The Fury - Jason Pinter [48]
he began to look around. His eyes caught something,
and suddenly he turned and jogged across the street. He
zigged between several cars, making it impossible for
me to follow him without drawing attention to myself.
Instead, I watched in between traffic as he approached
a pay phone. I saw him put money in the machine and
make a call. He hung up less than fifteen seconds later.
No doubt he was calling whatever number had just
come up on his cell phone. Briefcase man had another
delivery to make.
He turned West on Fourteenth Street and made his
way to what I assumed was the Union Square subway
stop.
I picked up the pace, narrowing the gap between us
to thirty feet or so. I wanted to remain behind him, but
if he was heading for the subway, losing him in the
bustle of pedestrians was a chance I didn't want to take.
He went down into the subway, paid his fare and
headed for the 6 train. I followed.
He went down the two flights of stairs onto the 6
train platform. I followed ten feet behind. He walked
halfway down the platform then stopped and waited. I
stopped two car lengths away, and hung out behind a
steel column, peeking out every now and then to make
sure he was still there.
The 6 train rattled into the station. My heart was
pumping. I wanted to run up and grab this guy, make
him give up everything he knew. But that would cut off
my only source of information. And unless I killed him,
he would tell whoever he worked for what happened,
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and the whole thing would clam up faster than a mute
on the witness stand. And while I was willing to do a
whole lot to figure out just what exactly happened that
night at Helen Gaines's apartment, murder wasn't on
my approved list of actions.
The man stepped into the car, and I got into the
adjacent one, making sure I could see him through the
separating window. For a moment I had a sense of deja
vu, remembering that it was not too long ago when I
was on the subway running from two men who wanted
me dead. Funny how the tides turn.
The doors closed, and the man took a seat. That
likely meant we were traveling a few stops. I stayed
standing, not wanting to lose sight due to a bad angle.
This was slightly awkward considering there were half
a dozen open seats and I was the only person standing
in our car. Still, I'd rather be considered an antisocial
weirdo than lose the rabbit.
Every stop I braced myself in case my target left.
Finally as we approached the Seventy-seventh Street
subway stop, I saw him stand up, check to make sure
his briefcase was still looped around his shoulder and
approach the door. I didn't move.
When the train stopped, a mass of passengers exited.
The Seventy-seventh Street stop was right by the
entrance to Lenox Hill Hospital. This Upper East Side
location was right near a large residential area. Though
heavily populated, it wasn't as crowded as Union
Square or one stop higher, Eighty-sixth Street.
The man walked east across Seventy-seventh. I
followed him. Between First and Second Avenues, he
went up to a brick town house, stopped in front of it. I sat
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Jason Pinter
on a small brick outcropping and pretended to tie my
shoe. He took out his cell phone, looking like he was
double-checking something, then went up the stairs and
pressed a buzzer. I heard a ring, then he said something
but I couldn't hear what. He opened the door and walked
in.
I retreated around the corner, peeking back every
few seconds to make sure I didn't lose him.
I only had to wait five minutes, then the man was
back outside and walking west, toward me. My heart
raced. If he was dealing--or delivering--drugs, this
seemed to fit the profile. Short and sweet. No chitchat.
Just in and out, over and done. Pay the man his money.
And the bulge in the briefcase even seemed to have
gone down a little bit.
I bought a bottle of water at a corner store as he
walked past, then I got back into our familiar pace. I
needed to see how many stops he made, see if anything
interesting