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“I am half your species,” he said.
“Ah, this is the right address.”
Victoria lived steps from Times Square, in a building Mike had to admit was gorgeous, inside and out. They’d called the leasing agent, a round and Rubensesque woman in her late forties who smelled strongly of red wine, and she met them in the lobby.
“I’m Special Agent Mike Caine, and this is Detective Chief Inspector Nicholas Drummond. Thanks for meeting us so late.” She showed the woman her creds.
“I’m Gillian Docherty. What is all this about?”
Nicholas said, “We need access to an apartment, number 2324, and all the files you have attached to it. The occupant is Victoria Browning.”
Docherty narrowed her eyes. “Um, I don’t think I’m allowed to give out that information unless you have a warrant.”
“We’re very concerned about Ms. Browning’s well-being. We wouldn’t ask if it weren’t a matter of life and death.”
“You mean Dr. Browning. She insisted I remember to call her Doctor. I was the one who leased her the apartment. What’s wrong? Is she ill? Is she in trouble?”
Nicholas leaned close to the leasing agent, pitched his voice low. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. This is a very sticky situation. Be a love and let us in her flat, would you?”
Docherty dimpled, and Mike would swear she batted her eyelashes. “Oh, I see, yes, of course,” and Docherty went for the master keys.
Bond strikes again. She whispered, “I may need a tape recording of your voice to use when I run into stubborn witnesses. Well, female witnesses.”
He ignored that.
“You lied to her.”
“Yeah, but don’t worry I’ll run off the rails. I have all sorts of highly ethical boundaries. If she’d said no, I would have clubbed her on the head and stolen the keys.”
Mike said, “Now, that would be a show worth watching.”
“You lied to her, too.”
“It was trained into me.”
“You obviously were at the head of your class.”
Three minutes later they were on the elevator to the twenty-third floor. Browning’s apartment was halfway down the hall.
When they were at the door, Nicholas whispered, “Careful. Like Ben reminded us, she isn’t all that predictable, plus she’s already set one bomb today.”
37
Mike nodded, listened at the door, heard nothing. She drew her Glock, and Docherty gasped.
Nicholas said smoothly, “Perhaps you should wait downstairs, Ms. Docherty, for your safety. We may have some more agents arriving, and we’ll need you to greet them and escort them upstairs. Would you do mind handling it for us?”
“But shouldn’t I, well, my goodness, what has she done? I mean, she’s a doctor, right?”
“It’s very important you bring them to us immediately.” Nicholas took her firmly by the elbow and walked her back to the glass-paneled elevator, and took the leasing file from her as he hit the down button.
Mike had to admire Mr. Aren’t I Great. He was beginning to live up to his reputation.
She inserted the door key to Browning’s apartment and slowly turned the knob. When Nicholas was back by her side, she gave a quiet three count and opened the door.
Empty. Strangely empty. There was furniture, but nothing personal. No books on the bookshelves, no afghans or magazines, nothing homey at all. Nothing of Victoria Browning.
He said, “No bomb, so that’s something.”
