Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies

He didn't feature trekking all the way out to Sag Harbor again, so he took his next reading in the little park on the Flushing side of the Whitestone Bridge. This time the line traveled a more westerly path, crossing the first line in Ulster County.

Could be good news or could be a fluke. The next reading would tell.

The lower left corner of Jack's New York map showed a portion of North Jersey. He took the Lincoln Tunnel into the lovely paved vistas of the Garden State and followed Route 3 to where it crossed the Parkway. Since that particular intersection was on his map, he stopped in a nearby strip mall parking lot and let the chassis take another run.

Jack smiled when he checked the path with his compass: this time it headed east of due north. Good. At least they wouldn't have to go to the north pole to find the transmitter.

The third line met the others in Ulster County, a little west of New Paltz.

If he was right, if the receiver was designed to point the way to its power source, then the transmitter was somewhere in the vicinity of intersection of those three lines.

Looked like he and Alicia would be on their way to the Catskills tomorrow—if Sam Baker and his boys didn't interfere. Jack had told Sean to call Thomas's lawyer and start the paperwork to sell the house. Hopefully that would keep Kemel off balance enough to allow Jack and Alicia to sneak out of town.

Alicia… he'd been so wound up about this broadcast power thing that he'd almost forgotten about the filth in those envelopes. A big part of him was pushing to build a fire and reduce them to ash, but another part said that it might make Alicia's world a brighter place if she could watch those negatives curling and blackening and smoking in the flames.

But giving her the envelopes meant he'd have to be there when she realized what was in them. He didn't want to see her face, didn't want to imagine what she'd be feeling at that moment. Because he could never imagine.

Still undecided, he headed back to New York.

10.

Yoshio stood in a doorway where he could see both the front entrance to the AIDS Center and the length of the alley that ran along its uptown flank. Earlier this afternoon he had been parked in his usual spot when he had seen Jack-san enter the Center. He had not seen him come out, and had assumed that he was spending the afternoon there.

But just moments ago Yoshio had been startled to see Jack-san—carrying a large Staples shopping bag—reenter the Center. Yoshio knew he had not missed his exit. This could only mean that there was another way out.

He discovered the alleyway after a minute or two of hurried searching. How careless of him. But he wasted no time berating himself. He had missed the earlier opportunity to follow Jack-san, but he would not sneak away so easily again.

Yoshio rushed back to his car when he saw Jack-san and Alicia Clayton leave by the front entrance and walk along Seventh Avenue. Jack-san still carried the Staples bag. He followed them around the corner as they headed east. He kept waiting for them to hail a taxi or get into a car, but instead they ducked into a subway entrance on Sixth Avenue.

Yoshio groaned and pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Yes, he could park the car—legally or otherwise—and follow them on foot, but that would be futile. Even if he caught up to him, Jack-san would have no trouble spotting him.

The ronin was taking no chances.

Yoshio sighed. Another missed opportunity. He was not likely to see Jack-san or Alicia Clayton again tonight, so who else should he watch? Samuel Baker, Kemel Muhallal, or the other Clayton?

He would choose later. Right now he wanted to make preparations for the next time Jack-san tried one of his tricks. Yoshio would be ready for him.

He hoped.

11.

"Don't tell me this is another one of your decoy homes," Alicia said, "because I won't believe it."

What am I doing here? she wondered as she wandered among the antiques and wall hangings on the second floor. They'd taken the F train down to West Fourth, then grabbed the A back up to Twenty-third, and now here she was in this elegant Victorian town house in Chelsea.

"No, afraid not," Jack said, watching the street from a front window. "I just happen to have a key to it."

"You seem to know your way around the place. Where's the owner?"

"He's dead."

"Hiding in a dead man's house…" Alicia shivered. She didn't like this place. "I feel like a fugitive."

"In a way, you are." Jack turned from the window.

Something about the way he was looking at her now. The same something she'd sensed during their subway ride. Something wasn't right.

"But hopefully it's just for tonight," he said. "If we can find that transmitter tomorrow, and go public with it, you should be home free."

"Why should that stop them?"