underground railroad.”
Ruth shook her head and kept her weapon trained on him.
“Frank.” she said. “You can't be doing this on your own.”
“I have help.”
“You need different help. Police help. That recording is enough.”
“It's enough to bring me down with the rest of them.”
“So?” she shouted. “So? Your reputation comes second to the lives of these women.”
Another voice came from behind her.
“All this time.” said Yancy. “And neither of us could see the truth.”
Ruth saw two men who weren't Yancy approach her. Each were pointed the barrels of their guns at her one. One looked very much like Frank. It must have been Yancy's brother. Then Yancy himself appeared. He walked in between Ruth and her husband, so that now the end of Ruth's pistol was aimed at him. The man was wearing the same hat and vest as the previous night, although the pattern of his flannel had changed.
He said, “This man doesn't want to put his dick in girls; he wants to save them.”
“At least he's got some decency in him.”
“Except he doesn't want to be a hero. He wants to be seen as one.”
Yancy made a motion and the two armed men closed the distance between themselves and Ruth. They came close enough that she could see the muzzles of their assault rifles from her peripheral vision.
Yancy said, “Call your friends if you want. We'll be gone by the time they get here.”
Ruth put her gun back in its holster. She watched as Yancy climbed off the platform and into the truck's passenger seat. Without looking at Ruth, Frank exited the back of the truck and closed it again. He pulled himself into the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove off. Ruth watched them go. Then she felt a shove against and her back and before she knew it she was falling. She tumbled off the edge of the platform and fell into the gravel below. She flipped over on her back and saw the two men staring down at her. They turned and walked away.
Ruth stood and ran for her car. Before getting in, she looked up to see where the truck was going. They were following a siding and it came to an end at a track that bowed outward away from her. With each passing yard they were getting further away from her. For a moment she considered the forty four ton switcher engine behind which her car was parked. Following its track with her eyes, she could see that it joined the other curved track. Beyond that, the road along the track passed under some pylon which carried the Massachusetts Turnpike before crossing over the track and coming to an end at Storrow Drive. The engine was hitched to a line of cars. If it were possible to start it, she might be able to cut off the truck before it exited the yard. It was just a thought, and one that Ruth quickly dismissed. She didn't know how to operate a freight train. Even if she did, there was the chance of ramming it into the truck and killing all those women inside as well as her husband.
She decided instead to do the only thing she could do, which was race along the track in her cruiser. She had the advantage that the truck had to following a longer route. It was large and needed a more developed road, especially to protect its delicate cargo. Ruth, only the other hand, could follow the track without any road at all. She sped that way and calculated that she just might meet them at the point where they'd have to cross the tracks, before they would be able to exit the yard.
Then she noticed something big looming behind her. It was the engine and all its cars. Someone had started it up and was now following her. Ruth was traveling faster, but not by much. She was bouncing over the uneven gravel and mud, leaving the ground a few times before slamming into it again. There was no way a train that size could catch up with her on such a short straightaway. That did not mean it wasn't a threat. She still had to engage Yancy somehow.
She reached the meeting point ahead of schedule. She watched the truck come at her head on from the other side of the tracks. Ruth pulled her pistol and fired. She hit the tire and the truck came to a halt. To her right, the freight train was still barreling in their direction. Yancy appeared with Frank in tow. He threw the other man on the ground and pointed his own weapon at Frank's head. Frank sat there, knees in the mud and hands raised over his head like the imminent victim of an execution.
Ruth held the gun with one hand and with the other she reached for her radio.
Yancy yelled, “I wouldn't do that. Take this.”
He reached in a pocket of his vest and produced that earring again. He tossed it over the tracks and it landed at Ruth's feet.
“Your husband has a habit of losing things.” he said. “I told you that.”
“So?”
“So.” said Yancy. “That includes his house keys.”
Ruth's phone rang. She pulled it out and there was a picture message. She recognized the number. It was the first number Frank had showed to her last night. It was Kathy's number. Majestic. That dancer at Centerfolds who had met them in that back room. Frank had said he was sleeping with her, but now Ruth knew that wasn't true. Instead, she was sending picture messages to Ruth.
A picture of Jason. Jason was sleeping in his crib with a tulip laying on his forehead.
The phone rang again. This time it was a call. Ruth answered.
“I'm sorry.” said Kathy's voice. “Your son it still alive, but not for long.”
“Go.” said Yancy. “Go now.”
The train was now only a few yards away. It's rumbling was so loud that Yancy had to shout.
“One more thing.” he said. “If you don't destroy that recording, you will see me again.”
The train passed between them. Ruth was helpless as she watched the scene unfold in stunted clips and gaps between the rail cars. Yancy pushed his pistol into the back of Frank's head. Ruth heard shots fired. Shots fired. Twice, but she only heard them. When the next gap appeared, Frank was laying face first in the mud.
TWENTY ONE
When Rosalind arrived at work, the office greeted her with the unnerving silence of a mid-morning weekday without any bustle. Most of the employees were absent and those who were present were secreted away in their own worlds. Cass was talking to someone on a headset. George Simon was in the lab with a strange man and a kid. Nagel was standing in the common area on the other side of the half wall. He was sweaty and trying to still his nervous hands by keeping them in his pockets. Rosalind spotted Marianne Madora, Dale's partner from Blue Water. She was in the conference room with Reggie. The blue light blinked on the ceiling, indicating a problem with the security or fire system. Half the the regular lights were out, casting the place in a sort of indoor twilight.
Dale appeared from these shadows carrying a paper cup with a plastic lid. He was the first to acknowledge Rosalind's presence. He placed the cup on the half wall and opened his arms, as if about to hug her. Rosalind stepped back. She wasn't sure what to make of this public display of affection.
“It's over.” he said. “Marianne is telling Reggie everything.”
Nagel said, “I came in and that's what's what was going on.”
Rosalind took a deep breath and shook her head. She had spent so much time keeping track of her own people that she hadn't expected one of the Blue Water people might betray them, least of all the woman who seemed to want this deal the most. It was certain that Polymath would not survive this day in its present form. That didn't frighten her. More pressing on her mind were the dangerous legal consequences of a game that she was never all that well equipped to play.
Her first thought was that maybe she should leave and never come back. Then she considered Dale, standing there with a dumb look and his arms outstretched. Dale had always been sentimental and in search of a larger emotional interaction than she was prepared to yield.
Rosalind said, “How could she?”
“Things have gone very wrong for her. She's got some new thoughts about her life.”
“Does she have to ta
ke us with her?”
“What's done is done.” said Dale.
His statement was simple and it was correct. Rosalind accepted Dale's embrace. It felt good to her. If one were to ask Rosalind before today what Dale Benedict meant to her, she'd say that she was seeing him romantically. She wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded less juvenile that saying that she was dating him. Their relationship had begun just as Lucie's illness had entered its final stage and Rosalind had pursued it at her sister's suggestion. Seeing Dale and feeling this way about him was another reason for Rosalind to miss her sister. Lucie understood things that no one else could. This was not the first time she'd dared Rosalind to step into the dark, nor the first time she had been right to do so.
Rosalind had earned her bachelors in math, which lead to a doctorate in quantitative finance. She used to create derivative models for private equity firms. It was her job to feed mountains of data into impenetrable mathematical bulwarks and calculate the price of things that no ne could price. Her employers paid her well and respected her, but promotions were rare. Her problem was that she was always testing her intellect, moving from department to department and mastering new skills. She didn't like the idea of becoming a specialist. There was too much to know. Her generous curiosity ensured that she would never become known for any one thing, and this never become known at all.
When the financial panic struck, she struck out on