The Legacy (18 page)

His eyes shot to hers, then quickly back to the table. Mary Thomas?

I found the marriage license for Jim Egan and Mary Thomas in Dallas about a year ago through a contact of mine down in Texas and traced Mary Thomas right here to New York City to her parents Upper East Side apartment. I actually went to the apartment. Tori sighed in frustration. It turned out to be a dead end, though. Mary ran away after graduating from college. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas claimed they hadnt heard from her since the spring of 1963. Tori paused as the waiter put the plates down and walked away without asking if they needed anything else. But Im sure you already knew all that. I assume Mary Thomas was your mother. Tori was watching Cole intently. Right? she asked.

Yes, he murmured.

It was strange, though.

What was? Cole asked quickly.

I told your grandparents I had information about their daughter when I went to see them, but they didnt want to listen. I would think that if you hadnt heard from your daughter in thirty-five years, youd jump at the chance to get information. Tori shrugged. But they didnt, so I left. I felt like I was so close to something big, then the rug was yanked out from under me. And to think you were sitting just a few blocks away the whole time. She took a sip of Diet Coke, then picked up her sandwich. Its odd how your mother and father disappeared after they were married. I talked to quite a few officers who were on the Dallas police force at the same time as your father. No one knew where he went. They didnt even know your father had gotten married, even men who said they thought they knew him pretty well. And Mary never called her parents to let them know about the wedding, or so your grandparents claim. Its all very strange. Tori took a small bite from her sandwich and continued talking. The Andrea Sage woman falls off the map after Dallas, too. I cant find anything about her anywhere. Of course that happened to a lot of people involved with the Kennedy assassination. They just seemed to evaporate. Its mysterious, dont you think?

Yes, Cole answered automatically without really hearing her question. So Mary Thomas was his mothers real name, and she had been running away from her parents. No wonder she was less than forthright with the Dallas police about a permanent address and identification.

Cole shoved his plate away and stood. Ive got to make a phone call, Tori.

Sure.

He was back in five minutes. As he slid into the seat across from her, Tori asked cheerfully, Did my secretary give me a favorable report?

Cole had indeed called NBC to confirm that Tori Brown was a producer with the news division. Yes, she said you were a wonderful boss. Tori was sharp. He wouldnt underestimate her again.

Good.

She was expecting my call. Apparently you told her to stay nailed to her seat until she heard from me. She sounded pretty hungry. I told her she could go to lunch now.

Tori laughed. I figured you might want to check up on me.

Cole picked up the cheeseburger, then put it back down. Tori, can you give me the address for the Thomases here in Manhattan?

Tori glanced up from her plate. What?

Cole knew damn well she had heard the question. He had hoped she would make it easy for him and give up the address easily, but it was naive to think that, he now realized. I want the address of those people you found in Manhattan. The Thomases. My grandparents.

Tori shook her head in disbelief. You mean you didnt know about them?

No, he said quietly.

She shook her head again. So they were telling me the truth. They really hadnt heard from Mary in all those years. I thought maybe they were just throwing me a curve to get rid of me.

She reached across the table and touched his hand gently. I cant believe your mother and father didnt tell you who your grandparents were.

Well, believe it. Cole glanced away. Growing up, he had always been jealous of those children who had a mother, a father and two sets of grandparents, especially at holiday times.

Im sorry. Tori squeezed his hand. I shouldnt have spoken that way. Its just that

Its okay, Cole interrupted. But you could really help me if youd give me their address.

Tori released his hand and straightened in the seat. What about your mother? Where is she? Can I talk to her? The questions came rapid-fire.

Id like to talk to my mother, too, Cole retorted, but shes dead.

Oh. Tori hesitated only a moment.

When did she die?

I dont think thats any of your business.

I guess not, she said. What about the film, Cole? She was pressing him, anxious to wrap him up before someone else got to him. The one your father took from Andrea Sage.

I told you, I dont know anything about a film! Now are you going to give me the Thomases address?

No.

You He stopped himself abruptly. Fine, Ill call information and get their number myself.

That wont help, she said quickly. Their number is unlisted. Tori put a finger to her forehead. But heres an idea. You could get the home address Mary Thomas gave the clerk in Dallas on the day of the marriage. She grimaced, as if her pain were real. On second thought, thatll be hard to do. My friend in Dallas pulled those public records and destroyed themfor a small fee, of course. Tori smiled at Cole. You look so angry, and I dont like that.

I cant believe you wont give me the address. Cole slammed his fist down on the table. Theyre my grandparents, for Christs sake! I want to meet them before they die. Or I do, he thought to himself.

Toris smile disappeared as she leaned over the table. And Id like to break a big story before I die, she hissed. In case you havent heard, thats how people get ahead in the news business. Ive been struggling for years to get the suits at NBC to recognize me. Oh yeah, we like her work. Thats what they say. Thats tantamount to Shes a second-stringer. Well, I want more than that. I want to break a big story. I want some respect and, dammit, yes Ill admit it, some glory. This could be one of the biggest stories of the decade, maybe ever. She paused. I dont think youre telling me everything, Cole. You come clean with me, and Ill give you the Thomases address. Short of that, Ill give you a hint. They live on the East Side between Fortieth and Ninetieth. Thats about a million people to cull your way through. Thats assuming I gave you the right name. Good luck.

Cole rose slowly from the table, pulled out his wallet, took a twenty from inside and dropped the bill on the table. Thanks for lunch, he said evenly, then walked to the door and out onto Broadway.

POWERFUL GUSTS PICKED up loose paper and discarded wrappers from the sidewalk and whipped them into small cyclonestrash devils, as they were called in Manhattan. Cole muttered to himself as he pulled his overcoat up around his face, leaned forward against the autumn wind and hurried down Broadway. Tori Brown. How selfish could you be? Withholding information about someones family in the name of breaking a news story. He turned onto Forty-Seventh Street.

Hello, Cole. A large man in a dark suit and sunglasses stepped away from a parked limousine and moved directly into Coles path.

Cole stopped, recognizing the man from the Blue Moon, then turned around to sprint back to Broadway. But he ran directly into a second man who grabbed him by the arm tightly.

Were going to take a little ride, the second man said in a thick Brooklyn accent, smiling as if this interruption were nothing Cole needed to worry about.

Cole forced a smile in return. A little friendly outing, right? Maybe well take in a show and a nice dinner later, just the three of us.

Maybe. The second man hustled Cole over the sidewalk to the limousine. The first man had already opened a back door, and Cole ducked as the second man pushed him in. The two men followed Cole inside and slammed the door shut, and the black Cadillac squealed away from the curb.

Where have you been lately, Cole? The first man sat on the seat opposite Cole. He removed his leather gloves and tossed them down. Weve been looking for you.

Cole spotted a pistol in the shoulder holster beneath the mans unbuttoned jacket. I took a friend home to Minnesota. Her colleague was killed in an explosion at my apartment.

We heard about that, the second man, who sat next to Cole, remarked indifferently. We were glad it wasnt you. Then we couldnt have gotten our money back. And contrary to what you might think, we really do want it back. All of it. He grinned. Were going to have some fun this afternoon making that point very clear.

I know you want it back. Unless he came up with ninety-nine thousand dollars plus interest before the limousine reached its destination, it looked like he was in for a rough afternoon.

As they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, the first man spoke up again. You know, Frankie, he said to his companion as he gazed out the window at New York Harbor, I read somewhere recently that this bridge first opened all the way back in 1883. And I think it was the first suspension bridge in the United States.

Yeah? Frankie, the man on the seat next to Cole, obviously had no interest in the bridges history or its construction.

Yeah. And I read that on the day it opened, the city had a big parade. When the people at the front of the parade got halfway across the bridge, a rumor started that the cables were beginning to snap and, like, six people got killed in the stampede.

I think you read too much, Sal. Frankie pulled two sticks of gum from his pocket, tore off the wrappers and shoved them in his mouth. What do you think, Wall Street boy?

Cole didnt answer. The partition between the driver and passenger compartments was open and he was staring through the windshield, concentrating intently on the road ahead.

Hey! Frankie kicked Cole in the ankle with the point of his sharp boot. I asked you a question.

Jesus Christ! Cole bent over and grabbed his ankle. It was the same ankle he had sprained in his collision with the taxicab and it was still sore. I didnt hear you, he groaned.

Frankie and Sal shared a harsh laugh.

You better get used to that kind of thing, pal, Frankie warned. Unless youve recently come into some cash.

The limousine coasted to a gentle stop. Two lanes of eastbound traffic were closed due to construction on the bridge, and the line of cars waiting to move into the single open lane was long.

Instantly Cole lunged for the door away from Frankie. He had seen the traffic tie-up ahead through the open partition and anticipated the opportunity. He hadnt heard any doors lock as they squealed away from the curb back in Manhattan, and he prayed that somehow the driver had overlooked that responsibility. Coles prayers were answered as the handle gave way and the door sprang open. He pulled himself through the door, rolled onto the blacktop, scrambled to his feet, slammed the limousine door on Frankies hand as the man tried to follow, then hobbled back toward Manhattan. As he ran past a plain-looking four-door sedan idling behind the limousine, the sedans driver-side rear door opened suddenly, slamming into Coles chest and legs. He fell to the blacktop, the breath knocked from his lungs by the impact. He lay for a moment in the fetal position, gasping for air, then was pulled roughly into the sedan. Suddenly there was metal pressed to the side of his neck. The sedans driver jumped out from behind the wheel, slammed the back door shut, then slid back behind the wheel and followed the limousine as traffic began to move forward once more.

I wouldnt try that again, a voice warned.

Cole opened his eyes.

The man beside Cole on the backseat smiled as he forced the barrel of a revolver against Coles jaw.

You guys are always smiling, Cole gasped. You just hear a good joke or something? Or are you just happy people? Maybe they should call you happyguys instead of wiseguys.

The man said nothing as he brought the gun down from Coles face.

Well, I hope youre as much fun to be with as the guys in the other car were, Cole said, still trying to catch his breath.

The man shoved the gun into his coat. I thought I saw you catch Frankies hand in that door when you slammed it shut. Did you? he asked.

Oxygen finally began to seep back into Coles chest. Maybe.

The man shook his head. That should make things interesting. Frankies got a helluva temper.

Minutes later the limousine and the sedan pulled up behind a warehouse deep in Brooklyn. Frankie stepped out of the limo and ambled casually to the sedan, then jerked the sedan door open and yanked Cole out by the wrist.

Over there. Frankie pointed at a door Sal was holding open.

Cole noticed black-and-blue marks on Frankies hands that had been made by the door slamming shut.

For several minutes Cole followed Sal through a labyrinth of hallways. Then Frankies unhurt hand clamped down on Coles shoulder, pivoted his body to the right and pushed him into a dimly lit smoke-filled office. Behind a decrepit wooden desk was another man Cole recognized from the Blue Moona man who was clearly senior to the ones who had ridden in the limousine and the sedan. The others nodded to this man deferentially as they crowded into the small room, but he didnt bother acknowledging them.

The man motioned for Cole to sit down in a ratty armchair in front of the desk. His crop of meticulously combed silver hair and his tiny brown eyes glinted in the light from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. You want anything to drink? His voice was predictably tough but, unlike the others, he spoke with only a slight Brooklyn accent.