Adam lay on the bench in the musty jail cell for another hour or so. The old drag queen was gone. A Haitian man was brought in for a short time and then taken away, and he was by himself once again, alone with no idea what had happened. No real sense if he really had beaten the little blond call girl, as the man in the dress had said he did. He had never hit a woman in his life, had never even been accused of anything like that, yet he honestly didn’t know what he had done or not done. The soreness in his battered hands wouldn’t go away. He was sure someone must have put something in his drink. He was also reasonably certain that Heaton was to blame, or at least one of Heaton’s bodyguards.
Still, he wasn’t sure. That was the problem. His knuckles did feel like he had been beating something. He was scared—incredibly frightened. He had been terrorized a lot these last couple of years; he was actually getting used to it. Even after his criminal charges in Michigan were finally dropped, even when they moved on, when they lived in Illinois, he often had times when he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. He had heard people in their house in Wilmette twice, late at night, once someone rustling in their garage, another time in the den. He was convinced that someone was going through his computer files. Both times he called the police and grabbed a baseball bat, ready to use it. Each time he was told he had been dead wrong, that no one had been in the house. The alarm was still on. It was just another in a long series of incidents that left Kate unsure of what to believe in as far as her husband’s state of mind.
This was different. Some version of this had actually happened. He needed to stop his head from spinning and find out what and why.
* * *
NOT LONG AFTER he was finally awake, when it all truly started to sink in as to how much trouble he could conceivably be in, for some reason it was all suddenly over. Out of nowhere, a door opened. A uniformed police officer came down the hall, opened the cell, and motioned for Adam to follow him out. He walked him through the processing area, past the receiving desk, through the main lobby, down a stairwell, along a back hallway, and out to the street through a rear door. The officer then handed Adam his possessions in a plain envelope, minus his passport, turned, and went back inside, closing the door behind him.
Exactly like that, the officer left Adam alone, confused, and uncertain as to what to do next. The policeman hadn’t said as much as one word to him. Now he just stood there on the corner of New Burlington Street and Savile Row, under a bright morning sun, once again not sure what the hell had hit him.
He walked a block or so and tried to start breathing again, wondering if it was a trap of some kind, if they were going to arrest him for trying to run. He decided it was best to move, that he should get the hell out of there. He hit Regent Street and sprinted for four or so blocks, until he couldn’t move his legs any longer. He headed west and found a bench in the middle of Hanover Square behind a clump of trees and collapsed into it, struggling to regain wind, still having no sense of how he had gotten into or out of jail.
A minute or so later, Harris and Peet, Heaton’s men, drove up in one of the company Mercedes. Harris, the stocky, muscular redhead, got out, opened the back door, and motioned from across the square for Adam to get in. Once again, there was a lot of summoning but no talking. Adam wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but seeing as how he didn’t have a better one, or any real idea where he was, he did as he was told, went over and got into the backseat.
They drove him through the Mayfair shopping district for a short hop over to Grosvenor Square. Still, not a word. As they pulled up at the hotel, Gordon was standing out front, waiting. Adam stepped out and on cue the bodyguards pulled away: once again, not a single syllable had been traded.
Bathed in remorse and confusion, Adam walked over and approached his father-in-law.
“Gordon, I don’t know what you think happened, but I swear to you I did not do anything like what I’m being accused of doing. Also, I was not with any girl in any way that would make Kate—”
Gordon cut him off. He was good and upset, the old guy. He wasn’t any more in the mood for small talk than the cop or the bodyguards were.
“Close it, boy. Close it now! I mean it. Stop talking. I know damn well what you did and didn’t do. Anyone says you did anything close to what’s been intimated answers to me. Understand?” Adam was surprised. He didn’t expect Gordon to come on this strong, especially in his defense.
“The girl never existed, Adam. That’s the way it is. She never existed, this bird, you got it? The charges are all dropped. Sir David’s taken care of it. The police’ve asked that he keeps care of your passport until you’re ready to leave the country, so he will, and that’s that.”
“I didn’t do anything, Gordon. I wasn’t with her, I know…” Once again Gordon shut him down.
“It’s taken care of. Sir David’s taken care of it. He’s handled everything.”
“I know, you said that, but what does it mean? What the hell does it mean?” He was on the verge of tears now, this big sturdy guy, the former football star and cop, the bottom about to drop out, seconds away from breaking down right here on the street.
“You know damn well what it means, Adam. Means he wanted to show you what kind of strings he has, imprison a man, just like that, get him out of prison once again as quick.”
“But why? Why? I still, I just don’t know why. Why am I here? What the hell is going on?” He looked at Gordon now; a bolt of heat shot through his chest. He made a fist with one of his hands, convinced he might take some teeth out of the gray-haired man’s mouth. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?”
“Don’t even start with me. Take that fist and put it up your bum if you need to put it someplace, but don’t even think about a move like that. You hear me? This isn’t my doing, and making me the problem won’t help you one bit.”
Adam took it all in. Gordon softened. Adam began to see that it might not be he who Gordon was upset with.
“What is going on? Please? Tell me. I’m so confused.”
“I’m not entirely sure, son. He’s brought you here to do a job, I know that.”
“A ‘job’? What the hell does that mean?”
“I truly don’t know yet. I do know maybe it’s not as simple as I was led to believe it was. I’m in the dark from this point on as well.” He looked up at the hotel, toward Kate and the kids, somewhere up there in the fancy brick building.
“Now go on. Go up there and I’ll back your telling Kate we all stayed out and had a late boys’ night that turned into a messy scrap of a morning. Act like you’ve got a hangover.”
“I do have a goddamn hangover!”
“Good for you. Go on. She knows nothing and she won’t ever need to if you play this well.”
“As long as I do whatever it is that you and Sir David have for me to do? Whatever it is I’m here for? I’m not stupid, Gordon. Something’s going on, something not good.”
Gordon stared at him long and hard.
“Yes. You’re right. Maybe you should go to the police then.”
Adam stared back, not liking the sarcasm. Gordon was done with this round. It was too much talk already.
“Go on. Go on up and be with your family. I have your back. I mean it. I’m gonna watch out for you here.”
“I want to believe that. I do.”
“Then go upstairs now.”
The conversation was over: Adam was just as in the dark as when it began. He turned, went into the hotel, walked through the lobby, saw Trudy and the young French boy chatting up a storm on one of the couches, decided it was best to keep moving, and didn’t bother to say hello. He had his wife to face, his thoughts to get straight. He needed to shut his eyes, clear his head. Heaton was up to something. He had been right all along—it was a setup, but nothing like what he thought he was being set up for. It had nothing to do with getting Kate to move home. Whatever “job” Gordon and Heaton had brought him to London to do wasn’t going to be garden variety.
He got to the elevator bank and looked back out to the street, through the front door. Gordon was still there, standing firmly with his chest out. Adam couldn’t help but notice that the old man looked good and worried.