Page 23 of A Friend in the Glass

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Del said with a boardroom laugh, and he gestured for the colonel to lead the way.

The elevator dinged, and the doors rattled open as the two men passed through the opening into the bar.

Sam shot a look at the elevator. Then at the bar.

Rufus held the elevator door when it began to shut. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Did you want to go up or listen to Frick and Frack over there?”

“The bar is pretty much empty; they’ll spot us as soon as we walk in.”

Rufus slapped the door a second time and the elevator let out an obnoxious beep. He peered around Sam’s shoulder and then with a nod of his chin in the direction of the bar, said, “Look at that stand by the entrance—all those tourism pamphlets. We might be able to hear them from there.”

The elevator doors began to rattle shut. Sam caught them. They rattled open. Then, with a frustrated, grunt, he nodded.

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Ok, Sam added that last part in his head.

There were pamphlets on the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, the MOMA, the Met, even on visiting the Macy’s flagship store. Sam scanned them all, occasionally plucking one from the rack and opening it, folding it backward along the crease like he was really invested in learning about the Alice statue. But his attention was focused on the bar.

Rufus had been right; he could hear what was happening. Some of it, anyway. The clink of glass. Movement. Low voices. But not enough to make out—

“And I’ve done everything you’ve asked!”

That part came through clearly enough, Del’s words delivered in a low, angry voice that carried to the lobby.

The colonel’s response was muffled, but it sounded calm and self-assured.

“You can’t,” Del whisper-shouted. “We had a deal.”

This time, the colonel’s response was audible: “And we both got what we wanted.”

“No, I—”

“Don’t press me on this, Del. I don’t like problems. I don’t like loose threads. Do you know what I do to loose threads?” The colonel’s voice was moving toward them now. Rufus yanked on Sam’s sleeve, and Sam let himself be led away, but he could still make out the colonel’s final words. “I tie them off. We aren’t going to talk again.”

Rufus was pressing the Up button as the colonel emerged from the bar. The bell dinged. The doors rattled open. Because, of course, the damn thing was still on this floor. The colonel glanced over, and his gaze settled on Sam and Rufus.

Rufus yanked on Sam’s arm again, and Sam stumbled onto the elevator after him.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered as the doors clattered shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rufus jabbed the 6 button with his thumb before looking at Sam. “I grew up on the street—I know what the fuck a loose thread implies—but should a military guy be talking like that?”

“Of course not. That’s some shady shit. That guy, Del, he was running the Conasauga presentation with Evangeline. Lew was there. So was the colonel. Shareed and Lew. Shareed and Evangeline. This is a fucking rat’s nest.”

“Vipers,” Rufus corrected. “They all sound like a bunch of snakes.” The doors opened on the sixth floor and Rufus checked the keycard envelope. “612.”

The hallway was pleasantly neutral, well lit, and empty. It felt surreal. When Rufus tried the card, the lock on 612 flashed green, and a motor whirred. Rufus leaned into the door, and it opened.

It had the faintly dry smell of forced-air heating as well as something lighter and floral—the perfume Evangeline wore, which was doubtless expensive. The room was dark, with the blackout curtains drawn so that only a sliver of light passed through a gap where they met. Sam caught the light switch, and a few dim yellow overheads came to life, revealing the king bed, the dresser, the television, the armchair, the desk with mid-executive-level accessories, like a vinyl blotter and a lamp. A leather portfolio case was closed on the desk. Her suitcase, zippered shut, occupied a stand near the bed. The closet door stood ajar, revealing two dresses—both black—hanging from the rod.

“Split up?” Sam asked.

Rufus said, “I’m not looking through a lady’s unmentionables.” And he moved toward the window, desk, and armchair corner.

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