The Payback Assignment (29 page)

           
“The woman’s a little past it,” Morgan said.

           
“Never mind her,” Felicity said, playfully slapping his head.
 
“That’s the brooch.”

           
“Pretty,” Morgan said.

           
“Pretty?
 
Why it’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve seen in an entire life of crime.”

           
“Well anyway, at least we know we’re in the right city,” Morgan said.

           
“Yes, and this party was big news,” Felicity said.
 
“I’ll know that brooch’s address by tonight.
 
And then, I’m going to go claim it.”

           
“I thought you wanted your money?”

           
“After this guy tried to have us killed, don’t you think we ought to be getting both?” Felicity asked.

           
“I guess that’s reasonable, Red.
 
But we don’t need to rush out and get it today, do we?”

           
“You’re right, I suppose,” Felicity said.
 
“No point pursuing it on a Sunday.
 
So I guess we have a whole day.
 
What say we see the city?”

           
An hour later, Morgan and Felicity were walking slowly down Fifth Avenue, with only a steady stream of traffic separating them from Central Park.
 
They had decided to dress casually and show each other New York.
 
The oaks were shedding their summer covering, and Morgan realized he missed the swirling eddies of multicolored confetti that whipped through the gutters.
 
Felicity turned her face away as a bus pulled past, belching carbon monoxide.

           
“You know, I can’t remember the last time I used public transportation,” Felicity said when she could face him again.
 
“This could be an adventure.”

           
“Yeah, well I think driving would have been a lot more exciting,” Morgan said, “considering that whoever’s looking for us knows your car.
 
I don’t think there’s much danger of anybody coming after us on foot.”

           
They had only to walk a couple of blocks to leave the area Felicity was familiar with, and this wasn’t an area of the city Morgan knew well either.
 
But with traffic adding a white noise background they meandered at a gentle pace, enjoying the sun on their faces on a cool, cloudless day.
 
A few blocks south of Felicity’s apartment, Morgan stopped to stare up at a group of tiny hooded cherubs carved into a column beside an ornate wrought iron gate.

           
“What the hell’s behind there?”

           
“Actually, it’s a French Gothic chateau, believe it or not, right in the middle of New York City,” Felicity said.
 
“Used to be some wealthy fellow’s house.
 
Now it’s the Ukrainian Institute of America.”

           
“You’re kidding.”

           
“Who could make something like that up?” she asked with a smile.
 
“And, by the way, your prediction was a little off.
 
We’ve picked up some company.
 
A lot smoother than the idiots who followed me yesterday.
 
About a half a block back.”

           
“Damn.
 
Must have been watching the door, waiting for us to come out,” Morgan replied.
 
He casually looked back and zeroed in on a short black man in jacket and tie who worked at not looking back at him.
 
“I’ve got him.
 
Doesn’t look like a shooter.
 
Probably bird dogging for somebody else.
 
That his back up across the street, a block back, in the leather coat?”

           
“Uh huh,” Felicity said, leading him to the curb.
 
“There’s a third man a block behind number one on our side.
 
Let’s screw them up and cross the street.”
  

           
As they stepped into the street Felicity looked back, appearing to check traffic.
 
On the other side she stopped, pretending to examine the route map at a bus stop.
 
She nodded her appreciation, speaking to Morgan without looking at him.

           
“Very good.
 
Number two moved up.
 
Number three crossed the street back there.
 
You know, the FBI uses a three man team just like this.”

           
“If they’re tracking us for somebody else, they’ll do anything not to be made, even if it means losing us,” Morgan said as they resumed their walk.
 
“Did you say you run?”

           
“For exercise, yes.
 
Why?”

           
Without warning, he turned and started jogging into Central Park.
 
Felicity tucked her purse under her arm and followed.
 
They trotted cross-country where anyone following them would be very obvious.
 
When their aimless run again brought them to a street, he stopped and they both burst out laughing.
 
They were still chuckling a little when a bus stopped in front of them.
 
They boarded without being sure where this bus would take them, not that it mattered.
 
Having shaken their shadows, their tour of New York could now begin.
      
  

           
Felicity pulled Morgan off the bus before he had time to get comfortable, and walked him down to Seventy-ninth Street and the Museum of Natural History.
 
They wandered the dinosaur halls for a while, followed by a visit to the Rose Center, which looks like a gigantic blue marble encased in a Lucite cube.
 
They got comfortable inside the darkened sphere and sat through the show in the Planetarium.
 
After a short bus ride from Central Park West to Central Park South she lunched him at Trader Vic’s in the Plaza.
 
Morgan glanced around at the Pacific island decor while he sipped from a syrupy, colorful, rum-based drink whose name he had already forgotten.
 
Paper lanterns hung from the bamboo and woven rush ceiling.

           
“So, it’s not too much?”
 
Felicity asked, picking up her club sandwich, prodding a bacon strip back under the bread.

           
“No, it’s kind of cool,” Morgan said.
 
“Even though that totem pole in the corner is Polynesian, not Japanese.
 
You picked a good one.
 
And I’ve got to admit I dug the museum too.”

           
Felicity nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
At first I thought I might overawe you with the planetarium, but you sure showed me.
 
Do you know all the constellations?”

           
“I’ve spent a lot of nights under the stars.
 
Hey, here’s a nice surprise,” he added as a slice of cheesecake arrived.
 
It was the dense, golden-topped kind only found in New York, despite what restaurants in other cities advertise.
 
“You’re just full of good surprises.”

           
“I’m thinking maybe I can pop another one,” Felicity said.
 
“A museum uptown you’re sure to be liking.”

           
Preferring trains to buses, Morgan insisted they take the subway to their next destination.
 
They walked down the steps into the tunnel on Eighth Avenue and took the fabled A train as far as 190th Street.
 
That still left them a short bus ride up to Fort Tyron Park and The Cloisters.
 
Just approaching the building cast Morgan back into medieval times.
 
He gazed at the square tower ahead, taking in the four quadrangles, the nearest topped by a vaulted passageway.
 
A few seconds passed before he noticed Felicity’s stare.

           
“I knew you’d love it,” she said.
 
“Takes the mind back to more romantic times, doesn’t it?”

           
Morgan turned to take in the view of the gray Hudson below, and the sheer Palisades across the river.
 
“Romantic?
 
I don’t know.
 
A time when warriors were for real, I can tell you that.”

           
“Myself, I love the gardens here,” Felicity said, taking Morgan’s arm, “but the really cool stuff is inside.”

           
After basking in the beauty of the great treasures of the Middle Ages, Felicity agreed to turn the reins over to Morgan.
 
They were at the very northern edge of Manhattan, but Morgan insisted they board the train again and travel almost to the other end of the island.
 
Their destination was just south of Little Italy.

           
Through the market-choked streets of Chinatown, Morgan led her to an obscure little second floor restaurant on Mott Street that he had discovered years ago.
 
Felicity grinned at the more garish nods to tourism in front of the restaurant, like the telephone booths, each wearing a red pagoda roof.
 
The restaurant’s neon sign, hanging over the sidewalk, was partially covered with Chinese characters.
 
In English, it advertised “Real Chinese Food,” and that it was air-conditioned.
 
The roast duckling was superb, and it delighted Felicity to learn that Morgan could converse with the employees, albeit a little roughly, in Chinese.
 

           
After their meal, Morgan walked her a few blocks north to a dark, smoky jazz club in Greenwich Village.
 
This was one of the few places left where cigarettes were accepted, and a wispy haze hung a few feet off the floor, highlighted around the performers by stage lights.
 
Felicity loved the music and spent the entire evening analyzing it riff by riff, even making comparisons to classical works.
 
Morgan just sat back and mellowed out.

           
Felicity knew it was after four in the morning when they ended their leisurely stroll in the dark across the street from her apartment building.
 
It was hard for her to classify her own mood.
 
She was tired but energized.
 
Perhaps dreamy was the word she was looking for.

           
“I don’t know when I’ve been so comfortable in a man’s company,” she told Morgan, scuffing a toe along the line between two of the hexagonal cement tiles that made up the path out of the park.
 
“Even walking through Central Park in the wee hours, I’ve never felt safer.”

           
“Don’t you always feel safe?” Morgan asked.
 
“Your instincts seem as good as mine.
 
No chance there were ever any watchers lurking in the shadows.”

           
“True, true.
 
And I’ve got to admit I’m a bit surprised at how much I enjoyed taking a look at a familiar city from another person’s viewpoint.”

           
“Me too,” Morgan said.
 
“A great day.
 
And I’m not going to let that asshole behind the bushes spoil it.”

           
Felicity smiled up into his dark eyes.
 
They weren’t hard, like they had been in that Mexican hotel.
 
She was glad.
 
“Do you suppose we can just talk to him?
 
I’m not feeling like he’s a threat to our lives or anything.”

           
“You want to chat?
 
Stay here.”
 
Morgan stepped to the low wall that separates the park from the street, crouched, and seemed to disappear.
 
Felicity moved back a few steps, thinking that the sliver of a crescent moon would give her a view of the events.
 
She focused on a certain group of bushes and waited in silence.
 
After twenty-seven seconds by her flawless reckoning, she heard a rustle of leaves followed by a short, low grunt.
 
After a brief silence, Morgan stood up and stepped out of the bushes, hauling a smaller man by the back of his collar.
 
Arms crossed, Felicity left the path to lean against a nearby tree. The lights of the city formed a corona around her world, yet she knew they would be invisible to passers-by.