Alik and Salovitz walked along the south radial out of Manhattan, then took the 32nd loop to the Manhattan Beach Park hub. They almost called a two-seat cabez, but it had stopped snowing by then, so the pair of them walked west along Oriental Boulevard.
“So you think it was a kidnapping?” Salovitz asked. “Rayner went to a lot of effort to fuck up the Lorenzos’ weekend. That crew wanted them at the portalhome.”
“And Javid-Lee’s crew thought they were going to be out on a yacht, so the portalhome would be empty. Which is why they both wound up in Central Park West together. But I don’t think it was a kidnapping.”
“What then?”
“Access to the Anaka, Devial, Mortalo and Lorenzo network requires some biometrics. Having Kravis present in the flesh would’ve been a big help to Koushick. His gear had biometric readers. Plus, if you’re holding Kravis’s family, that gives you plenty of leverage.”
“So it was all about busting the files?”
“Could be, for the Rayner crew. But that still doesn’t tell us where the Lorenzos are now.”
They turned in to Dover Street just after three o’clock in the morning. Nothing else was moving, not even street cleanez. The snow was thick under Alik’s feet, crunching down under his soles.
It was a decent neighborhood; the houses all had neat yards, several with boats parked outside. Perigine’s was halfway along; the only one with its lights on.
Salovitz took the steps up onto the little porch and pressed the doorbell. The house network asked for identification, which their altmes supplied.
Adrea Halfon opened the door and peered out nervously. She’d been crying. “Yeah?” Her voice was soft, catching in her throat.
“NYPD, ma’am,” Salovitz said. “May we come in?”
She didn’t say anything, just backed in and left the door open. Alik and Salovitz followed her. They looked ahead, then looked at each other, careful to remain expressionless, then looked ahead again. Adrea’s housecoat was a loose weave of black lace, lined with fluffy purple feathers—a Schrödinger masterpiece in being dressed and undressed at the same time. Perigine had found her in one of Javid-Lee’s clubs, and she’d obviously thanked him for getting her out by keeping in the exact same shape that had captured him in the first place. Seeing Adrea in the flesh, Alik was certain he’d made the right choice; the smell of insecurity was as strong as her perfume.
“I have some bad news, ma’am,” Salovitz said when they were in the living room. The place was as brash as Alik had expected. Somebody whose taste came straight out of Hong Kong virtuals had been given too much money and license to create their dream home. Everything clashed—colors, furniture, ornaments, pictures; he counted styles from at least four different eras.
Adrea nodded, a single sharp jerk of the head. She already knew. “What’s that, officer?”
“Your partner, Perigine Lexi. I’m afraid our officers have found him dead. My sympathies.”
She sank into a heavily cushioned couch and reached for the tumbler on the marble table beside it. A bottle of cheap bourbon was already open. “That’s terrible,” she said.
“The way he died, yeah,” Alik agreed. “Terrible.”
She shot him a fearful glance. “How…?”
“He was in the wrong place in the wrong time with the wrong people. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”
“I don’t know where he was tonight. He said he was meeting some friends in a bar.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a manager at Sidereal Urban Management.”
Alik read the file Shango splashed for him. “City cleanup company, huh? Sidereal has the contract for Gravesend and Sheepshead Bay?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Her hand shook as she took another slug of bourbon.
“Strange, we found him in an uptown apartment. He was robbing the place.”
“I don’t know nothing about that.”
“One of the people with him, we think it’s Duane Nordon. Would you mind identifying him for me, please?” He held up his card.
“Sure.” She glanced at the image of Duane’s frozen bloodless face and screamed. Ran out of the room. Alik and Salovitz stared meaningfully at each other to the soundtrack of violent retching.
A couple of minutes later Adrea reappeared in the doorway, clutching her housecoat tightly closed; something it just wasn’t built for. “You son of a bitch!”
“Yes, ma’am. There were two crews hit that apartment, and they ripped each other apart like sharks on acid. Your Perigine, he got lucky; a clean shot. Duane, not so much.”
Her hand went to her mouth as the tears dripped down her cheeks.
“They took out two of the other crew,” Alik continued relentlessly, “but one of them got away. Any idea who Rayner would use for a job like this?”
“I don’t know anything.”