Serializing a new novel.
Chapter 6 — Part 1
Fay and Eli are lost in an Amazon rain forest, the victims
of the treachery of their trusted employee Fred Smith. Their
son Dean is studying in Harvard, but now he has come to . . .
New York (July, 2000)
Dean opened the wardrobe and felt for the sliding panel. The
clothing in the wardrobe brushed against his head as he
worked. Next he tapped out the code and pulled open the heavy
door of the safe. Papers were on one side, neatly arranged,
one above the other. In a corner there was a brown envelope
and within it were dollar notes held together by a rubber
band. Credit cards were in the center, in a clear plastic
folder.
Dean had hoped that by looking in his mother's safe he could
find some clue to the cause of his parent's failure to return
on time from their trip to Brazil. But these things told him
nothing.
His father's trusted employee, the deputy chairman of the
supermarket chain, who had called and asked him to meet at
his parent's apartment in New York had said something
strange, something about three million dollars that had been
illegally withdrawn. But here he found nothing like that.
Just the usual three thousand dollars that his father drew
every month for his mother to use for her charity work.
Voices came suddenly from the passage. Dean felt his muscles
tense. The house was supposed to be empty.
"Well, where is he? I thought you said we'd find him here," a
strange voice said.
Then a voice, familiar to him, answered, "Well, that's what
he told me. He said he would be coming straight here. Maybe
he's been held up."
Dean recognized the voice of the deputy chairman, who had
called him. Dean was about to get up.
Then he heard the first voice again. He realized that he had
heard that gravelly voice before. It belonged to the man who
was said to be the head of the crime organization known as
"Murder Incorporated." Rumor was that for a fee, he would see
that any enemy disappeared from the face of the earth,
permanently. He was regularly arrested and bailed, and yet
never was there even a whisper of proof that he had been
involved with wrongdoing.
The first voice came again, that gravelly voice so full of
menace, "Listen . . . we did our side. Told you within a
month they would disappear and they have. It was up to you to
get the boy here."
"I spoke to him. He said he would be here. You don't think he
suspects anything do you?" said the man.
Dean remembered how this man had sympathized with him, how he
had reassured him. "Don't worry. We will soon get to the
bottom of this. We will find your Mom and Dad."
"Naah, why should he suspect anything?" came the harsh voice
once again. "Go into the kitchen and grab a bite. He'll turn
up soon. I'm leaving now. Gus and Jimmy here will see to
everything for you. Soon you will be living the life of
Riley, with a cool three million to thank you for your
help."
As the footsteps and voices went echoing down the corridor,
Dean slowly moved to a new position. His body seemed to be
reacting though his mind felt frozen. He pulled out all the
contents of the safe and placed them inside the small
suitcase that he had brought with him for his overnight
stay.
Dean moved slowly, cautiously to the side door that opened
into the staff quarters. It opened soundlessly and he gave a
sigh of relief. Next he walked to the staff entrance of the
apartment. He prayed quietly that no one had thought to use
the double lock when they had left.
Luck seemed to be on his side. There was a slight jarring
noise as it opened — but it did open. Then he made for
the staff elevator and within moments it had taken him to the
ground floor. A small door led to the sidewalk.
Dean went out and stood for a few moments as the summer heat
blasted him. The dark suit felt like a heavy diver's outfit.
The tie cut into his neck. He had thought he would be
participating in a board meeting on behalf of his father and
so he had dressed for the part, discarding his casual student
gear for his good suit.
Dean began walking to the corner where he had parked his
hired car. He was about to pass the entrance of the apartment
block when he saw the two men with their barely concealed
guns, as they came out of the main doors. He heard one shout
to the other, "Gus thought he heard someone leave by the back
door."
Dean looked around wondering where he could hide before they
spotted him.
Suddenly, from across the road, a crowd of boys appeared.
They were all dressed in dark suits and white shirts, but
mostly they were tie-less. They were sporting black hats or
black skullcaps. "Kippot" his grandfather had called
such caps. They were making for a bus parked on the road not
far from where he stood.
Dean suddenly realized that without his tie, he looked fairly
similar to them. He had no hat, but there was a good chance
that he could blend in with them, that the threatening men
with their guns would not notice him in the crowd. He whipped
off his tie and pushed it into his pocket, and walked
purposefully towards the bus.
As he sat down inside he became aware that the men with the
guns were talking into their phones and separating, moving
down the street, one towards the bus and the other in the
opposite direction. Dean placed his case on the floor and
bent down over it, pretending to make space for it. When he
found the courage to lift his head again, the street men were
no longer in sight and the bus had begun to move away from
the curb.
"Great occasion, the Rov coming back from Eretz Yisroel,
at long last," said the young man sitting next to him.
Dean nodded and smiled and hoped that the response was the
correct one.
"Oi . . . no . . . look you have no kippah. It must
have fallen off in the street when we made for the bus. Do
you have a spare one in your case?"
Dean shook his head. The accent of the young man was
different: New York, but not quite New York. When he opened
his mouth they would know that he didn't belong with them.
Then the questions would start. He needed to think. He needed
the safety of the bus moving along the streets of New York,
farther and farther from the apartment block.
