Tom Savage - Mrs. John Doe

Probably.

It was her only chance. She drew in a deep breath, made herself as old and stooped as possible, and shuffled carefully out from behind the fountain. She wandered over to the bench and sat between the woman and Andy Gilbert. The two men were talking; they didn’t even glance over at her.

“Good morning,” she said to the other woman in her best French accent. “Eesn’t thees a lovely day? I’m so glad for thees sunshine.”

The woman smiled over at her and nodded. “Yes, it’s a fair morn, all right. No rain, for a change.”

“Een Paris eet ees always the rain too,” Nora said. “I have just come from there. I am here een your beautiful city to consult the-what ees the word?-the particular doctor?”

“I think you mean a specialist,” the woman said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

Now Nora was in an awkward position. She was sitting on a bench, turned toward the woman beside her, while two men talked a few feet away. She would have to keep up her end of the chat while listening intently for anything she could hear of the conversation behind her. Okay, she decided, pretend we’re in a Feydeau farce, a bedroom comedy with lots of eavesdropping.

“Oh, eet ees the aching in the bones, how do you say?”

“She wasn’t there, I tell you. I waited, but she didn’t show up. The kid at the hotel said-”

“Arthritis? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, that ees eet: arthritis.”

“Listen, Yussuf, we need to act fast. He’s planning to move it out tomorrow-”

“I know how you feel, my dear. My hands have been predicting the weather for years now! I’m Margaret Green, by the way, but everyone calls me Madge.”

“-Copperfield, a Cessna Cargomaster, at three p.m. I’m pretty sure they-”

“How do you do, Madge? My name ees Blanche, Blanche Weelliams.”

“Blanche-what a lovely name! I had a friend at school named Blanche, and she was the prettiest…”

Her new friend was off on a story from her long-ago youth, so Nora concentrated on the voices at her back. Her nemesis, Yussuf, spoke perfect English with a British accent in his light baritone voice. The chauffeur, Andy Gilbert, was a basso profundo with a strong Caribbean inflection.

Yussuf: “They both arrived three days ago. Heathrow. They’re going out to Laura’s tomorrow.”

Gilbert: “And where’s Naseem?”

Yussuf: “We don’t know.”

Gilbert: “Damn! Okay, we have to find her, that’s all there is to it. It’s clear Baron’s not going to spill anything, no matter what’s done to him. His wife’s got it, and we can’t let them get it. If they do, we’re screwed.”

Yussuf: “I had the damned purse in my hands. In my hands! I can’t believe-”

Gilbert : “Don’t tear yourself up about it now. You had no way of knowing they’d be sticking so close to her.”

Yussuf: “That goddamn Elder! I didn’t even see him in the fog until he was on top of me!”

Gilbert : “I know. He’s very good at what he does, damn him to hell! Look, I’ve been gone too long. I’ve got to-”

Yussuf: “Okay, you get back to work. I’ll keep looking for her. I’ve got someone watching the hotel, so we can grab her if she shows up there. She got away in the cemetery, but her luck can’t hold forever. She won’t get away from me again.”

Gilbert : “All right. I’ll meet you at Laura’s.”

Yussuf: “Okay, Laura’s, noon tomorrow. Bring any firepower you can lay your hands on. If they’re on to us, we’ll need it.”

Gilbert: “Right. Call me if you find her.”

“…but she didn’t marry him. She married the banker instead. So, she ended up rich, but she let her true love get away. Wasn’t that silly of her?”

“Yes, very seelly.” Nora blinked and smiled at Madge Green, acutely aware of the movements behind her. The two men were standing up from their bench and walking away in opposite directions. Her quarry, Yussuf, was returning the way he’d come, past the fountain and out at the northeast corner of the park, in the direction of the Tube station. He crossed the street and disappeared.

“Well, Blanche was always a silly creature, even when we were girls. Not a lot going on upstairs, if you know what I mean-”

Nora made a big show of looking at her watch. “ Mon Dieu! Eet ees already une heure -how you say?-one of the clock! I must be een Harley Street for my veeseet avec le docteur !”

Madge Green smiled and pulled knitting needles and wool from her purse. “You’d best run along then, love. It was very nice to meet you. If you’re back in London soon, you’ll find me right here most afternoons. We can have another lovely chat.”

“ Merci, Madge. Au revoir! ” Nora shouldered her bag and stood up, then walked slowly away from the bench, tottering past the fountain and out of the park. She wasn’t overly concerned that her quarry had gotten away; she knew where he was going to be tomorrow, and when. But now she had to be alone and think about everything she’d just overheard.

Jeff was alive! That was the good news; the men had made that clear in their conversation. But she didn’t have time to exult, not now, because now she knew exactly how much longer they’d keep him alive. She was afraid, more afraid than she’d been since she arrived in Europe, even more than she’d been in the cemetery.

It was now one o’clock, and whatever was happening would occur at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. She had twenty-six hours to find her husband and free him from these people. After that, he would be expendable.

An average-looking, three-story, nineteenth-century house on a quiet side street in Soho, a short walk north of Leicester Square. From the sidewalk, there was nothing remarkable about the building, which made it the perfect place for her husband to stay in London. Nora stood on that sidewalk now, gazing up at the front door, hoping her guess about the manila envelope was correct. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get inside.

She looked down at the three keys on the ring clutched in her hand. These keys had been found on the body in the wrecked car in Kensington, along with the wallet and the disposable camera. The camera was a mystery, but it was probably the item everyone wanted so badly. The wallet contained cash, in case she needed it, and she hoped the keys were for this place, Jeff’s secret London address. She’d dismissed the idea of coming here last night when she returned to London, but now she had no choice. Besides, she reasoned that her husband would only leave her his keys if he thought she’d be safe here.

She had to get inside undetected. Craig Elder had mentioned people -the people here had told Bill Howard that Jeff hadn’t shown up at his flat since his disappearance. Would these people be in the building? Inside the apartment itself? Or were they across the street, in that row of townhouses over there, watching her from one of the curtained windows? Nora glanced at those windows before hurrying up the steps to the entrance.

Now she faced the door. On her left, five houses down, was the corner where a much busier thoroughfare crossed this one. She could see cars and pedestrians down that way, milling among the kitschy new age shops and exotic restaurants-Indian, Chinese, Thai-that lined the streets in this part of town. The other end, on her right, was farther away; she couldn’t hear the traffic from here. This stretch of road was residential and very quiet at this early afternoon hour.

Two women with shopping bags passed by on the sidewalk behind her, and Nora could feel their curious gaze on her. She studied the four buzzers beside the doorframe as though she weren’t certain which apartment she wanted, but she knew immediately. The names were neatly printed beside each buzzer: B-RYDER; #1-PARKHURST; #2-JENNER; #3-NOONE. The women disappeared into a building two doors down, and she held up the three keys, studying them. Large, medium, small. The large one should open this door…