really fast kick. But weâre in an enclosedspace. Shattering a mirror or damaging the elevator might trigger a hundred alarms. I have a better idea.
âHereâs what I can do for you,â I say.
I take Red out of my pocket and let him see it in my open palm.
âIs that a marble?â he says.
âA red one.â I nod.
âIs it your special one?â he asks, in a tone that suggests he thinks heâs talking to a small child.
âYes, it is,â I say.
I open my palm and Red shoots across the elevator and drops into the pocket where Sam keeps his phone.
This is how cocky, cool, and calculating Sam Gunnery appears to be. I wonât say his eyes donât widen. I wonât say he doesnât flinch as Red makes contact with his cell phone. But he doesnât freak out the way I hoped he would.
Red jumps back into my hand.
My phone announces a text has arrived. I remove it from my pocket.
âOkay, how did you . . . what is that . . . where did you get it?â Finally, I get the flustered reaction I was waiting for.
I raise a finger in the air, leisurely look at my phone, scroll through a few texts, and then I look up at him withwhat I hope is an infuriatingly smug oh, youâre still here? smirk.
âGg45 wants a plus-one for the secret Action Bronson show, cheetamode has a source for the green camo Pumas you wanted, and tedb says, Whereâs the money you owe me, I ainât asking again . . .â
âOkay, stop,â says Sam. âWhat do you need from me that will get me one of whatever that thing is?â
âI need access to the buildingâs surveillance camera feedsâfrom first thing this morning till now.â
Sam takes out his phone and sends a text. He looks up at me. âThat all?â
âSeriously?â I say. âItâs done?â
âGood as,â he says. âThe Squirrelâs on it.â
Sam correctly interprets my reaction as dubious.
âThis squirelly little hacker whoâs hugely in my debt. He needed a place to hide out for reasons I donât need to know. I hooked him up, so heâll get right on it. Whatâs next on the list?â
This Sam Gunnery seems very full of himself, but I could use a thimbleful of his confidence right now when Iâm in a strange town and wildly out of my depth on a mission Iâve barely prepared for
âThirty-ninth floor,â I say.
He presses the gold button. The elevator starts to rise.
âAlex,â he says into his phone, âBridget Wilder and I are going to hang out here a while. Thereâs an archive section with some of the original blueprints. The history of this place is so rich and inspiring, I really feel like Iâm learning to see through the architectâs eyes. Why donât you and the kids head home? Iâll introduce Bridget to the wonders of the Brooklyn-bound F train and weâll catch up with you later. Good idea? Love you lots.â
He smiles at me. âThatâs how itâs done.â
âHow whatâs done?â I say. âWhy the torrent of lies? Youâre not coming with me.â
âListen, Bridget Wilder, if thatâs even your name, you and your marble owe me. Youâre not going anywhere till that little red thing is in my hand.â
Iâm about to protest, but the truth is, Sam Gunnery appears to be a very, very connected guy and, even by my own lofty standards, a very, very skilled liar. He also seems to have a whole lot of experience keeping secrets, so why wouldnât I want him around as I blunder into unknown territory?
âFine,â I pretend to sulk as we rise past the fourteenth floor. âSay nothing, ask no questions, donât get in my way. Do your best to be unobtrusive, check in with your squirrel about my surveillance feeds, and then youâll get a marble.â
âA marble ?â he says. âI want that marble.â He points at