Lev Rosen - Depth

Caroline got down on her knees and stared at the water. It was dark as onyx and just within her reach. She could dip her hand down into it and bring it back up.

She saw the hat first—floating on the water like a paper boat. Then a flash of red on the water’s surface—rust-colored and swirling like blood in the water. But it was in strands. Not blood. Hair. Caroline leaned over the edge and thrust her hand into the water, then yanked back like she was trying to catch fish in a net.

She fell backwards, a clump of red hairs in her hand. She leaned forward, took more of the hair, and this time pulled more slowly, lifting the weight of Simone’s head to the surface. Water poured off her face in thick sluices, and she sputtered into the air.

“Get the fuck up here!” Caroline shouted, extending her hand for Simone to grab onto. Simone stared at her, blankly. “Grab my hand!” Caroline shouted over the storm. Simone grabbed onto Caroline’s arm, and Caroline heaved her back up onto the bridge. Simone grabbed the edge of the bridge and, with Caroline’s help, pulled herself up, drenched and gasping.

“He got away,” Simone said when she’d caught her breath.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Simone shook her head. She was soaked and had lost her hat. Her hair fell over her face in thick bars. She looked past them at Caroline, whose hair stuck to her face in lines like cracks in a porcelain mask. She was wet and her mouth was slack. They were both breathing heavily, and it was cold enough that she could see the little wisps of breath flying from their mouths like ghosts in the rain. “Thanks for pulling me out.” The air smelled like electricity, and her mouth tasted of metal.

“Yeah. Well. You’re welcome. Didn’t think I could handle this city without you around.” Caroline smiled as she said this. She was still on her knees, her hands clasped in her lap, but she let her body fall sideways into Simone, leaning on her, shoulder to shoulder. They stared out at the shadows of New York. It was barely visible, gray and green. Dash was long gone and Simone felt a knot of anger wrap itself around her chest, but then she breathed in and let it go. She shivered. Her coat was soaked too deeply for the warming gel to kick on.

Caroline laid a hand over Simone’s. Her hand was warm, and Simone took a sudden deep breath without meaning to, and coughed a few times. She looked at Caroline, who was looking at the ocean.

“Okay,” Caroline said. Simone almost couldn’t hear her over the rain. But she knew what she meant.

They leaned back against the solid railings. Rain poured down around them for a while. The sound of the ocean taking in each drop like a sinking stone echoed. It was like a thousand people swallowing, not all at once, but one after another after another.

“What do you think he meant?” Caroline asked after a moment. “When he said I’d keep quiet?”

“I think he was bullshitting,” Simone said. “I think he was going to get us outside, then shoot us and push us under. Easier to get two walking bodies above water than carry two dead ones.”

“I guess,” Caroline said. “I hope.” The rain began to fall even harder. It felt like bullets, but sounded like overwhelming applause.

“Fuck,” Simone said.

“What?” Caroline shouted over the rain.

“I just realized who hired Dash.” She was cold and wet, and her hair was plastered to her face and neck. The wind was whipping through her like knives. She stood slowly, her body stiff and cold and burning all at once, but she stood. She held a hand out to help Caroline up. “Let’s go home.”

SIMONE LEANED BACK IN her unused receptionist’s chair, her feet up on the desk. She waited for him to knock first and smiled when he did.

“Come in,” she called.

He walked in and sat down across from her. He ran his fingers through his hair, then grinned at her. Simone couldn’t tell if he knew what was coming, if he was prepared for it. She’d have to be careful.

“I’m happy you called,” deCostas started. “I very much enjoyed our time together the other night. I was hoping we could do it again.”

“I was, too,” Simone said. It was practically a purr, but she pulled back. Too much and he’d get suspicious. “I had such a bad day yesterday.” She swung her feet off the desk and stood, walking around to him.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, smiling. She sat down on the desk, and he put his hand on her thigh. Simone smiled, using all her self-control not to kick him.

“You remember that other detective I told you about, Dash Ormond?” deCostas shook his head. “Sure you do. I said he was the one to go to if you wanted a more forceful approach, right? You looked at his card.”

“I remember, right,” deCostas said, not meeting her eye but staring at his own hand as it began to stroke her leg. “I didn’t want to hire him, though. I knew I had to work with you.”

“Mmm,” Simone said. “Well, he tried to kill me last night.”

“What? That’s terrible!” deCostas said, standing, waiting a moment, and then looking her in the eye.

“And he tried to kill my friend Caroline.”

“He sounds like a very bad man,” he said, his voice teasingly sexual.

“He’s more a tool than a man,” Simone said. She crossed her legs, letting her foot dig into his leg. “So, I’m trying to figure out who hired him.”

“Will dwelling on it really help?” deCostas asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to forget all about it? I could give you a massage,” he smiled.

“Funny thing is—he tried to drown me. In a dry tunnel under the city.” Simone watched him carefully. His eyebrows raised, his eyes opened wider, but his pupils stayed the same, and it took just a fraction of a second too long. “So I owe you an apology. You were right. There was a place where you could walk down under the waves. But it’s gone now. I didn’t even get a picture.”

“I accept your apology,” he said, “but I’m sorry you didn’t get photos or… proof. I could have published with just that—what a discovery!” He sighed—forced, Simone thought. “Perhaps there is a way you could make it up to me?” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Simone was positive now. It was deCostas. deCostas had money and backing from the EU, knew about the painting, and was the one who wouldn’t get just a tunnel and some money out of finding the rail. He wouldn’t care if the government took it over. He’d get a career, a reputation. There were people all over the city, maybe the world, looking for tunnels, and they’d all drown him in money to find another one once word got out that he’d found the first. And he didn’t seem to care that she’d found it.

“Maybe there is,” she said. “You see, the police caught Dash. They’re hacking his wristpiece now.”

“Oh?” deCostas said. Now his pupils shrank.

“Maybe I can find out who hired him, if I can get my hands on the data they extract. And then you can go talk to them and find out how they knew.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s very important,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “When did they catch him?”

“Last night,” Simone said, “maybe early this morning.”

“Mmm,” deCostas said, and leaned back a little, suddenly relaxed. Simone forced herself to smile. She was losing him.

“Don’t you want to know all about it?” Simone said, almost whispering in his ear. She wrapped her legs around his and drew him close, locking him in place. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. He wasn’t trying to be charming now.

“I think I know enough. Would you like to move this to a more comfortable location, perhaps?” He wrapped his arm around her, ground his hips into her. He was teasing her. He’d figured out it was a setup. Dash must have contacted him sometime recently—after “early this morning.” Simone held back a scream of frustration.