JULY 13, 1977
SOUTH BRONX, NEW YORK
Okay, fine. This was a mistake.
Lisa was big enough to admit that. And, if she was honest with herself, she’d gotten doubts almost as soon as she’d left the apartment. But she’d been angry, and frustrated, and if nothing else she needed time to think. Traveling up to the address on the back of the torn matchbook was a welcome distraction.
And now, walking down a potholed road of an industrial estate, looking around the mix of vast, weed-choked lots surrounded by tall wire fencing and huge, anonymous warehouses the size of aircraft hangars, she knew this wasn’t a place to linger. The day was hot, the sky clear and blue, but this wasn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood a civilian wanted to be walking around. Even the cab she had taken the last part of the journey had refused to drop her at the exact address, instead dumping her a couple of blocks away, the driver only offering the most halfhearted concern for her safety when she questioned his decision.
Lisa reached the end of the street, the road narrowing until it was almost an alleyway squeezed between two tall warehouses. Ahead was a third; perhaps they were all part of the same connected complex. There was a set of double doors in front of her large enough to drive a big rig through, but no other way forward.
Lisa turned around, getting her bearings. This was stupid. This probably wasn’t even the right address, the industrial estate nearly impossible to navigate if you didn’t already know where you were and where you were going. She’d walked maybe a mile since the cab had dropped her off, but, if she was right, the main street was actually running parallel to the road on which she stood. If she could cut across one of the empty lots, she’d reach civilization—and another cab—much quicker.
She wrung her hands, then held up her left hand, fingers straight. Her mood ring had turned black, indicating tension, nervousness, or—
Or that the ring was broken.
“Stupid thing,” she muttered, stopping her train of thought as she dropped her hands. The ring was old and had long lost its ability to change color, but…had it been that dark earlier today?
Telling herself it was her imagination, she set off, her boots knocking loudly on the road, the sound echoing around the tall, flat sides of the warehouses around her. The place was deserted—Lisa had seen not a single person or car or truck or anything—but that didn’t make her feel any better. It was…well, “eerie” was probably the word for it. It was a mistake coming here, a rash decision born out of anger and frustration, and that was fine, just fine, no problem, she could just go back and go home and drown her sorrows in that little Italian bar just down the street from her apartment.
Maybe she should have gone straight there after her call with Jerry.
As she hit the end of the warehouse block, and went to turn left to cut across the empty lot she had passed walking in, a man stepped out from around the corner of the building.
Lisa gasped in surprise and stopped, then backed away. The man grinned at her, his jaw working on some gum, both thumbs looped through the belt of his greasy jeans. He was wearing a white T-shirt underneath a brown leather vest, and he had a green bandanna coiled into a thick cable and tied around his head.
“You leaving so soon, little lady?” He moved slowly toward her. “Oh, no, no, little lady, we can’t have that, no, no. You can’t come visit and then not say hello. That’s bad manners, that is.”
Lisa continued to back away. She pulled her bag around and unzipped it. As she reached inside, the man stopped chewing his gum and shook his head.
“Oh, what you got in there, little lady? You want to play, huh?”
Lisa pulled the collapsible nightstick from her bag and, with a flick of the wrist, extended it out. The man grinned and clapped his hands, three times.
“Oh, nice, little lady. Very nice. Hey, what do you think, Jookie?”
There was a scuffling sound from behind her. Lisa spun around and saw another man, wearing almost identical clothing, peel out from around the corner of the warehouse behind. He kicked at the gravel again, sending a large stone banging against the metal wall of the warehouse, and put a lit cigarette in his mouth.
“I think we’re going to have some fun with this one,” said the newcomer—Jookie—before tossing the cigarette onto the ground, a gob of spit following the still-glowing butt.
Lisa continued to back away, willing herself to be calm. If she was going to get out of this, she had to control her feelings, focus her mind. Two of them. Okay. Outnumbered, but not outgunned. She was armed, and they weren’t as far as she could see, and the nightstick was a formidable weapon in the right hands.
Hands like hers.
She backed away again. The two men approached each other in the alleyway, and slapped each other’s hands in apparent greeting, before returning their attention to her. They moved forward and she moved back, keeping the same space between them.
Then she looked up, seeing the warehouses rise on either side of her. She’d gone back too far, and was entering the dead end.
That’s when the others appeared, up on the warehouse rooftops. Four on one side, five on the other. Too high to be any danger, but confirming to Lisa how wrong she had been. She wasn’t alone—she never had been. She’d walked right into it.
Jookie and his pal laughed, and from up top some of the others clapped and yelled out.
Lisa adjusted her grip on the nightstick. The others didn’t matter. If she could get past these two, she could get away.
There was a metallic bang, following by a harsh scraping sound. The men up on the rooftops vanished again, and in front of her Jookie and friend stopped, jumping almost in fright and actually taking a step back.
Lisa risked a look over her shoulder. Behind her a smaller door, one she hadn’t noticed, had opened within the larger hangar doors. A man stepped out, his mirrored sunglasses shining in the bright sunshine.
He walked past Lisa to face the other two.
“This is no way to welcome my guest,” he said, his voice low and full of menace.
The two men glanced at each other, then back at the other man.
“I will deal with you later,” he said, then turned back around. He smiled at Lisa.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, then gestured to her nightstick. “And I’m impressed with your preparation. I’m just glad you didn’t have to use it. My brothers can sometimes forget themselves.”
Lisa shook her head.
“What the hell is this?” she asked. “Why did you ask me to come here? And just who the hell are you, anyway?
“I told you, Dr. Sargeson, I asked you here because I want your help. My name is Saint John, and this is my domain.
“Welcome.”