The Lost Years (25 page)

A
t nine
A.M
. Richard was in the wealth-management office at Roberts and Wilding at Chambers Street, arranging to withdraw two million dollars from his trust fund and have it wired into the account of Lillian Stewart.

“Richard, as we have discussed, in your lifetime you are allowed to give away several million dollars without tax penalties. Do you want this gift to be part of that lifetime allowance?” Norman Woods, his financial adviser, asked.

“Yes, that would be fine,” Richard said, recognizing that he was very nervous and hoping he wasn’t showing it.

Woods, white-haired, dressed as always in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and patterned blue tie, was approaching his sixty-fifth birthday and was close to retirement. It was on the tip of his tongue to do something totally out of character and say, “Richard, may I ask if Ms. Stewart is a romantic interest? I know that would delight your mother and father.”

Instead he kept his face impassive as he confirmed that when Richard got back to him with the information about Ms. Stewart’s bank account, the money would be wired directly to her.

Richard thanked him and left the office.

As soon as he was in the lobby of the building, he dialed Lillian’s cell phone.

F
rom her perch behind the fruit stand, Alvirah waited for Lillian to come out of the bank. At ten after nine Willy drove around the corner, waved to her, and once again began to circle the block. At twenty after nine, when the door of the bank opened, Lillian stepped out onto the sidewalk. As Alvirah had expected, the folded tote bag she had been carrying under her arm was now firmly grasped in her left hand and obviously contained something.

Willy should be back any second now, Alvirah thought, then realized with dismay that Lillian was walking up the one-way street against the traffic. She’s probably going home, Alvirah decided. The best thing I can do is follow her and call Willy on the cell.

But at the corner of Broadway, Lillian darted across the avenue, and Alvirah realized that she might be heading for the subway entrance.

Lillian was moving quickly. Alvirah picked up her own pace, puffing from the effort of keeping up but staying a short distance behind. With one eye she was trying to catch Willy when he came around the block again, but when he sailed past he was not looking in her direction. He’ll just have to keep driving around. I can’t start fishing in my pocketbook for my cell phone now, she thought.

It was with a tremendous burst of energy that she managed to keep as close to Lillian as she dared without Lily’s seeing her as they
both descended the subway steps. There was no train there, but the platform was crowded and the sound of an approaching train could be heard. Alvirah watched as at the same moment, she and Lillian reached into their pockets for their MetroCards. Then, standing a few people back from Lillian in the line, Alvirah followed her through the turnstile and saw that a train was pulling in. Lillian hurried onto the platform to board the train. Grateful that it was already crowded, Alvirah slipped onto the same subway car, careful to conceal herself behind several portly riders.

From the other end of the car Alvirah observed as Lillian stood, her eyes downcast, holding onto a pole with one hand and tightly clutching the tote bag with the other. But then as the train approached the Chambers Street station some twenty minutes later, Lillian began to move toward an exit door. When the train stopped, Alvirah waited for a moment to be sure that Lillian was getting off, then left the train herself in the middle of a large group.

The large exodus onto the platform meant that she was half a flight of stairs behind Lillian, who was hurrying up the subway steps to the street. Alvirah fumed with frustration as directly ahead of her a heavyset woman with a cane ascended the stairs, one step at a time. Try as she might, with the two-way traffic on the stairs, Alvirah could not make her way past or around her.

When she finally made it to street level, Alvirah frantically spun her head in all directions.

There was no sign of Lillian.

A
t twenty minutes after ten, he drove up to the heavy metal delivery doors at the back of the warehouse, Lillian beside him in the front passenger seat. It had taken less than ten minutes from where he picked her up at the subway exit to get to this isolated industrial neighborhood two blocks from the East River.

His corporate shell companies, created on paper for the sole purpose of hiding his identity, owned the boarded-up buildings on either side of this one. It was here that he had created his own splendid and secret world of antiquity. In a way he mourned the fact that he had never been able to share the magnificence of his priceless collection with another human being. Today it would happen. Lillian would be dazzled and awed. He could picture her eyes widening when she took in all the treasures of the second floor. And he knew that the greatest treasure of all was in the bag that she was grasping so tightly.

Jonathan had shown it to him, had let him remove it from the protective glassine envelope he had placed around it, had allowed him to touch it and to feel it, and to validate its authenticity.

It
was
authentic. There was no doubt about it. It was the one and only letter written by the Christ, and it had been written to the man who had befriended Him from His boyhood. Christ knew that soon He would be lying in Joseph’s tomb. He knew that even after His death, Joseph would once again be caring for Him.

The entire world would be mesmerized to see this, he thought. And it is mine.

“Where on earth are we going?” Lillian asked querulously.

“As I told you when I picked you up, I have an office in my warehouse where we can have complete privacy. Would you have wanted me to explain the details of the overseas account that I set up for you on a crowded sidewalk on Chambers Street?”

He could tell that she was only impatient, not yet nervous.

He pushed the button on the visor of the car and the massive delivery door lumbered noisily upward. Then he drove inside and pushed the button again to close the door behind them. It became pitch-dark as the door slid back down and he heard Lillian’s quick gasp, unmistakably the first sign of her realization that something might be terribly wrong.

He hurriedly reassured her. He wanted to observe and savor her reaction upon seeing his treasures, but she wouldn’t even look at them if she knew what was going to happen to her. From his pocket, he took the remote that activated the garage overhead light and clicked it on. “This is pretty barren, as you can see,” he said, smiling. “But my office is upstairs, and I assure you that it is much more inviting.”

He could see that she was not completely at ease. “Are there other people upstairs?” she asked. “I don’t see any other cars here. This place seems deserted.”

He allowed a touch of annoyance to creep into his tone. “Lillian, do you think I wanted an audience for this transaction?”

“No, of course not. Let’s go right to your office and get this done. Classes start next week, and I have a lot of errands to do.”

“With all this money, you’re still going to deal with students?” he asked as they got out of the car. He motioned her to the back wall. He slipped his hand under her arm as they walked across the cavernous windowless room. “This is the main level,” he explained. Then,
leaning down, he pushed the hidden button at the bottom of the wall and the large lift began to descend.

“My God, what kind of setup is this?” Lillian asked, startled.

“Inventive, isn’t it? Come upstairs with me,” he said as he nudged her onto the lift. The two of them rode it to the next level, then stepped into the room. He waited until she was right beside him. “Ready?” he asked as he turned on the light. “Welcome to my kingdom,” he announced.

His eyes never left her face as she stepped into the enormous room and looked incredulously from one of the glorious antiquities he had gathered there to the next.

“However did you collect all of this?” she asked, stunned. “And why do you keep it here?” She spun around to face him. “And why did you bring me to a place like this?” she demanded. “This isn’t an office!” She stared at him, her face and lips suddenly turning pale. From the triumphant smile on his parted lips she knew that he had entrapped her. Panicking, she dropped the tote bag and made a quick move to shove past him.

Instantly, she felt his viselike grip pinning her body to him. “I’m going to be merciful, Lillian,” he said softly as he reached into his pocket for the syringe.

“You’ll just feel a prick and then nothing. I promise you. Nothing at all.”

A
s soon as Alvirah realized she had lost Lillian, she phoned Willy.

“Where have you been, honey?” he asked. “I was getting worried about you. I’ve circled the block a million times. The traffic cop thinks I’m a stalker. What’s going on?”

“Willy, I’m sorry. I chased behind her into the subway. I got on the same train and ducked down behind some big guys. She got off at Chambers Street, but I lost her in the crowd going up the stairs.”

“That’s too bad. What do you want to do now?”

“I’m going to come back uptown and sit in her lobby. If it takes all day, I’m going to have a showdown with that lady. Why don’t you go on home?”

“No way,” he replied firmly. “I don’t like this whole business, and with Rory missing, who knows who’s doing what? I’ll park the car at Lincoln Center and come in and sit with you.”

Alvirah knew that when Willy used that tone of voice, there was no changing his mind. Taking one last look around in the hope that Lillian might emerge from one of the many office buildings in the area, she sighed in resignation and retraced her steps back down into the subway.

Twenty-five minutes later she was at the door of Lillian’s apartment building across from Lincoln Center again. The doorman told
her that Ms. Stewart was not home and then added, “There’s a lady and a gentleman already waiting for her in the lobby, ma’am.”

That would be Willy, Alvirah thought. I wonder who the woman is? On quick reflection, she decided that it would be Mariah.

She was right. Mariah and Willy were seated on leather chairs on opposite sides of a round glass table in a corner of the lobby. They were deep in conversation, but both looked up when they heard her footsteps clicking on the marble floor.