“Clock’s running, Windsor. You want to talk deal, you’d better give up
something you learned about this terror plot.”
He thought a short while, then calmly beckoned her over. When she stood beside him,
he smiled and said, “When I’m ready. Come back tomorrow, I’ve had a hard day.”
Then he closed his eyes and rolled his face away as if going to sleep.
On the way downstairs, Heat turned to Rook. “Don’t say it.”
“You mean, ‘Game not over’? ‘Do not proceed to the exit’?”
“I hate you.”
When Rook postponed their meeting with Puzzle Man, he had instructed him to hang
loose. Now, as he and Nikki crossed the Bellevue lobby, he got out his cell to call
him. Heat looked at her watch and said, “Now? These are drug dealer hours, he’s
not going to—”
Rook held up a palm to her. “Keith. Rook. Hey, puzzle me this. You still good to
go?” He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Heat’s eyes burned from fatigue, and she felt so hungry that she was no longer
hungry. But sleep would have to wait. “Can he meet us someplace they serve food?”
she asked.
Tavern 29, walking distance for them, served all night, and Nikki craved one of
their bacon burgers, which she ordered before she even sat down. A beer would have
been perfect to go with it, but she didn’t want to lose her edge, and so went for a
seltzer. They were both finishing their meals by the time Keith Tahoma strolled in,
gray ponytail swaying, yakking from the door to their table about the awesome energy
of New York freakin’ City at night. Heat was more interested in what he held in his
hands than his speed-talk. He carried a tan cardboard tube from an empty roll of
paper towels.
He ordered a coffee, and when it came, he repeated his ritual of six sugars and an
OCD paddle stir. Heat asked him if that was going to keep him awake, and he laughed,
saying, “So far, so good.”
Rook said, “Keith, I hate to put the squeeze on, but it’s been a long one, and we
’re kind of eager to hear whatcha got.”
“Oh, yeah. For sure.” Nikki’s energy level perked up as Puzzle Man brought the
cardboard tube up from his lap and set it on the table. “Apologies for the delay,
this was one tough nut.”
“But you cracked it,” said Heat, not really asking so much as hoping. Or willing.
His answer was to pat the tube gently and wink. “Now, just so you don’t feel bad
about not solving it yourselves, those little lines and squiggles were totally
meaningless. I ran every cipher I could without success. And I know ’em all. Even
invented a couple over the years. Then this morning, I’m sitting in the park,
working my chess games, waiting for the other dopes to realize they’re six moves
from losing. I look up and see this bird flapping along. And I saw a jet, probably
coming around to land at JFK, five thousand feet higher than the bird. But to me, it
looked just like the two were going to collide. You see?”
They both shook their heads.
“You will. It was a visual trick. The optical overlay created a message in my
brain.” He stacked his hands flat before his eyes like pancakes.
Heat started to get there. “So you thought maybe all the pages could be overlaid,
and this would be revealed.”
“No,” he said, then slapped the table and smiled. “Not all, but a few of the
pages could be. After a fair amount of trial and error, I managed to find four pages
of your mother’s sheet music that, if I stacked them and held them up to a
lightbulb like a shadow box, I got a message. It wasn’t even in a cipher, it was
right there in front of my eyes in the King’s English. Hot damn, I felt smart.”
“Do you, um…” Nikki gestured to the cardboard tube.
“ ’Deed I do.” He presented it to her with a flourish.