He isolated the email’s source code and opened the text in the web browser. Accessing the online database, he copied in the code and hit confirm once he had finished. Less than a minute later, he received an email with a file attachment.
“Okay, let’s open it up,” said Leopold, downloading the file.
The computer screen showed a two-dimensional map of Manhattan, with a pulsing red dot indicating the origin of the email and a green dot showing their current location. The message had been sent from just a couple of miles away. He zoomed in to street level.
“That’s strange,” said Leopold.
“What is it?” asked Mary
“According to the tracer, the email originated from a computer somewhere on the Columbia campus, but according to the maps, there are no buildings within at least a hundred feet of its location.”
“So maybe the tracer is a little inaccurate. Or maybe someone just used a laptop. At least we know someone at the University has been threatening Christina.”
“Actually, this software is cutting edge and accurate to within three feet,” said Leopold, scrolling through a long text file that had accompanied the tracer results. “According to the data here, the email was sent from a machine hooked up to a hard line, so it couldn’t have been a laptop or cell phone. It would have to be a computer linked up to the University’s own physical network via cable.”
“Wouldn’t a machine like that be inside?” asked Mary. “There’s no buildings there.”
“That’s the problem with two dimensional maps,” said the consultant, frowning. “They can’t tell you anything about elevation. The computer we’re looking for must be underground. The University keeps its storage and archive rooms beneath the main campus, and plenty of areas will have been sealed off over time. We just need to get down there and take a look.”
“How do we get in?” asked Mary. “Most of the campus is closed to the public.”
“Thankfully, I’m not a member of the general public. According to rumor, Columbia has a series of underground tunnels that connect most of these rooms together,” said Leopold, drawing a line on the map with his finger. “If we can get into the secured areas of the University, we can use the tunnels to get around unnoticed. Do you think you can turn on the charm if we run into security?”
“Of course,” Mary smiled, and batted her eyelids to emphasize her point.
Leopold smiled back. “Good. Let’s get moving, before Cupid works out we’ve accessed his machine and makes a run for it.”
“What about the other evidence? We should catalogue it and keep it secured.”
“Spoken like a true police officer. It’ll still be here later. Right now we have to get hold of Cupid before he slips away for good. You need to put in the call to the precinct and have someone you trust come down here and seal off the apartment.”
“No problem,” said Mary, pulling out her cell phone.
“And make sure they don’t touch anything,” said Leopold. “I’ve got enough to worry about without finding doughnut powder over all the forensic evidence.”
Mary scowled and made the call.
Chapter 20
Leopold was excited. He’d heard many rumours about the tunnels under Columbia and had read extensively on the subject, although he had never had the chance to explore them personally. Until now. The oldest tunnels predated the existence of the University campus, when Morningside Heights was home to the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum. Since the University was granted permission to block itself off from the main thoroughfares, the tunnels had fallen largely into disuse, although Leopold knew that a small minority of students still devoted much of their energy to exploring the now-forbidden underground network.
Leopold, Mary, and Jerome arrived at the Columbia University campus just after lunch, as the crowds of students began to disperse. The consultant once again accessed the University’s wireless network through his cell phone and ran a search as he led them back toward the Low Memorial Library.
“According to records, the first cabled network with Internet access was installed in the basement of Pupin Hall during the early nineties,” said Leopold. “Since then, the whole area was closed off, so that’s a good place to start looking.”
“Won’t they have sealed off the basement from the tunnel entrance as well?” asked Mary.
“We’ll have to hope not. Most of the tunnels are unmapped and potentially unstable, so carrying out any construction work down there would be a bad idea. My guess is they just locked up the classrooms and forgot about the place.”
“You’re making this sound like a really great idea, Leopold,” said Mary. “How do we know this particular tunnel even exists?”
“We don’t. But we have to at least assume some entrance exists; otherwise how would Cupid have access? We need to find someone who can get us into the tunnels and guide us through to the basement at Pupin.”
“Where do we find someone like that?”
“I can make some calls,” said Jerome “I know a good place to start looking.”
The bodyguard dropped behind, talking quickly into his cell phone. The three of them made their way across the courtyard toward the Business School, an ugly stone-fronted building that loomed high over an otherwise pleasant garden area to the rear of the Low Library rotunda. The area was mostly deserted, despite the pleasant early afternoon sun, as most people had gone back inside for afternoon classes.
“Looks like I’ve found us a lead,” said Jerome, “a guy by the name of Renard who runs unofficial tours of the Columbia tunnels. Apparently he’s a former student and lives pretty close by.”
“Did you get a telephone number?” asked Leopold.
“Yes, I’ll give him a call now.”
“Good. Ask him to meet us here at the Uris Hall Business School as soon as possible, and tell him we can pay cash.”
Jerome dialed the number and waited for the call to go though. A few moments later, he hung up the phone and gave a thumbs-up.
“He’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’ve had some more information sent through about Hank,” said Leopold, pulling out his own cell phone and scrolling through his long list of emails. “I got a hit on the bank account records we found. My contact sent through a summary of transactions for the last twelve months. Nothing out of the ordinary until just a few weeks ago.”
“Let me guess,” said Mary. “An unusually large cash deposit?”
“Correct. Twenty thousand dollars, to be precise. Paid to him in one instalment by a company called Greenway Investments.”
“Greenway? Never heard of them.”
“Neither had my contact. He tried to find some data, but all he could track down was a registered business address in The Bahamas.”
“That’s it?” asked Mary.
“For now. He’s going to keep digging, but it sounds like a phantom to me. A business entity set up for the sole purpose of hiding money.”
“Looks like we’ve hit a road block on this one.”
“Not necessarily,” said Leopold, punching a text message into his cell as he spoke. “It at least tells us something useful.”
“And that is?”
Leopold slipped the smart phone back into his jacket pocket and looked Mary in the eye. “It tells us whoever made that payment didn’t want to be found.”
Chapter 21
Christina wanted to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. The room hung hazily in front of her disjointed eyes, a blur of gray and white. There had been a bright light. There had been a man with silver eyes, and then there had been pain. But Christina couldn’t remember why.