"Sorry. These are all for somebody else." "All?" Cavanaugh looked at the stack. "Must be that party on the seventh floor. That's one of the reasons we came down here. They're making so much racket."

"Nope. This bunch goes to"-the delivery guy squinted through his spectacles toward a piece of paper taped to the insulated wrapper-"nineteen eleven."

"Lucky them," Jamie said. "Guess we'll just have to wait and have another cigarette."

"Shouldn't be long," the driver said. "Sorry we bothered you," Cavanaugh said. "No problem." Balancing the pizza boxes, the delivery guy walked up to the glass door at the entrance just as somebody came out and held the door open for him.

Jamie stubbed out her cigarette. "What was that about? Did you really believe those pizzas would be going to John's apartment?"

"Maybe not this time. But eventually, pizzas or Chinese or some kind of food will probably be delivered there." "How can you be sure?"

"Because I've seen guards make that mistake too many times before. Round-the-clock watchdog duty is tedious. If the guys on the security team don't have any discipline, they keep thinking about eating. They could scrounge the cupboards and cook, but most of them aren't good at it." Except for Chad who could make anything taste delicious, Cavanaugh thought, sorrow blindsiding him. "They start fantasizing about pizza or egg rolls and chicken chow mein. If this is part of the bunch that tried to grab Prescott at the warehouse, they have a few rough edges that suggest they're the type to give in and have food delivered." "We could wait for hours." "If it's going to happen, it'll be sooner rather than later. My call to John was less than an hour ago. Before then, they were too preoccupied to think about food. But now they're getting a routine established."

"Won't the building's guard get curious about us hanging around out here?"

"He can't see us."

"Why?"

"The last time I was here, I noticed that the lobby's more brightly lit than this outside walkway. The glare in there reflects off the inside windows. The guard can't see out."

"But what about the camera above the door?"

"You spotted that? It's pointed toward the area in front of the door, not toward the street. When we get John out of there, I'm going to tell him to move to a building with better security."

"Is that a mind trick you use with your clients?"

"'Mind trick'?"

" 'When we get John out of there.' You put me in the future and made me believe everything's going to be fine. It's very reassuring."

Another car stopped at the building's delivery zone, this one marked pizza hut.

"My turn." Jamie looked grateful for something to do to control her nerves.

As the driver pulled pizza boxes from the car, she approached him, rubbing her hands together in hungry anticipation. "Hi. We decided to come down for a smoke and save you the trouble of going upstairs. Unit six twenty-eight. We're starved."

The pimply teenager looked starved as well, but for something other than food. He nearly dropped his boxes at the sight of the attractive woman standing next to him. "Um," he said. "Um. Lemme see." He studied a delivery slip taped to a box. "Yep, six twenty-eight."

"Wonderful."

"Two mediums? One pepperoni and black olives? The other deluxe?"

"Exactly. They smell delicious. How much do I owe you?" Jamie added a tip and took the two boxes. "See you next time."

"Yes, ma'am." The kid blushed. "Thank you." He looked flustered as he got in the car and drove away.

"Two medium pizzas. Enough for two husky guards," Jamie said.

"Seems that way to me," Cavanaugh said, "unless there's only one guard and he's being generous to his prisoner, which I doubt."

"That they ordered food means they're feeling comfortable, right?"

"Right. They assume nobody knows they're keeping John prisoner."

"So what happens now?" Jamie asked.

"We go back to the park, find somebody sleeping in the bushes, and donate these pizzas. All we need are the boxes."

Jamie looked puzzled.

"I need to tear off the top of one box and the bottom of the other so I can stack them together to hold my Kevlar vest," Cavanaugh said.

15

The guard looked up from the counter as Jamie held the door open and Cavanaugh carried the pizza boxes into the lobby. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare of the lights.

"Hi. We're with the surprise party for Ted up in nineteen eleven," Cavanaugh said.

The guard's face was stern. "A bunch of pizzas went up about twenty minutes ago."

"I knew we should have brought ribs, french fries, and coleslaw," Jamie said.

"You really do think a lot about food," Cavanaugh said, trying to sound humorous in spite of the tightness in his chest.

"Tell them to make sure to keep the noise down," the guard said. "We don't want complaints from the neighbors."

"Mum's the word," Cavanaugh said.

The guard pressed a button that caused a waist-high gate on the right to buzz and unlock.

"Thanks." They went through and reached the elevators, where Jamie pressed the up button. After a short wait that felt interminable, one set of doors made a ding and opened.

Hating elevators, Cavanaugh entered. As Jamie reached to push the button for the sixth floor, he murmured, "Stop."

"What's the matter?"

"The guard will watch the numbers above the elevator to make sure we go to the floor we said we wanted."

"Ooops." Jamie pushed the button for the nineteenth floor.

The doors closed.

Cavanaugh's legs felt heavy as the elevator rose. He watched orange numbers on a console go from one to two to three. It seemed to take a long time to reach nineteen, enough for him to repeat instructions he'd given to Jamie before they'd entered the building.

"You're sure they'll open the door?" Jamie asked.

"For a pimply delivery kid, they'd keep a chain on the door, hand money through the crack, and tell the kid to hand in the pizzas sideways. But after they get a look at you through the peephole, believe me, they'll open the door. Undo your blouse."

"Excuse me?"

"The top three buttons."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" Jamie undid them.

Good, Cavanaugh silently told her. Keep making jokes. It tells me you're in control.

And what about me? Cavanaugh wondered. Am I in control?

Ding. The doors opened. His breath rate increasing, he stepped out onto a new-looking beige carpet in what smelled like a freshly painted white corridor that had bright overhead lights and no one in view.

A quick look each way showed them a door marked stairs on their right. They pushed through and found themselves in a dank concrete stairwell even more brightly lit than the corridor. As Jamie shut the door, Cavanaugh checked for security cameras but saw none. They listened for noises and heard none. Their footsteps echoed as they descended in a cautious hurry to the sixth floor.

Outside the door, they paused.

"Can you manage this?" Cavanaugh kept his voice low. "I'll be right there next to you. Just do everything exactly as I explained."

Jamie hesitated.

"It's not too late to back out," he said.

"Sure it is," she said. "I'll never be able to force myself to go this far again."

"Maybe you shouldn't go this far at all." "Can you save John without me?" Cavanaugh didn't answer.

"Then give me the boxes." Jamie's pupils were large. Cavanaugh watched her react to the weight of the Kevlar vest in them. She arranged the boxes so they pushed up slightly under her breasts, widening the gap where she'd opened the buttons.

"They'll think they'd died and gone to heaven," Cavanaugh said. "Before you knock on their door, close your eyes for a few seconds. That'll make your pupils smaller, so you won't seem on edge. Remember, if you hear a TV, it means they're careless. Good watchdogs keep the room quiet so they can hear noises outside." Jamie took a deep breath and nodded toward the door. "Open it."