Chapter Thirteen

Alone in the store, I contemplated what to do with the information James had posthumously sent me. He had said it was explosive, that I would need it to bargain with powerful enemies. Thanks to him and the Bat, I knew now who they were, but there were still too many unknowns: would they come after me? Did I need to make them aware of what I had, or did they already know? If I approached them, would I be putting myself in danger? Was it best to hide in plain sight, and publish it?

And if I did publish it, what did I hope to achieve? I remembered what Ran had said about how the Archangels would have dealt with James and Mahigan, if they had known about them. No doubt they would take the same approach with me: expensive lawyers who would twist the facts, water down any evidence, then hit me with a libel action. It was not enough to make the names of the Archangels public: there was no law against private membership clubs, private companies, as they would claim to be. Publicity would probably just infuriate them, and stir up the hornets' nest once more. The next time the Mafia tried to sting me, I might not have such timely protection around the corner. They would not mess up a second time, if someone felt I needed to be dealt with. Whether the Bat had any hard evidence about the Mafia involvement, I had no idea, and I didn't want to know. The documentary evidence that James appeared to have of under-the-table agreements on other land deals, not just the collapsed tower site was quite enough to be sitting on. Agreements to waive or falsify zone requirements and restrictions, to allow development that should have been refused. He had a few, but not many, names of City Hall officials implicated in this. This was a whole new can of worms, and important though it was to expose those, I didn't think that doing that would get me any closer to the justice I craved. The Larsson papers were surely a better bet, being more closely tied to the tower collapse, but they were no longer in my possession. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and I wished, not for the first time, that I had paid more attention, thought things through a little better and acted a little faster.

Lacey came for a while, but I didn't discuss it with her. As far as she was concerned, the matter was closed. She didn't mention the GoD settlement offer and I didn't raise it, so we struggled for conversation. It would take a while for us to get back into our old rhythm. She probably assumed my relationship with the Bat was over, and if it wasn't, she was too jealous to want to know. Not that I would have talked about him anyway. Some things were too personal.

Ran texted throughout the day, making sure I was okay and safe. His concern was touching and I was grateful for it.

By 4 pm the store had been empty for a while, and I was bored. The stress of the past few days had made me tired, so I decided to close up. Before I could leave the counter, the door opened and almost the last person I expected to see entered, followed by his personal security: Rafe Harlowe himself. The two heavies, dark suits, bulging jackets, no necks, positioned themselves either side of the door. One of them flicked the latch down and turned over the closed sign.

'I will of course make up any lost sales,' Harlowe said, 'but I doubt that will cost me much.'

I did not dignify that with a response.

'To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?' I asked. Unexpected – and unwanted. But I couldn't antagonise him because of the settlement.

'We need to talk.' He unbuttoned his expensive overcoat and moved towards the counter, where he took the liberty of parking himself on a stool. I stepped back towards the door that led towards my apartment.

'I'm listening.'

'What have you got on Larsson Construction?'

'Me? Nothing.'

He raised an elegant eyebrow. Lacey and I had amused ourselves on several occasions with a hilarious conversation on how much grooming Harlowe went in for. We were convinced he got his eyebrows tinted and threaded. The eyebrow told me he didn't believe me.

'Where are they?'

'Where are what?'

'Don't play dumb, Emma. It doesn't suit you.'

'Well, my lawyers have a set. Oh – and the guy who murdered Mr Larsson. And Mr Mahigan.'

Harlowe didn't frown (Lacey had speculated on too much Botox) but he had a disconcerting, piercing stare.

'You know he stole copies from Harry Johnson-Brown,' I said. I hoped I sounded calmer than I then felt. 'I can't control what happens with those.'

'But you have other information.'

'Like what?'

'Like information from James.'

'On what? He didn't bring a lot of work home. And I don't have a lot of storage upstairs.'

'I think we both know what I'm talking about.'

'I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out.'

He sighed. 'It will go easier with you if you co-operate.'

'Are you threatening me?'

'We know he was working with Ouray Mahigan. We know what Mahigan was up to. We can link James to him.' He leaned forward. 'James had no right to that information. It belongs to us. And you have been poking round in our system illegally.'

So they knew Mahigan had been betraying them, but it sounded like they didn't have the whole picture. Could they have had Mahigan murdered? Always possible, but why copy Nashton's methods? I wasn't going to mention that, or argue whether it was illegal if you had a password to get into a system. They had found me, as Harry had said they would. Or he had told them. I couldn't stop that possibility sneaking into my thoughts.

'So if you would kindly hand over the files, the laptop, whatever the Native American boy gave you.'

'Are you spying on me?'

Heavy no. 2 was advancing on the connecting door. I snatched up my keys and stepped aside, towards the stock room. He tried the handle and found it locked. He held out his hand for the keys. Holding my breath, I slipped my hand inside the waistband of my skirt and parked the keys somewhere very private. Then I made sure I was standing where the CCTV would see me.

'You come and get them, I will go to the police and claim attempted rape,' I said.

The heavies looked towards Harlowe. He had stood and was turning towards me. What instruction he would have given the heavies, I will never know. A voice behind me said:

'You need to go.'

Then there was the sound of what I shortly discovered was a safety catch being released. I became aware of something dark appearing in my eyeline, close to my right shoulder, and a hand holding my right arm in a tight grip. Harlowe raised his hands slowly. They began to retreat towards the door. Once they were out on the street, the grip on my arm released and I turned. Edward Nashton was locking the safety back in place on some hefty hand gun. I felt suddenly faint.

'Thanks, but I was handling it,' I said.

'Sure you were. People like that, they only understand one language. So who was that?'

'Rafe Harlowe, CEO of – '

'I know the name.'

Michael, chief of the Archangels.

'So that's what he looks like.'

And that was the security he had, thanks to my visit to the precinct, no doubt.

'And you're here because . . .?'

'Was gonna leave you a note. Since you're here, gimme your cell number. It will be quicker.'

I wasn't going to argue with an armed man who had shown himself ready to use it.

'Now they're on to you, we're gonna need to move quickly if we're gonna catch them,' he said, completing the save on his cell and sending me his number. 'It's a burner, by the way.' He looked up at me. 'They mean business. This was just the first attempt. They'll be back. I need to go.'

Before I could complain, and ask him not to come and go as he pleased through the stock room. But he had stepped in when I had needed help. Did I owe him now?

Upstairs, locked in the apartment, trembling, I sent a text to the Bat, telling him what had happened. He instructed me get out of the apartment and to take the information with me. I was to find somewhere safe for it, in a different place from where I was staying.

I fled to Lacey's with a hastily-packed suitcase and James's old briefcase with his laptop, the papers and the precious book in it. I brought my own laptop in a backpack, for safe-keeping, just in case. Harry and Lacey reacted to the briefcase like I had brought a nuclear bomb into their house. It didn't take much time before Harry escorted me to Central Station and guarded me as I placed the precious case in a left luggage locker.

They let me stay at theirs, but I doubt if any of us got much sleep. Every slight sound woke me. We all looked shattered at breakfast, and I realised they could not protect me; I would need to move on. Harry set off for work, and shortly afterwards Lacey came with me to the store.

A scene of devastation met our eyes. Presumably it was Harlowe's heavies who had done a number on the store: books strewn all over the floor, bookcases pulled away from the walls, the stock room wrecked. With a gasp I realised that the door that connected the store to the apartment had been forced open, splintering the wood. Apprehensively we went upstairs.

'Oh, Em,' Lacey exclaimed.

Tears filled my eyes as we surveyed the trashed apartment, my violated home. A comprehensive burglary: every drawer and cupboard opened and emptied, every soft furnishing slashed open. James's precious photo ripped from its smashed frame and torn in half.

'They didn't need to do that,' Lacey murmured. 'Thank goodness you weren't here.'

We called the police, and the rest of my morning was spent sitting in the wreckage of my life, waiting for them then answering their questions. I was so angry, I gave them Harlowe's name, the story of his visit, and his motive for threatening me and burgling my home. The uniformed officers called the precinct and bored Detective Something Madison of the other day eventually turned up, and I had to repeat it all over again for her. Lacey dropped very unsubtle hints that her father-in-law knew the Commissioner and he would hear about it if it wasn't taken seriously. Ms Detective Madison had obviously heard all this before, and gave Lacey a 'so what?' look, so Lacey got out her cell and went off to phone Harrington Johnson-Brown the Second.

As Madison was leaving, she came face-to-face with her ultimate boss, as the Commissioner himself approached my front door. We saw him from the window as we watched her go, consoling ourselves by being rude about her and her attitude. We wished we could have seen her face. She was then obliged to trail back in after him and stand behind the dining chair he pulled up (none of the soft furnishings were usable) and listen to it all again. But now the Commissioner was here, Lacey and I told him all we knew about Edward Nashton, the Archangels, the motive for the murders.

'You didn't mention all this the other day,' Madison said.

'You weren't interested and you weren't listening,' I said. 'You and your colleagues decided I was a mad old lady.'

'But if you'd mentioned Larsson, Mahigan – ' she waved her hand towards Lacey ' – the Johnson-Browns –'

'You'd have taken me more seriously?'

'That doesn't matter now,' the Commissioner said. 'We need to make sure you're safe, Mrs Rossingdale. And look into this.' He stood and turned to the detective. 'Get that name to the murder squad. Then get over to Gotham Developments with a partner and question Mr Harlowe. Try not to take no for an answer.'

She nodded, mumbled something that might have been 'yes, sir' and clattered down the stairs in her biker boots. He turned to Lacey and me.

'I can't promise an officer outside your house, Mrs Johnson-Brown, but I can make sure we patrol your street, if you give me your address. That's the best I can do, I'm afraid.' He wrote down her address in a pocketbook. 'And think yourselves lucky I don't charge you with obstructing an investigation. I've got two bizarre murders to solve and you, Mrs Rossingdale, seem to be best buddies with the killer.'

My mouth dropped open in amazement. I was on the point of arguing with him. Then I thought better of it and closed it again.

'Sorry,' is what we both actually said.

'Okay. Try to stay out of trouble, ladies. And tell my officers if he gets in touch again.' That last point was specially for me. Little did he know. He departed, leaving me to rescue a few precious possessions and some clothes, and to retreat to Lacey's.

Soon after we got back to the house, Ran turned up. Once again, I had failed to notice the arrival of his texts and answer them. Anxious to know that I was okay, he had left work straight after lunch. He had swung by the store, and got some idea of the devastation inside. He was just so pleased to see me in one piece, he swept me into a warm embrace on the doorstep, not caring who saw.

'Jeez, the neighbours,' Lacey murmured.

So he stayed for the afternoon. I did not know how to relax; my heart rate seemed to be permanently high and I felt like I was on the edge of a panic attack. I paced about, and every now and then Ran would come and put his arms round me. He did his best to distract me. I was starting slowly to calm down when Harry unexpectedly turned up.

'God, you're early,' Lacey said. 'What's happened?'

Lacey and I were expecting to hear that there had been fireworks at the office when the police had turned up to question Harlowe about the break-in. Harry needed a drink before he would tell us anything. We, of course, were bursting to tell him how our day had gone. Harry's news, which had disconcerted him, was that my new detective best friend had arrived with her partner to speak to Harlowe, but had been unable to as he had not turned up for work.

'What?' we all exclaimed.

'No message, no nothing,' Harry said.

'Did you call his wife?' Lacey asked.

Harry gave her the eye-rolling, do-you-think-I'm-stupid look.

'And?' Lacey asked.

'That's the weird thing. She said he left for work. Left the house, anyway. Told her he was going to the office.'

'And he didn't take the car?' Lacey asked.

Rafe Harlowe never used mass transit. Mass transit was for the little people.

'That's another odd thing. He did. Driver dropped him off at the office entrance, as usual. Didn't see him go in, though, and reception didn't notice him outside. He never swiped in. He never entered the building.'

'So is he a missing person?' Ran asked.

I was unable to breathe. I had a horrible idea of what might have happened to him.

'Not yet. They don't take it seriously till it's been twenty-four hours, apparently. As he is an adult.'

4 pm in the afternoon. He had been missing for about eight hours. Plenty of time for Nashton to have done something nasty to him. Lacey and Ran turned to look at me.

'You know, don't you?' Lacey said. 'You've got to call the police.'

'I don't, not for sure. It could be too late already.'

'You still need to tell them,' Ran said.

'If they didn't catch him when they got his name this morning, then they won't be able to find him now.'

'But you can. You need to tell them.'

'He'll kill me,' I whispered.

'You have to do the right thing,' Lacey said, catching my hands.

'You don't know what he's capable of.'

They exchanged glances, seeing they were not persuading me to do what they thought was the right thing. In my pocket I felt my cell vibrate: a message. I took myself off to the bathroom to read it. It wasn't from whom I thought it would be. It was from Nashton, telling me to meet him at a particular address at 6pm to find out the truth about your husband and your boyfriend

I sent the address and the meet time to the Bat. He replied quickly:

I'll get there early and check it out

When I returned to the living room, I discovered Lacey had already called the police, and they were on their way. I was caught now: if I didn't tell them what I had just been instructed to do, I would be obstructing a police enquiry. If I did, Nashton would have a reason to come after me.

Harry was on the phone a lot to senior colleagues, keeping updated on the Harlowe situation. Apparently his cell had turned up at the lost property office at Grand Central Station, New York. While Lacey was out of the room, Ran took my arm.

'What do you want to do?' he asked.

'I need to get out. I can't spend the time talking to them. I can't let him think I betrayed him.'

'Do you need to be somewhere?'

'Yes.'

'Okay. Grab your stuff.'

When I had my purse and jacket, he steered me out of the patio doors, and round to his car. We drove to his. On the way, I got another message from Nashton, pushing the time back to 7pm.

'This is mad. I shouldn't be helping you to do this,' he said as he unlocked his front door.

'I can't see another way to keep safe,' I said.

'Lacey will kill us both, you know that, don't you?'

'I'll risk it. I've got more chance of talking her out of it than Nashton.'

Nashton would not give me the opportunity, either.

On another, less fraught occasion, I would have been very curious about Ran's house. I would have checked out his bookshelves, mentally commenting on his choices and pigeonholing him because of them. I could have appreciated the tidiness. Now, I just paced. He suggested only once that I might like to sit, then wisely gave up. While we waited till nearer the meet time, hoping that Lacey would not call, Ran looked up the address Nashton had given me.

'That's in the Bowery,' he said. 'You definitely don't want to go there on your own.'

'What choice do I have?'

'Well . . . you could refuse to play his game.' He held my gaze, his lips in a firm line. 'Or . . . I come with you.'

'I can't let you do that.'

'And I can't let you go into the Bowery on your own.'

'Why not?'

'It's crime central, Em. All derelict buildings, squatters, drug dealers, you name it. I'll drive you, I'll drop you off, then I'll keep watch from the car. And call the police if I need to. No arguing. Or you don't go.'

'Yes, Pa.' But it wasn't a laughing matter.

Lacey rang, to say the cops were at hers, where the hell was I?

'They'll trace your cell,' Ran warned. 'We should move. Tell her you're coming back.'

So I lied to Lacey and said I was on my way. In the car, Nashton sent another text:

How do you make a bat get lost? Jam his bat-nav. I have your boyfriend

My heart almost stopped. Had I led the Bat into a trap? The rest of the text was a new address, with a meet of a few minutes' time, and the warning to come alone.

'Jiminy,' Ran said, frantically changing the sat-nav.

I phoned the only other number I had, that might get the Bat some help. I phoned the number Bruce Wayne had given me. It was voicemail, as I expected.

'This is Emma. If you don't already know, he's in trouble. Track my cell number, it should lead you to him.' I turned to Ran. 'What's your cell number?'

He told me, and I repeated it into the voicemail. 'If you can't get me, call this number.'

I prayed desperately that Mr Pennyworth would monitor the line.

'What's going on?' Ran asked.

I just shook my head. It was all getting out of hand.

Ran turned into the street that Nashton had given me. I told him to park near the end and drop me: I would walk the last few hundred yards. He turned off the lights.

'Get a tracker app, track my cell. Call Lacey, get her to tell the police.' My hands trembling, I sent him Lacey's number.

Now that someone else's life was involved, not just Harlowe's, I didn't care about betraying Nashton.

'Judas H Priest, Emma,' Ran said. I could hear the fear in his voice.

'He won't hurt me. He won't hurt me.' Like a mantra I needed to believe. 'I have to go. He mustn't see you.'

As I opened the door, he took hold of my arm and pulled me towards him. He kissed me.

'Good luck.'

I nodded my thanks, got out and walked towards the building Nashton had given as the address. I pushed the front door, but it didn't budge. There didn't seem to be a side entrance. As I stepped back towards the kerb, to look up and see if there were any lights on higher up, a car pulled up beside me. The passenger door flew open, almost hitting me.

'Get in,' Nashton called.

Almost before I had closed the door, he pulled away.

'Change of plan. Change of venue,' he said. 'Give me your cell.'

Shaking, I fished it out of my purse. He snatched it from me. Swerving to the other side of the road, he wound down his window and dropped it into a trash can.

'We don't want any nasty surprises, now do we? Now. Buckle up, it's going to be a helluva ride.'

He laughed, a sound that froze my blood.