Page 118 of Witness 8

‘I do what I need to do to protect my mom.’

‘And that is admirable,’ said Mr. Christmas, and he sipped at his coffee and thought for a moment, then said, ‘You are not afraid of me.’

‘No, I am afraid. But I don’t show it. Do I need to be afraid of you?’

He smiled.

‘What are your plans now?’ he asked.

‘I have things I have to do. Then I am going to do what my father did. I’m going to disappear.’

‘These things you need to do, are they to protect your mother?’

She nodded.

‘And after that you are going where?’

‘There’s a poster on my bedroom wall. It’s from the eighties, I think. An ad campaign for Cadillac. A blue one. Convertible. There’s a woman behind the wheel and she’s on one of those long straight roads in the desert somewhere that just goes on and on and on, and she’s just driving. Her blond hair is blowing in the wind and the sun is shining. That’s where I’m going.’

‘I like you, Ruby Johnson. Someday, we should go to the movies together. Just as friends. You like movies?’

‘I like movies. I like the ones where people drive. When they go on a road trip.’

‘Then it’s a date. Tell me more of your plans.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t,’ she said.

Mr. Christmas drew the pistol from his jacket, laid it on his lap, said, ‘Would you rather discuss Marlon Brando?’

She looked at the gun. Mr. Christmas took another drink from his coffee cup.

‘Alright, I’ll tell you the truth,’ said Ruby.

Mr. Christmas, upon exiting Ruby’s building, met Lake on the street. Lake passed on the message about a meeting with Flynn.

Mr. Christmas never passed up a meeting with a target.

And now, here he was on Norfolk Street. He drove by a parked Mustang, Flynn’s car, and pulled in, the memory of his afternoon with Ruby still playing in his mind. He got out of the car, stepped to the sidewalk and looked up and down the street.

Two men, he guessed they were homeless by their dress, halfway up on his side of the street. One of the men pulled a thin strip of dark metal from his pants and began to slide it in between the glass and the doorframe of Flynn’s Mustang. More than half of the streetlights were in darkness. No security cameras anywhere. This was an ideal spot to steal a car, or just break in and grab whatever was inside, including radios, cash,bags. Mr. Christmas looked at his car, and his gaze travelled to the trunk.

He looked at the men. Then back to the trunk of his Lincoln.

He could not take any chances.

Using the fob, he clicked the button to release the trunk lid, retrieved Ruby’s blue gym bag, closed the trunk and locked the car. The beep and the flash of lights briefly drew the attention of the two men breaking into Flynn’s car. Mr. Christmas stared at them. They slowly moved away.

With the bag in his hand, he turned to try to find the entrance to his meeting place with Flynn. A small metal gate, about waist height, barred a set of stairs that led to a tunnel under the building. A handmade sign on the gate said,Lower East Side Toy Company.

He pushed open the gate, took a firm grip on the handles of the gym bag and slowly descended the steps into the tunnel. When in dark, possibly hostile places, Mr. Christmas never used a flashlight. Instead, he stood there for a minute, letting his eyesight adjust to the darkness. No point in advertising your arrival. Plus, if he held a flashlight in his free hand, it would hamper him reaching for his pistol.

At the end of the tunnel was a small courtyard, and a large oak door. A large man, possibly made out of oak himself, stood beside the door. As Mr. Christmas approached, he stepped to one side, and opened the door for him.

Warm light spilled onto the cobbled courtyard.

Inside, it was a time warp. An antique parquet floor. A rosewood bar, wallpaper that was as old as the building, and a split-level staircase that led to leather seats and an open fire on the floor above. There were only a few patrons at the bar. The hostess, in a green flowing dress, approached him and said, ‘Welcome to the Back Room. I’ll take you to see Eddie.’ Linking his arm in hers, she guided him up the stairs and across theroom. There was no one in the armchairs in front of the fire, and for a moment Mr. Christmas wondered if he had misheard her, but then she walked right up to a bookcase and gently pushed on one side. A secret door was revealed to another room, in the same style.

Again, empty.