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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 26 из 138Heheard it. Ask him, Ms. Burns.”
I don’t ask Herbert. I scurry away. I don’t even use the elevator; I take the stairs. Hurry!
Chapter 20
EVEN BY MANHATTAN STANDARDS, I’m walking incredibly fast a few minutes later. People are parting for me left and right. I’m a sidewalk Moses.
Next stop, the Fálcon Hotel. Probably the last place in the universe I want to visit. But I have to go there.
Sure, a cab would be quicker. But I’d prefer not to freak out while trapped in a moving vehicle.
No wonder I’m thinking again about my ex-shrink, Dr. Corey. While puffing away on his pretentious pipe, he would espouse these little self-help mantras. Things like “Hang tough!” and “Face your fear!” and “You have to take responsibility for your own life.”
Back then I thought they were all pretty silly, clichés – not unlike a psychiatrist who smokes a pipe.
Yet here they are, sticking in my head, a blast from the past. And they actually seem to be working a little.
I pick up the pace. Only a few more blocks to go.
I can feel the undertow grabbing hold now, sucking me in. Why am I so drawn to this hotel? Well, I happen to know the answer to that one, but it’s a secret I’m taking to my grave. The secret of the Fálcon.
Reaching to my side, I pat my shoulder bag for the outline of my camera. I know it’s there; I checked as always before exiting my apartment, but I’m leaving nothing to chance.
The speed walking breaks into a jog as I cross over Park Avenue at 68th Street. Up ahead, around the corner on Madison, is the Fálcon.
My heart starts to pummel my chest, and I can feel the veins in my neck throbbing.
You can do this, Kris. Nobody is going to solve this but you.
I’m steps away from the corner. Do I hear a crowd still gathered? Is that a siren? There’s only one way to find out.
But my feet have other ideas.
I stop shy of the corner, fighting the undertow and giving in to my fear. I’m afraid to look.
Don’t be such a wimp!
That’s not exactly one of Dr. Corey’s mantras, but it does the trick just the same. Taking a deep breath and balling my fists, I push around the corner and stare.
At absolutely nothing.
What I see is a typical New York street scene outside the Fálcon – people coming and going, cars and cabs sputtering along in front of the hotel’s bright red awning. It’s as if nothing happened.
Duh.
I don’t ask Herbert. I scurry away. I don’t even use the elevator; I take the stairs. Hurry!
Chapter 20
EVEN BY MANHATTAN STANDARDS, I’m walking incredibly fast a few minutes later. People are parting for me left and right. I’m a sidewalk Moses.
Next stop, the Fálcon Hotel. Probably the last place in the universe I want to visit. But I have to go there.
Sure, a cab would be quicker. But I’d prefer not to freak out while trapped in a moving vehicle.
No wonder I’m thinking again about my ex-shrink, Dr. Corey. While puffing away on his pretentious pipe, he would espouse these little self-help mantras. Things like “Hang tough!” and “Face your fear!” and “You have to take responsibility for your own life.”
Back then I thought they were all pretty silly, clichés – not unlike a psychiatrist who smokes a pipe.
Yet here they are, sticking in my head, a blast from the past. And they actually seem to be working a little.
I pick up the pace. Only a few more blocks to go.
I can feel the undertow grabbing hold now, sucking me in. Why am I so drawn to this hotel? Well, I happen to know the answer to that one, but it’s a secret I’m taking to my grave. The secret of the Fálcon.
Reaching to my side, I pat my shoulder bag for the outline of my camera. I know it’s there; I checked as always before exiting my apartment, but I’m leaving nothing to chance.
The speed walking breaks into a jog as I cross over Park Avenue at 68th Street. Up ahead, around the corner on Madison, is the Fálcon.
My heart starts to pummel my chest, and I can feel the veins in my neck throbbing.
You can do this, Kris. Nobody is going to solve this but you.
I’m steps away from the corner. Do I hear a crowd still gathered? Is that a siren? There’s only one way to find out.
But my feet have other ideas.
I stop shy of the corner, fighting the undertow and giving in to my fear. I’m afraid to look.
Don’t be such a wimp!
That’s not exactly one of Dr. Corey’s mantras, but it does the trick just the same. Taking a deep breath and balling my fists, I push around the corner and stare.
At absolutely nothing.
What I see is a typical New York street scene outside the Fálcon – people coming and going, cars and cabs sputtering along in front of the hotel’s bright red awning. It’s as if nothing happened.
Duh.