“I thought you said nothing was going on up there.”
“Nothing that I know about. But what if there is? Then I’m stuck right in the middle of it. And I’m not stupid. If the FBI is nosing around, something must be off.”
“And all you have to do is get me into the building. I can take it from there. You know the doorman?”
“Well, yeah.”
“So? Are they having a party tonight?”
Axilrod glanced at Blum and then looked at Pine, and her expression appeared resigned. “Actually, they are.”
“How do you know they’re having one tonight?” Blum asked.
“Because Tony told me about it last week. We were supposed to go together. But I haven’t heard a word from him since.”
“Well, you and I can go together. Okay, Lindsey?” said Pine.
Axilrod finally nodded. “Okay. But if things get hairy, I’m outta there.”
Chapter 26
AXILROD AND PINE SHARED an Uber into the city. They had met up in Newark and ridden in from there.
Axilrod had on tight, dark dress jeans, a white blouse open at the neck and showing a bit of cleavage, a short denim jacket, and three-inch heels.
Pine was dressed in jeans as well, and a black bomber jacket with a dark blouse buttoned all the way up. For obvious reasons she had left her guns and creds back in her hotel room.
“What are we going to do when we get up there?” asked Axilrod nervously.
“Mingle, listen, and watch. Try to find a lead on Tony. I don’t expect to hit the jackpot, but anything we learn will be more than I have now.”
“Hey, do you think Tony will be there? He hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls.”
“Let’s just say I would be surprised if he is, but I’ve been surprised before.”
They got out at the address and Pine looked up. They were on the south end of Central Park between Seventh and Eighth Avenues, and the building they were about to go into was twelve hundred feet high.
After Puller had told her about this building, Pine had done some digging. The cheapest apartment in the place went for forty-three million dollars. The most expensive unit was the penthouse, which took up the entire top floor and also the entire floor below it. They were connected by both a grand stairway and a private elevator. Pine had learned that this two-story mansion had been purchased by a Saudi prince for one hundred and ten million bucks, and he spent less than three weeks there a year.
There were no vacant units. There were also no full-time residents. These places were not homes; they were safe-deposit boxes, a way to move money out of a country where the government sometimes took things from the rich without paying for them. Or, they were a perfect way to launder money that had been made in illegal ways overseas.
The uniformed doorman, who, to Pine’s discerning eye, carried more muscled bulk and keener observation skills than most doormen in the Big Apple, led them into a small but palatial lobby and over to the concierge desk. There they were met by a broad-shouldered young man with thick, wavy hair, an expensive blue suit complete with white pocket square, and a helpful, inquisitive look.
Pine figured he had a tricky balance here. He couldn’t afford not to be suspicious, but he also couldn’t afford to piss off a VIP, either. She assumed he had been rigidly trained to perform that duty as well as it could be.
“Yes?” he said, looking between Axilrod and Pine.
“I’m Lindsey Axilrod, remember me? I’m usually here with Tony Vincenzo.”
“Oh, yes, of course, hello, Ms. Axilrod, good to see you again. I’m afraid Mr. Vincenzo is not here.”
“I know, but he told me to meet him here. I, um, I think he’s coming later. I’m assuming there’s stuff going on up there, like usual.”
He said diplomatically, “There are others in the unit tonight, yes.” He turned to Pine. “And your friend?”
Pine put out her hand. “I’m Angela. Lindsey said it would be okay to come with her.”
“Tony thought so, too,” added Axilrod quickly. “He wanted Angela to come tonight.”
“Come on and I’ll get you on the elevator, then.”
He pressed his thumbprint to the scan pad next to the elevator and then punched in the floor number. The doors slid open, and Pine and Axilrod stepped on. The doors closed and the car lifted off, swiftly traveling ninety floors up, where it opened into what could only be described as a raucous scene unfolding over some of the most expensive real estate on earth.
Pine could see about forty people, most of them under thirty, many of them drunk and getting drunker. They were standing in small pockets of conversation, or draped over the massive furniture, or leaning against a wall, or sitting on tables, or heading off, hands on firm asses, to more private spaces.
The next thing she noticed were the two burly men dressed in dark clothes with bumps near the chest for their weapons.
One of them put out a large hand. “Purses.”
It wasn’t a question.
They handed the men their purses and they were thoroughly searched and then handed back. Next, they were efficiently patted down by the men.
“Names?” one asked.
They gave them.
“I’m usually here with Tony Vincenzo,” said Axilrod. “I’ve seen you before.”
The burly man swept out a hand and said, “Right. Enjoy.”
They walked over to a bar that was set up along one wall. Beyond that were sweeping views of the city. On the streets far below were the winks of thousands of vehicles. A slim jet cruised past their line of sight to its final descent into LaGuardia. Next to them was another splinter building where the überrich lived far above the rabble, at least in their own minds.
Pine and Axilrod ordered drinks, a rum and Coke and a champagne cocktail, respectively.
Pine’s gaze kept sweeping the room like radar sucking up as much information as possible. She checked out Burly One and Burly Two at the door. They were not paying her any more attention than they were anyone else.
“Recognize anybody?” asked Pine. “Specifically someone who knows Tony?”
“The two guys over there,” said Axilrod. “I’ve been here with Tony and talked to them. They seemed to know him, but just to say hello and talk sports.”
“Okay, anyone else here from Fort Dix you recognize?”
Axilrod slowly surveyed the room. “That woman over there, in the corner doing a lip-lock with that guy.”
Pine looked to where she was indicating. The woman was petite and in her twenties with stringy ash-blond hair. She was too thin, and her skin was pale and unhealthy looking. Her legs, encased in black jeans, looked like pencils flowing down into red high heels that raised her height to about five four.
“Her name?”
“Sheila Weathers.”
“What does she do at Fort Dix?”
“She works at the commissary.”
“She looks like a drug user. The eyes, twitchy limbs. You know anything about that?”
“No.”
“How does she know Tony?”
“He eats in the commissary. I’ve seen them talking. A lot.”
Pine put her drink down. “Let’s go then. She looks like she wants to be rescued from that guy.”