Hard news - Jeffery Deaver [95]
She’d get into the Network somehow—Bradford would help her—and steal her tapes and notes, get all the details on where Randy’d lived over the past ten years, where he liked to go, what he hoped to do in the future. Somewhere in that material would probably be a clue as to where he was running to right now. She’d find him and Jack and make sure they both went to Harrison prison.
But then, when it occurred to her that Claire might die and her mother would take Courtney back to Boston, she thought she might not turn them over to the police at all.
She’d kill them herself.
chapter 30
BRADFORD SIMPSON WAS UNEASY.
“The word is Piper wants you drawn and eighthed. Quartered isn’t good enough.”
“Look, I just need to get into the newsroom.”
“If I were you I wouldn’t be in the same city as Piper Sutton,” the young preppy said. “The same building is a very, very bad idea. Very bad.”
They were at Kelly’s, a bar on the southern end of Columbus Avenue, around the corner from the Network. The shabby place couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to be the home base for yuppies who traded insider information or for IRA sympathizers who argued politics.
Rune ordered Bradford another martini, a reporter’s drink. And one calculated to make him agreeable. She asked him again to get her inside the Network and appended a heartfelt “Please.”
“What for? Tell me what for.”
“I can’t. It’s just really, really important.”
“Give me a clue.” He speared the olive expertly. Connecticutians are good with martinis.
“You know, that might not be the best question to ask. I don’t think you really want to know.”
“Now that’s an honest response. I don’t like it but it’s an honest response.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked.
“I could get fired, arrested and sent to jail on Rikers Island.”
“If anybody asks I’ll tell them I snuck in. I promise. I wouldn’t jeopardize your career. I know what it means to you. Please, help me out. Just this once.”
“You’re very persuasive,” he said.
“I haven’t even started trying yet.”
He looked at his watch. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing serious.”
“Just distract the guard while you slip in?”
“No, it’s a lot easier than that. All you’ve got to do is deactivate the alarm on the fire door downstairs, open it up and let me in. Piece of cake.”
“Oh, Christ.” The young man looked worried sick at this assignment. He poured down the last slug of martini. “And look at it this way,” Rune said. “If you do get arrested and sent to Rikers Island you’ll be able to do a great exposé on what life’s like in prison. What an opportunity.”
IT DIDN’T GO QUITE THE WAY SHE’D PLANNED IT.
She got in okay, thanks to Bradford. She even managed to get to her old desk unseen.
The problem was that someone had beat her there.
Everything about Boggs was gone.
Rune went through every drawer, every shelf of her credenza, every wadded-up Lamston’s and Macy’s bag under the desk. But there was zip about Randy Boggs. All the files, the background tapes, the notes—gone.
Who’d done it? she wondered.
Rune sat at the desk until six P.M., when the first live Network newscast began. Everyone’s attention was on the far side of the studio and not a soul noticed Rune walk up to a gaffer, a heavyset man in jeans and a white striped shirt. He wore a Mets cap. He was sipping coffee from a cardboard cup, watching the attractive Asian anchor-woman deliver a story about the mayor’s press conference.
“Hey, Rune,” he said, then looked back to the set. “Welcome back.”
“Danny, I need some help,” she said.
“Help?” he asked.
“You’re on set here every day, right?”
“Yep. Working overtime to buy my boat.”
“Somebody went through my desk recently. You see who it was, by any chance?”
He sipped more coffee, avoiding her eyes. “I’m off shift.”
“Danny.”
“Thought you were fired.