R. Jagger - A Way With Murder

“Do you have the map?”

The voice was a man’s, the same one as before.

“Yes.”

“You’re going to get one chance and only one chance to do this right,” he said. “It’s important that you understand that. It’s important that you do exactly as I say, not an ounce more and not an ounce less. Do you understand?”

She exhaled.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “Are you alone?”

She hesitated.

“Yes.”

“Did you call the police?”

“No.”

“Think carefully about that answer,” he said. “Because if you called them, I’ll know it. I’ll see them following you. If that happens, the devil comes to pay a visit to your little friend-her first, then you later. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I hope so, I really do.” A beat then, “Here’s what you’re going to do. After we hang up, go to your bedroom and look under the pillow. You’ll find two keys there. One key fits a padlock where your little friend is being kept. The other fits a handcuff that has her fastened to something. Put those keys in your pocket. Don’t put them in your purse. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good,” he said. “Take the map and put it in your purse. Does your purse have a zipper?”

“Yes.”

“Be sure it’s zipped tight,” he said.

“Okay.”

“There’s a cab parked outside your house right now with the lights out. Go to the window and make sure it’s there.”

She did.

It was there.

Her heart raced.

“It’s there,” she said.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he said. “When we hang up, you go get into the back of that cab. Here’s the important part. Don’t say a word to the driver. He’s been instructed that if you say anything, even one word, he’s to pull over to the side of the road and let you out. If that happens, we get back to the devil part of the equation. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, not one word, remember that,” he said. “He’s going to drive. At a point during that drive, he’s going to say, Get ready. When he says that, you roll down the back window on the passenger side of the car. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“At some point after he says Get ready, he’s going to say, Now. When he does that, you throw the purse out the window. Don’t look at it and don’t look back. The driver will keep driving for a while and will eventually drop you off at a phone booth. He’ll drive away. You stay right there at that phone booth. If I determine that the map is genuine and not a fake, I’ll call you there and tell you where your little friend is. You can go get her and you two can live happily ever after.”

“How do I know you’ll call?”

“You don’t. Now go get in the cab.”

The line went dead.

Day Three

July 23, 1952

Wednesday Night

While the seedier pocketsof town still kicked with life, the financial district was quiet and motionless. The lights were out, the doors were locked and the bus stops were empty. Waverly and Jaden made their way to the alley side of the building that housed Jackson amp; Reacher, then broke a window and took a position down the way behind a dumpster to see if anyone came to investigate. After two minutes of silence, they climbed in.

Now the trick was to find Gina Sophia’s office.

They didn’t have a flashlight.

Flipping a light switch would be too dangerous.

“Do you have a lighter?” Waverly asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Yeah, but you break into buildings. Come prepared.”

“You’re the one breaking in,” Jaden said. “I’m just following you.”

“That’s fine but next time follow me with a lighter in your pocket.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“You do that.”

The law firm was divided into individual offices, each with a door, each door with a glass window and a venetian blind, and each glass window stenciled with a name. Enough ambient light filtered in to read those names when Waverly got her nose right up to them.

Gina Sophia’s office turned out to be an interior one with no outside windows.

The women entered, closed the door and turned on the lights.

The place was a mess.

Papers and files were everywhere, stacked on every conceivable square inch of desk, filing cabinet and chair-even over in the corner on the floor.

“It looks like a bomb went off in here,” Jaden said.

Waverly didn’t disagree.

“Bristol came today,” she said, “so he should be on the top somewhere.” A beat then, “Try to keep things as they are as much as you can. I don’t want her to know we were here.”

“They’re going to know from the broken window.”

“They’ll know someone broke in but they won’t know that this office was the target,” Waverly said. “We’ll go into a couple of different offices and mess them up before we leave.”

“Sneaky.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure I meant that as a compliment.”

Files labeled Thomas Bristol didn’t materialize, not on this stack or that one or the other one or on the floor or in a drawer or in the filing cabinet.

“This is useless,” Jaden said.

“Keep looking.”

“We already looked everywhere. She must not have taken any notes. Either that or she took them home.”

“I doubt she’d do that. Keep looking. They’re here somewhere. I can smell them.”

They searched longer.

Ten minutes went by.

Then fifteen.

“We’ve been here more than half an hour,” Jaden said. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

“Keep looking.”

“Someone’s going to notice that window and call the cops.”

“There’s no reason for anyone to be back there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Just keep looking.”

“No. I’m serious. We need to get out of here.”

Waverly exhaled.

“Go if you want, I don’t care.”

The woman headed for the door and put her hand on the knob. She turned and said, “Good luck.”

“Bye.”

Waverly kept searching.

The door didn’t open.

She looked up.

Jaden was shaking her head as if doubting her sanity, then she came back in and said, “Maybe Bristol met with two lawyers. Maybe Gina Sophia was only one of them. Maybe the file is in someone else’s office.”

Waverly considered it.

It made sense.

It also meant going through another twenty or thirty offices. Most of them wouldn’t be interior ones like this one. They’d have windows to the outside. Flipping on the lights wouldn’t be an option. They have to get flashlights and come back.

“Five more minutes,” she said. “If we don’t find it by then we’ll go.”

“Good.” A beat then, “Did you hear that?”

Waverly focused.

She heard nothing.

“Hear what?”

“Quiet,” Jaden said. “Be quiet.”

She flicked off the light.

They stood there in darkness, breathing quietly and listening.

A minute went byfollowed by another.

They heard nothing more.

Waverly quietly opened the office door and looked down the hallway. Everything was dark. There were no signs of cleaning people, cops or anyone else.

“False alarm,” she said.

“I don’t know-”

Waverly flicked on the light and closed the door. “Five more minutes,” she said. “If we don’t find them by then, we’re out of here.”

A minute later a file caught her eye.

It was labeled John Stamp. The name was familiar but Waverly couldn’t place it. Then she remembered. He was a private investigator, reportedly the only good one in town other than a guy named Bryson Wilde.