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As he approached the building he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a woman in the lobby, talking to the doorman and the super. He turned and walked back toward Lexington. The woman was the one with the baby carriage outside Saks earlier in the day. Had they traced him to the building, or were they just canvassing?
He went back to his workshop, donned his latex gloves, looked up the number for the doorman and dialed it. “Hello, William? It’s Mr. Foreman.”
“Good evening, Mr. Foreman.”
“Have I had a package delivered in the last hour or so, or anybody looking for me
?”
“No, sir, but we had a lady from some government agency in here looking for somebody, she wasn’t sure who.”
“What was it about?”
“She wouldn’t say. She showed me a sketch of some guy that didn’t look like anybody I know. The super, neither. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Teddy thought quickly. Was there anything in the apartment he needed? Fingerprints-he needed to wipe the place down. “No, William. See you later.” He hung up and walked back to the building, holding his breath as he walked in, waiting for somebody to shout “That’s him!” He made it to the elevator and went upstairs.
He ordered dinner from downstairs, then put on his gloves and began wiping down the suite. He stopped for dinner, then went back to work. When he was satisfied, he began packing his clothes; he certainly wasn’t going to give them DNA from the sweat on a hatband or from his dirty underwear.
When he was nearly done, he called the doorman. “William, the building has a car service, doesn’t it?”
“Yessir. Can I get you a car?”
“Yes, going to Kennedy Airport.” He looked at his watch. “I have a flight for London at ten o’clock.”
“I’ll have a car for you in twenty minutes, sir,” William said. “I’ll buzz you when it’s here.”
Teddy changed into a business suit and packed the remainder of his clothes. He set his two suitcases and briefcase by the front door and sat down to wait for the car to arrive, increasingly nervous.
They must be canvassing every building in the neighborhood, he thought. It’s what he would have done, if he were Lance Cabot. From what the doorman had said, though, he and the super had given the agent nothing. The phone buzzed.
“Yes?”
“Your car is here, Mr. Foreman. Do you need any help with your luggage?”
“No, just meet me at the elevator.” Teddy collected his two bags and briefcase and went down in the elevator, where William met him. A black Lincoln was idling at the curb.
“How long will you be away, sir?” William asked as he put Teddy’s bags into the trunk.
“A week or so. Please hold my mail.”
“You never get any mail, Mr. Foreman. You’re the only one in the building that doesn’t.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Teddy said, chuckling. “It goes to my office. Would you let the people at Daniel know that they can pick up my room service dishes?”
The doorman held the car door open, and Teddy got in. “Have a good trip, Mr. Foreman.”
“Thank you, William,” Teddy said, slipping him a fifty.
“Thank you, sir!”
The car drove away. “Which airline?” the driver asked.
“British Airways,” Teddy replied and settled in for the ride.
AS THE DOORMAN WALKED back into the building, the super emerged from his ground-floor apartment. “Willie,” he said, “I just thought of something.”
“What’s that, Rich?”
