Wrong Man by Jason Dean

Author:Jason Dean [DEAN, JASON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780755382682
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTY-FOUR

Jenna gave a huge sigh as she switched off the engine, unconsciously matching her breathing to the ticking of the muffler as it cooled down. She knew how it felt. As usual, the Holland Tunnel had been the worst. Rush hour, too. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d had the radio to listen to, but that annoying high-pitched tone in the background merely stressed her out even more.

At least Mandrake’s address had been easy to find. Metroblade was a two-storey building with a small car park out front at the end of a gently curving cul-de-sac off Newark Avenue, near the turnpike bridge. The left-hand side of the road was taken up with a vast auto salvage business. The other side was taken up by a noisy recycling site.

Jenna got out, locked the vehicle, and walked over to the portico entrance. Inside, the reception area was filled with comfortable chairs arranged in circles of four. Framed enlargements of aerial views of the city covered the walls. The place felt subdued and relaxed. Two couples sat in one of the circles, deep in conversation with each other. They looked like tourists waiting for their ride. None looked up at her entrance. Directly ahead, a bespectacled woman with dyed-blond hair sat behind a large desk working on her computer. There was no name plaque, but Jenna guessed this was Alex.

The woman saw her approach and said, ‘Help you?’

‘Hi, we spoke on the phone. Jenna Falstaff. Here to see Art.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Alex said, looking her over. She rose from her chair, leaned over the desk and pointed a finger towards the wide hallway to Jenna’s right. ‘Down there, honey, and up the stairs. First right at the top is Art’s office, okay?’

Jenna thanked her and walked down the hallway, then up the stairs. At the top, she rapped her knuckles against the door with Arthur Mandrake’s name on it, and a voice said, ‘Come in.’

The room she entered was longer than it was wide, with a row of shuttered windows along one side that overlooked the car park. A long, rectangular conference table took up much of the central floor space. At the far end, a smiling Art Mandrake rose from behind his computer and came around his kidney-shaped desk with hand outstretched. ‘Jenna,’ he said.

She walked over and took his hand. ‘Hello, Mr Ma— Sorry. Art.’

Art stood at around five-nine and wore a well-tailored black suit. He looked about seventy and his face contained deep lines and creases that Jenna figured resulted from a life spent closer to the sun than most. The skull was almost entirely free of hair, apart from a few white wisps above the ears but the clear, brown eyes held a sparkle that was ageless. Jenna couldn’t help smiling back.

‘Anything you’d like, Jenna?’ He went over to a small refrigerator next to his desk and said, ‘I’ve got water and soft drinks, or I can get Alex to bring you up a coffee if you’d prefer.

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