Tiberius Found

CHAPTER 17

  Two things had happened by the time the cab containing William Cross pulled up outside the Antoine Bakery and Deli: the pain-killing injection the paramedics had given him had begun to wear off, and the lack of red dots on his phone’s display told him that Daniel and Eleanor had long since gone.

  ‘Wait here,’ Cross told the driver. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  Cross shuffled along the seat and opened the door. He gripped onto it and stepped onto the sidewalk, dragging his broken leg out behind him. He let out a grunt as the gel-splint touched the paving slabs.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ the driver muttered, leaning out of the window, ‘it looks as if you need a doc more than you need a cappuccino.’

  Cross slammed the door closed. ‘Just wait here.’

  He half-limped, half-hopped into the deli and a quick scan confirmed that Daniel and the girl were no longer there. He made his way over to a high table by the front window, rested on the back on a tall chair and called one of the waitresses over. His broken leg had started to bleed and it left small trails of blood across the tiled floor.

  ‘Hi, my name’s Anne,’ the waitress began, a smile on her face, ‘what can I—’ her face creased when she saw Cross’s broken leg, the adhesive pad on his head and his blood-stained shirt ‘—get for you? Oh my God, are you alright?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Cross replied, his accent now American. Sweat glistened off his brow and he winced every time the inflated splint touched the floor. He took out a wallet, flipped it open and flashed a badge with the words Homeland Security etched onto it. ‘But I need your help. A little while ago there were two kids in here – a guy; short brown hair, and a girl; mixed-race – did you see them?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Anne answered, ‘about fifteen, twenty minutes ago, I guess.’

  ‘Where’d they go, did you see?’

  ‘No. They just left and each got into a cab, I think.’

  ‘They got different cabs? You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Pretty sure.’

  ‘Did you hear where they went?’

  ‘No. They were out on the street. Look, do you wanna sit down?’

  Cross shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘They did seem pretty upset at the news though,’ Anne continued.

  ‘The news? What about the news?’

  ‘On the TV. There was something on about an old guy, a Brit I think, who’d been arrested for killin’ someone or something. I wasn’t really listening. The guy, the young guy I mean, seemed to be real upset by it. I think he made a call and then they left. It looked as if they’d had an argument or something ‘cos the girl was crying when she got in the cab.’

  Cross eased himself away from the chair and limped back outside.

  ‘Do you want me to call 911 for you?’ Anne asked as Cross made his way through the door.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘No, that’s okay. My next stop’s gonna be the hospital.’

  He shuffled over to the cab and opened the passenger door, easing himself back onto the seat. ‘Cornell Medical Center,’ he told the driver. ‘As fast as you like.’

  The driver pulled away from the curb and merged in with the traffic. Cross tapped at his phone again. ‘It’s me,’ he said when the call was answered. ‘There’s been a development.’

  Daniel sat at a terminal in Pickford’s Aladdin’s cave and studied the series of building schematics displayed on the screen. Pickford sat on his high stool close by, tapping away at his keyboard with his one good hand.

  ‘What’s so important about this Brinkley House anyways?’ Pickford asked.

  ‘I thought that you didn’t like asking questions?’ Daniel replied.

  ‘That must be my slightly less handsome twin brother you’re thinking of. Right, it’s loaded.’ He tapped at the keyboard once more and a holographic, three-dimensional image of Brinkley House rose out of the perspex table. ‘I’ve synched it with your cell.’

  The top two floors were opaque.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Daniel asked. ‘Why haven’t those floors loaded properly?’

  Pickford tapped away at the keyboard again. ‘Shielded somehow. I guess they don’t want people knowing what’s on the upper two levels. What’s the building plan say?’

  Daniel sifted through the documents on his screen. ‘They stop at twenty-three, but this lift shaft—’ he dipped his finger into the hologram ‘—sorry; this elevator shaft, continues going up.’

  ‘Then that’s where you’ll find the guy you’re after. The boss always likes to go high. It’s a status thing.’

  Daniel turned to look at him. ‘So why are you stuck in a basement?’

  ‘Do I look like the kinda guy who’s comfortable with heights?’

  Daniel smiled as he turned back to the hologram. ‘The ground floor looks to be pretty well guarded; only one way in and through an E-M machine, no direct sewer access, no … anything access. It’s the tallest building for a quarter mile radius so no getting onto it from anywhere close.’

  ‘If only banks were this secure, huh?’

  Luca laughed on cue.

  ‘An army couldn’t take this place,’ Pickford told Daniel. ‘I don’t know what you’ve got going on in that nut of yours but if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then it’s gonna be suicide.’

  ‘Thanks for having a little faith.’

  ‘Hey, kid, if you go and get yourself killed then I’ve lost a good customer. I’m just worried about the family business.’

  Daniel gave a brief laugh. ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘You see, you’re talking like a native already.’ Pickford shifted on his stool. ‘Look, kid; I’m serious. Whoever runs a building like this is playing by their own rules and I’m guessing that whatever you’ve got planned is gonna piss them off.’

  ‘Yes,’ Daniel said under his breath. ‘It will.’

  ‘So what I’m saying is that maybe you shouldn’t do whatever you’re gonna to do by yourself.’

  Daniel frowned. ‘I couldn’t ask you to help. Besides …’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ Pickford laughed, ‘like I’d be any good.’

  ‘Then who –’ Daniel turned to look at Luca.

  ‘And don’t go getting no ideas about him, neither,’ Pickford said.

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Just that I’ll keep tabs on you, you know, if you want me to.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If you keep the mobile with you; I’ll know where you are.’

  ‘You said the phone couldn’t be tracked.’

  Pickford gave him a crooked smile. ‘I had the software written, remember? And any good software has a back door, right? Only one person knows how to track the un-trackable, and you’re lookin’ at him.’

  ‘You’re a remarkable man, Pickford.’

  ‘That’s what I kept tellin’ my ex but she never believe me.’

  ‘What good would it be just you knowing where I am?’

  ‘Give me your cell,’ Pickford asked holding out his good hand.

  Daniel passed it to him. Pickford opened it up and took out the SIM card. ‘One of the things I can do is link your location to the cell’s. It’ll act as its own GPS but tagged only to you. We put a drop of your blood through one of my gizmos in the back room and link it to the cell’s SIM. It’ll show where you are and, more importantly, how you are as long as you stay close to it.’

  ‘How close?’

  ‘Maybe a quarter mile. Give or take.’

  ‘But you still wouldn’t be able to do anything.’

  ‘Being invisible is one thing, kid, but never underestimate the power of someone knowing where you are or how you are. It just depends on who that person is.’ Pickford shuffled again on his stool. ‘You want me to call anyone? You know, should the worse happen?’

  Daniel’s head filled with an image of Eleanor in the back seat of the cab leaving the deli, with tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, it’s probably best not to.’
br />   ‘Up to you.’ He turned to Luca. ‘Go get the medi-kit, will ya?’

  ‘Sure thing, boss.’

  ‘If the worse does happen,’ Daniel began after Luca had left, ‘then there is something I’d like you to do.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘If I can’t stop the man who runs this place,’ Daniel said pointing at the hologram of Brinkley House, ‘then I want you to do it for me. And I can pay. The rest of my money is in a deposit box at First Union. The number is –’

  ‘Look, kid,’ Pickford interrupted. ‘I’m a great believer in the power of positive thought. Geez, look at me; where d’you think I’d be, if I wasn’t? If you start thinking that you’re gonna fail then somehow you’ll find a way. Guaranteed. Besides, if you really wanna give me some more cash then you could always tip me when you get back.’

  ‘How about I give you something now?’ Daniel wrote down a series of items on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to Pickford. ‘I’m hoping that you’ve got all of these in stock.’

  Pickford nodded slowly as he started to read the list. ‘Damn, kid. You’re pretty serious about this, huh?’

  ‘They’re only things I need to get it done.’

  Pickford held the paper up. ‘When you ask for crazy things like this,’ he tapped at the second item on the list, ‘what do you think it says about you?’

  ‘That I’m determined?’

  ‘Nah. That’s not it. Crazy is as crazy does.’ The next item on the list made Pickford whistle. ‘Where did you ever hear about A.I. hack programmes?’

  ‘I’ve done a lot of reading lately,’ Daniel smiled. ‘Can you load it onto the phone?’

  Pickford returned Daniel’s smile. ‘You come across as such a smart kid but then you ruin it by askin’ stupid questions like that.’

  ‘So that was a “yes” then, right?’

  ‘I’ve told you: I can do anything, I can get anything. I got all of this stuff. I’ve even got a nice little Glock out back, if you’re interested. It’s beautiful. Porcelain and polymer; you could get it through customs no problem.’

  Daniel gave a brief laugh. ‘Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.’ He shook his head. ‘No guns.’

  ‘Those guys are gonna have them.’ Pickford nodded at the hologram of Brinkley House. ‘Guaranteed.’

  ‘That’s what makes me not one of them.’

  The polymer cast encased Cross’s left leg from thigh to ankle and the large dressing on his head had been replaced with a small adhesive pad. By the time he wheeled himself out through the front entrance of the Cornell Medical Center into the morning light, the colourful bruises on his face made it look as if he’d gone ten rounds with the World Heavyweight Champion.

  The blood from his head wound had stained his shirt a coppery-brown colour.

  ‘You really ought to stay another night, Mr Peterson,’ the nurse who followed him out begged. She carried a pair of padded crutches. ‘You’re in no fit state to be out of hospital.’

  ‘You’ve had me for a day,’ Cross replied. A trio of Cabs were parked off to one side and he waved at the nearest one. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ the nurse continued. ‘You have concussion. You also have a hair-line fracture of your left cheekbone. You’re in no fit state –’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he repeated and tapped at his coat pocket. Pills rattled in a container. ‘These’ll do the job. Besides, what are you going to do? Put my head in a cast?’

  The cab pulled up in front of Cross. The driver got out and opened the rear door.

  ‘Mr Peterson,’ the nurse said in a sterner voice. ‘We cannot be held responsible for you should you suffer a relapse.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Cross asked the driver. ‘That’s them telling me that I can’t sue if I die.’

  The driver smiled and helped Cross from the wheelchair into the cab. The nurse handed the driver the crutches with a frown, and without another word spun on her heel and walked back into the hospital.

  ‘Looks like you’ve made a friend,’ the cab driver said as he passed the crutches to Cross.

  ‘What can I say; it’s a complicated relationship.’ He opened the bottle of pills and tipped several into his mouth.

  The driver eased the door closed and re-took his place behind the wheel. ‘Where to, buddy?’

  Cross tapped at his phone and when he was sure the information it was giving him was accurate said, ‘Bensonhurst. Twenty-two seventeen, 79th Street.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you keep the ride smooth.’

  ‘Yes, sir. It’ll be like floating on air.’

  The First Class flight attendant made her last pass along the aisle before the Captain was due to announce their final approach into London, and offered Champagne to the seven people sitting in the plush surroundings. Only the dark-haired young man with the first bloom of a moustache declined the offer.

  Daniel gazed through the window of the British United flight and thought about all that had happened in the short time since he last flew across the Atlantic; so short a time, yet his world had changed beyond measure. On his lap lay a book which he’d printed out an hour before the flight left America – Pressure Points and How to Use Them. Customs at JFK had barely glanced at his boarding slip – not even questioning that he now sported a moustache – and he expected nothing less when he arrived at Heathrow.

  First Class passengers, it seemed, were not treated the same as regular travellers; a privilege was extended to them that raised them above the masses and Customs treated them as some sort of royalty.

  He was delayed for no more than twenty seconds at Heathrow while his DNA card was passed through a reader. Ten minutes after leaving the plane he was sitting in the cab he’d booked, heading east on the M4 en route to a London hotel. He eased the moustache away from his lip and scratched at where it had been.

  The sun was breaking free of the horizon; a new dawn, a new day. Perhaps it was going to be another new start?

  Cross was as good as his word and passed over a number of fifty-dollar bills when the driver eased the cab up outside the house in Bensonhurst. ‘Wait for me,’ he said. ‘I doubt if this’ll take long.’

  ‘Sure thing. You want me to get the door?’

  ‘No, no. I’ve got it.’ Cross pushed the cab door open, maneuvered himself onto the pavement and hobbled up to the front door of twenty-two seventeen. He leaned against the mesh frame covering the door and rang the bell. Sweat glistened on his brow and he tipped another couple of tablets into his mouth.

  When Eleanor’s mother saw the injured and bloodied man standing on front of her porch her eyes widened. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

  Cross showed her the same badge he displayed in the deli. ‘Sorry to bother you, ma’am,’ he said, ‘but I was wondering if whether your daughter was at home.’

  ‘Eleanor? Yes she is. Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘There’s nothing to be concerned about. I just need to ask her a few questions about an incident that occurred yesterday.’

  ‘An incident? You mean the car crash she saw?’

  Cross gave a rueful smile. ‘That’s the one. May I come in?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course.’ She fumbled with the door as Cross hobbled into the house. ‘Please, go straight on through. Eleanor’s upstairs.’

  ‘If it’s at all possible,’ Cross said, ‘I’d like to talk with her alone.’

  ‘I see. You’d better use the front parlour then. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘No thank you, ma’am. I just need to speak with your daughter.’

  ‘Of course. Well, I’ll fetch Eleanor for you then.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Cross made his way into the room which over-looked the road and stood to one side of the door, in the corner, so that Eleanor wouldn’t see him the moment she came into the room. He closed the door.

  Muted conversation in French drifted down through
the house: Eleanor was questioning her mother on who the visitor was. When her mother mentioned the car crash, the emotion behind Eleanor’s words changed. From her tone Cross could tell she was already suspicious. She told her mother to get everyone into the back room.

  A few moments later the door to the room opened and Eleanor stepped in. Cross slammed the door shut behind her and maneuvered himself in front of it. Eleanor screamed. She swung a punch at Cross which he half-deflected with a crutch.

  She kicked hard against the plaster on his leg. Cross grunted in pain and pushed her away into the room, his crutch falling to the carpet.

  ‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ he said holding out a hand. ‘Really.’

  ‘You were the one in the car,’ she stated. ‘You’re the one who’s trying to kill Daniel.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Sweat dripped off Cross’s brow. ‘If I was trying to kill him then why did I crash my car trying to protect you?’

  It took Eleanor a moment to react. ‘What?’

  ‘The other car would’ve smashed into both of you at the diner; you wouldn’t have stood a chance. I was trying to protect him yesterday just as I’m trying to do now—’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘—But to do that right I’m going to need your help.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Eleanor repeated, and lashed out at him again. ‘You’re just trying to trick me.’

  Cross deflected her hand once more. ‘I am not here to hurt you,’ he told her, ‘but if you kick my leg again I might just forget my orders.’

  He pushed her back into the room then fumbled with the bottle of pain-killers in his pocket. He prised off the lid and tipped three of the yellow pills into his mouth, crunching them with his teeth. He grimaced. ‘God, these taste bad.’

  ‘Daniel said that you’d threatened to hurt me if he didn’t do what you wanted.’

  ‘Not me, but that sounds like the sort of thing a man named Gregory Dryden would do.’

  Eleanor’s eyes widened.

  ‘I see that he’s told you about him,’ Cross panted. ‘That’s good because it’ll make this easier. My name is William Cross,’ he told her. ‘It may not mean much to you but there’s only a handful of people in the world who know my real name, and now you’re one of them.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she replied, ‘it doesn’t mean anything to me.’

  ‘Eleanor,’ Cross sighed. ‘I need to know where Daniel is.’

  ‘I’ve no idea where he is. And even if I did, why should I tell you?’

  ‘Because if you don’t Dryden will kill him, if he’s lucky. Eleanor! Listen to me; I need to know where Daniel is.’

  ‘I’ve told you; I don’t know!’

  ‘Then what did you talk about at the deli before you got into separate cabs?’

  Eleanor backed away a few more steps. ‘How do you know about the deli?’

  Cross took a breath. ‘A few days ago I planted some tracking devices on Daniel without him knowing,’ he told her. ‘They were working fine until something masked their signal. When you were at the deli they came back online for a couple of minutes but then they stopped again. I have to know what happened there.’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘Nothing? At all?’

  ‘No. I was … I was shook up about what had happened at the diner. I made Daniel tell me what was going on. He said that this man Dryden was after him. Daniel said that when he’d started trying to find out who he was, Dryden knew about it and shut down the terminals he’d been using.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘He said that Dryden told him that he’d get me if Daniel didn’t give himself up. I was worried for mom so when Daniel went to the restroom I called home to make sure she was okay.’

  ‘No,’ Cross said, shaking his head, ‘you didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘I would’ve known if you’d made any calls. I lost track of Daniel at the weekend so I followed you. I saw you two together at the library and knew that he’d contact you. I tapped into your phone; your cell. You didn’t make any calls from the deli.’

  ‘You bugged my cell?’

  ‘Bugging your phone saved your life, young lady! Hold on,’ Cross muttered. ‘Wait a minute. Whose phone did you use in the deli?’

  ‘Daniel’s; when he went to the restroom.’

  Cross closed his eyes as the realisation hit him. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered, more to himself than to Eleanor. ‘Where did he get his phone from?’

  ‘Some back-street dealer, I think.’

  Cross nodded. ‘In Chinatown?’

  ‘I … I think so.’

  ‘Okay, so you made the call to your mom then what?’

  ‘I … nothing. We talked about what had happened and …’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘And then Daniel saw a report on the news.’

  ‘Professor Cuthberts’ getting arrested.’

  Eleanor’s eyes widened a fraction more. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Daniel said that Dryden had arrested the old man to make him go back to England. So Daniel called him.’

  ‘Called who?’

  ‘Dryden.’

  ‘Nobody can just call him, unless …’ Cross nodded again as the logic made sense. ‘Daniel used his own cell, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you know what was said?’

  Eleanor sat down on a chair; her lips pursed and a frown creasing her brow.

  ‘Eleanor, this is important. What did they talk about? You have to trust me. I’m trying to help.’

  ‘Daniel said that he was going back and that Dryden would be sorry,’ she began to cry. ‘He said that if he went to England then they’d have no need to come after me.’

  ‘Idiot!’ Cross took out his phone and tapped the screen. The call rang and rang. ‘Come on, come on.’ Cross muttered. Eventually his call was answered. ‘It’s me. Tiberius is heading home.’ The reply was brief. ‘No, he may already be there. You’ll have to watch him from now on. I’ll send you the frequency the tracking beacons are set to.’

  Cross paused as he listened to the answer. ‘I can’t. There are some loose ends over here. I’m going to stay and see if they tie up. Call me when you have anything.’

  Cross ended the call.

  ‘So, William Cross, if you don’t work for Dryden who do you work for?’ Eleanor asked.

  Cross slipped the phone back into his jacket. ‘Someone else,’ he said. He reached down and picked up his crutch. ‘It’s best you don’t know.’

  He turned to the door, struggled with the handle but eventually pulled it open.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Eleanor said getting to her feet. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’ Cross hobbled out into the hallway.

  ‘So now what?’ Eleanor said following him out.

  ‘Nothing. Forget any of this ever happened. Carry on as you normally would.’

  ‘Carry on as normal? Are you mad? What about Daniel?’

  Cross opened the front door and eased his way out onto the porch. He turned to her, his face showing no emotion. ‘He’ll live or he won’t. But you have my word that we’ll do all we can to make sure this has a happy ending.’ He turned back around and made his way towards the waiting cab.

  ‘We?’ Eleanor asked, following him. ‘Who exactly are “we”?’

  The driver got out of the cab and opened the rear door for Cross to get in.

  ‘Who do you work for? Cross!’

  Eleanor held Cross’s eyes as the cab pulled away from the curb. She pulled out her phone and dialled Daniel’s number.