In Plain Sight

“It seems you have gotten Daniel into quite a bit of trouble, Mr. Lockerby,” he said once Alex finished. His voice was soft and calm and far more intimidating than if he had shouted. “It took Daniel a long time to convince his fellow officers to take him seriously. Prejudice against Japanese is still strong here.” He looked around at the luxurious room. “It took me a long time to carve out a place for myself,” he said. “Daniel did it at a much younger age. I’m very proud of him.”

“I understand,” Alex said.

“Then you will understand that I will take it personally if you cost my son his job.”

It was said without anger or malice and Shiro’s tone was mild, congenial even, but the threat there sent chills down Alex’s back.

“I take it,” Shiro went on after a brief pause, “that your presence here means you believe I can help you with your investigation. Unfortunately, I’ve never heard of Jerry Pemberton.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me find someone else,” Alex said. He explained about the stones not being fenced and his theory that someone had commissioned the theft. “There can’t be that many people who can provide this kind of service,” Alex finished. “I just need to know who does. If I can find the man who arranged the theft, I can find his client, and that will be the person who murdered Jerry Pemberton.”

Shiro steepled his hands under his chin and sat, unmoving for a long moment.

“There is only one man in New York who handles this sort of work,” he said. “There are many lesser men, for lesser jobs, of course, but anyone making this kind of arrangement would require ten percent of the job up front. You said the insurance check was for one hundred and fifty large, that would be fifteen thousand down. Only high-end clients can pay that kind of fee, and only one man in New York takes that kind of action. His name is Jeremy Brewer, but everyone just calls him the Broker. You’ll find him in a Core nightclub called The Emerald Room. That’s where he conducts business.”

“Thank you, Mr. Takahashi,” Alex said, trying not to stand too quickly, but Shiro waved him back into his seat.

“I’ve enjoyed our talk, Mr. Lockerby,” he said. “You showed both respect and intellect, both in finding me and in knowing what question to ask me.”

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Shiro kept speaking.

“Clearly you are a worthy friend for my son. That said, coming here could expose Daniel, and I won’t have that. If you come here again, for any reason other than to eat dumplings, I will take it as a sign of disrespect.”

Alex tried to control the shiver that ran across his shoulders but couldn’t.

“Furthermore,” Shiro said, “the Broker is a dangerous man. He won’t give up the information you want without…coercion.” Shiro raised his eyes and stared into Alex’s. “Under no circumstances is my name, or Daniel’s, to come to his attention. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Alex said. “And thank you.”

Shiro leaned forward and picked up a tiny silver bell from the coffee table. He rang it once and the young Asian in the silk suit reappeared.

“Please show our guest out,” he said. “And, Mr. Lockerby, good luck.”

15 The Workshop

The crawler flowed over the streets of Manhattan on its energy legs, far faster than any streetcar could move, but it still felt slow to Alex. He had to hurry back to the brownstone and see Iggy. Clubs like The Emerald Room wouldn’t let ordinary working schlubs in; you had to look the part.

He needed a tuxedo.

The only person he knew who might have one he could borrow was Iggy. The old man was a little shorter and heavier than Alex, but it was his only option.

When he reached the brownstone, Iggy laughed in his face.

“What would I need a tuxedo for?” he said. “What do you need it for?”

Alex explained about the Broker and where he could be found.

“So you want a tuxedo so you can what? Kidnap this guy, drag him out the back of a Core nightclub, and then beat the truth out of him somewhere quiet?”

Alex had been so focused on finding a tux that he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Shiro Takahashi had been right; the Broker wouldn’t give up client names without a fight.

“And what are you going to do when you’re done?” Iggy went on. “He’ll have seen your face. He won’t rest until he’s found you and put a bullet in you, so you’re going to have to kill him. Is that your plan?”

“What do you want me to do?” Alex yelled, whirling on him. He regretted it instantly, but the stress of the day was getting to him. “I’m sorry—” he began but Iggy put a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to think,” he said. “And I want you to listen.”

Alex sighed, his temper back under control, and he nodded.

“All right,” Iggy said. “You need to get into that club and find this Broker all without anyone knowing who you are or questioning your right to be there.”