The Schwarzschild Radius (50 page)

Damn prick got away. But no sign of Rachel, either, and that meant she was probably still alive. It would have been too easy to just find him lying on the tracks nice and dead for pickup and delivery. This bastard was going to put McKenna to a lot of trouble, and he wanted to be the guy to put the bullet through Brazos’ heart, if he had one.

t Lincoln Hospital, Olivia was recovering from surgery. Her feet had required ninety-seven stitches.

McKenna knocked at the open door. Her parents were by her bed. He hated delivering bad news to parents.

“Detective, come in,” said Ed Wallen. “Anything?”

“I’m afraid the tunnels were a dead end. He was gone. But Rachel was gone, too, so she seems valuable enough to him to keep her alive. I’d like to ask Olivia a few more questions, if you don’t mind.” Ed Wallen gave him his seat.

“How are you doing, kid?”

“I’ll live.”

“I saw Joules outside.”

“He’s still working on those files.”

“He’s got a job with the department when he graduates. I just don’t think we can afford him.” He took out his pad and pen. “Feel up to a few more questions?”

She nodded.

“During the time you spent in the tunnel, did Brazos ever give any indication that he had another hideout? Or maybe more than one house where he lived?”

“Nothing like that.”

“Did he ever mention another person? Someone he might be working with?”

“No. There were just those men on the other side of the camera. The foreigners that he called Client Number One, Two, Three.”

“How do you know they were foreigners?”

“He said at one point, ‘The skin is like pearl as you like it in the East.’ In the West, they like tanned skin. And it’s true that in the East they compare white skin to pearl.”

“You said he would leave periodically and come back. Any idea where he went when he left the tunnels?”

“I know he owned a bar in Long Beach. I just figured he worked his job and came back on his off hours.”

McKenna started thinking about what he’d like to do to Clients One through Three when Joules appeared in the doorway.

“Detective, I need to show you something.”

He motioned him inside.

Joules put the laptop on the nightstand and brought up Rachel’s email.

There was a message with the subject “Flight.”

“This is from Achara. She says she’s arriving on Singapore flight 3244 at 5:30 p.m. today. That’s thirty-five minutes ago. The original flight was Cathay Pacific.”

“She wasn’t on the Cathay Pacific flight,” said McKenna. “We saw the later email with the new flight.”

Joules opened Yahoo Messenger and entered Achara’s ID and password, which he had broken.

There was one offline message from Rachel.

I’ll be waiting for you, baby.

“This is time-stamped 10:14 p.m. two nights ago,” said Joules. “Rachel was already missing for nearly ten hours.” He looked at McKenna.

“Rachel didn’t write that.”

cKenna made a call to JFK Airport security telling them to detain a girl carrying a passport with the name Olivia Wallen. After a long wait, his face fell.

“She went through Immigration ten minutes ago.”

A disheveled man with a bouquet of flowers and a placard saying,
OLIVIA WALLEN,
waited at the arrivals area. The plane was on time, and that was good because he didn’t have much to spare. Just standing was an effort.

He observed as the passengers of flight 3244 exited the door. There were some nice looking Singaporean and Thai girls. Assuming she made it through Immigration, she would be coming out just about now.

When Achara appeared, he made his way through the crowd and flashed a smile as she made eye contact with him. He handed over the bouquet and said, “Welcome, Achara. I’m Robert, a friend of Olivia. She sent me to take you home.”

Her face lit up and she embraced Robert.

“Thank you, thank you. My journey is over. Where is Olivia?”

“She’s home waiting for you with her family. They have a big reception for you. Big celebration.”

As they walked out of the terminal, Robert kept up the conversation.

“It’s a long trip, eh? You must be very tired.”

“No. Not tired. Happy. Very happy. But you look tired.”

“I worked late last night. Did you have dinner on the plane?”

“They serve chicken. Very good.”

“I think you’ll like the food in America. You like pizza?”

“Never have.”

“Oh, you’ll like it. It’s my favorite food. I eat pizza four times a week.”

“Olivia house far?”

“About an hour from here. There was a lot of traffic from that direction, so they asked me to pick you up. I live in Manhattan and there’s no traffic from there at this time. Easier for me and I can get you home faster.”

“Oh. So nice.”

“Well you look just like your sister―just as beautiful.”

“No. Only flowers are beautiful. But I happy.”

They took a cab to the JFK long-term parking lot, about two miles away on Lefferts Boulevard. When they stepped into the parking lot, there were few people in sight. An elevator took them to the fourth floor. Now there was no one and their footsteps echoed against the cold concrete walls.

“My car is just over here. Almost there.”

Achara smelled the roses.

He opened the back of the van and threw Achara’s knapsack into it. Then he slammed his fist into her stomach, crumpling her. He tossed her into the back and stuck a gun in her face.

“Make any sound and I’ll kill you and your sister. I have her, too.”