish attire.

“Does it work?” Kevin asked.

“Flawlessly.”

“
All
the time?”

“So far. For the last seven years, that is.”

Kevin nodded. “What time is it?”

Andrew did not point out that Kevin had his own watch, or that there was a large grandfather clock standing at the far end of the living room, not ten feet from them. “Nearly half past three in the afternoon,” he said.