CHAPTER 15
‘So what do you think about the new you?’ Pickford asked Daniel as they waited for Luca to fetch Daniel’s new documents.
‘I think I’m getting used to looking at someone new in the mirror every five minutes,’ Daniel replied.
‘You see, when you say stuff like that it just sets off my natural inquisitiveness.’
‘I don’t see why, I mean –’
‘Hey, kid, just ‘cos I’m nosey it don’t mean that I have to know. To be honest I’ve often found that the less I do know, the better.’
‘That’s good, because there’s nothing to tell.’
‘Then we’re all happy.’
Daniel glanced at his watch. ‘Is this going to take long?’
Pickford gave a crooked smile. ‘I pay him for muscle not speed,’ he said. ‘He’ll be back in a minute. You got somewhere you need to be?’
‘Not really,’ Daniel replied trying to sound nonchalant. ‘I’d just like to make a call, that’s all.’ His fingers brushed against the piece of paper with Eleanor’s number on it in his pocket.
Luca entered the room, carrying a small cardboard box. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his breath came in deep, drawn-out lungful’s.
‘Speak of the devil,’ Pickford muttered, patting the table between Daniel and himself. ‘Put it down here.’
Luca put the box on the table and moved back around his employer’s side.
‘Did you try running again?’ Pickford asked him.
Luca nodded. ‘You said I should hurry.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t want you to kill yourself, you big lug.’ Pickford shook his head, disapprovingly. ‘Go get some water or something.’
Luca nodded once more and ambled off.
Pickford watched him go then took the top of the box off and Daniel saw what had his money had bought.
‘New passport in the name of Robert Swain with matching DNA card, lens case and laminator,’ Pickford said, smiling. ‘And a handy little bag to keep them in.’
Daniel reached inside the box and took them out. ‘Thank you.’
‘Hey, like I said before, kid; you’ve paid good money for this. I’m just a shop-keeper. Would you thank a grocer just ‘cos he sold you a tomato?’
‘I suppose not.’ Daniel slipped the documents and equipment in the bag into his jacket. ‘Seriously, though,’ he said holding out a hand, ‘thank you.’
The small man shook the hand. ‘Any time, kid. Any time.’
Daniel smiled and turned to go.
‘Hey, kid,’ Pickford called as Daniel reached the doorway. ‘You know where I am if you need anything else, right?’
He took another glance around the walls of the Aladdin’s cave. ‘Yeah,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ll know who to call.’
The ringing cell phone caused Eleanor’s mother to frown. ‘What have I told you about no cells at the table?’
She was serving soup from a porcelain tureen to Eleanor’s younger brother and aunt.
‘I know,’ Eleanor said, ‘I’m sorry, I forgot to switch it off.’ She took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID screen. She smiled. ‘I’m really sorry, mom, but can I take this? It’s important.’
‘Sure, why not? I mean we’re only just about to have lunch; it’s nothing important.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll be real quick.’
Her mother pursed her lips. ‘Alright, but I want you sitting back down before I finish serving. D’accord?’
As Eleanor pushed her chair back from the table her aunt muttered something in French. It didn’t sound complimentary.
‘I can understand what you’re saying, you know?’ Eleanor told her.
Her aunt tutted. The hair on her upper lip made it look like a puckered peach.
Eleanor moved into the next room. ‘Hey, Daniel.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘No one else calls me from a withheld number.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, sorry about that. Is this a good time to call? I could always call back if it’s not.’
‘It’s maybe not the best time,’ Eleanor said glancing back towards the dining room. ‘We’re just sitting down to lunch and mom gets real funny about family meals, but it’s okay I’ve got a minute.’
‘That’s great. Look, I was wondering if you’d like to meet up tomorrow for a coffee or something.’
Eleanor smiled. ‘Are you asking me out on a date?’
‘Well … If …you see … I –’
‘It doesn’t take much to turn you into a Stuttering Stanley, does it?’ she laughed and absent-mindedly pulled the net curtain aside from the window overlooking the road. She paid no attention to the couple walking past the front yard, or the grey saloon parked two houses down with the non-descript man in the driver’s seat. ‘I’d love to meet you for a coffee,’ Eleanor continued. ‘Where do you have in mind?’
In the saloon William Cross held a thin device to his ear while he tapped away on a small keypad.
‘I’m not sure,’ Daniel’s voice came to him from the earpiece. ‘Somewhere in the city? Could I call you in the morning and let you know?’
‘Okay mystery man,’ Eleanor laughed. ‘I’ll be at the library early – I’ve got a ton of work to do – but I should be free any time after two.’
‘Great. I’ll call you in the morning then?’
‘Okay. Look forward to it.’
Eleanor cancelled the call and returned to the dining room with a smile.
‘Who was that?’ her mother asked as she sat back down.
‘No one,’ she said. ‘Just a friend.’
‘Ellie’s got a boyfriend, Ellie’s got a boyfriend,’ her younger brother sang.
‘Be quiet, you little squirt,’ she replied, a fake stern look on her face.
‘Boyfriend or not,’ her mother said with a hard edge to her voice and pointing her finger, ‘no more calls at the table, okay?’
‘Okay, mama.’
William Cross removed his earpiece, took out his phone and tapped the screen twice. ‘Tiberius has made contact with the Turner girl. He’s meeting her in the city tomorrow,’ he said, and paused as he listened to the reply.
‘Couldn’t track him,’ Cross said. ‘Maybe the same thing that’s blocking my tags is keeping him hidden.’
Cross listened to the response. ‘I’ve said I don’t know. Do you want me to pick him up when he meets the girl and ask him how he did it?’ He paused again. ‘I’m not getting angry, but there’s no point asking me the same question all the time, is there? You of all people should know what he’s capable of.’
The reply was brief.
‘I don’t care what you think. You do your job and I’ll do mine. What’s the professor had to say for himself?’
Another pause.
‘Then maybe it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him in?’
Cross smirked, knowing that the comment would provoke an angry response.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘Call me if the old man says anything I should know. I’ll contact you tomorrow with an update.’
A pang of nerves shot through Daniel as he opened the gym door to The Jade Tiger Dojo on Brooklyn’s 61st Street. The place smelled of old wood and leather. In the room a class of thirty-eight students, all in ordered lines, were going through their warm-up exercises and only a few of the newer members looked up as the door creaked open. Daniel wore one of the Dojo’s standard white uniforms and unconsciously tugged at his belt. The senior instructor, a slight man in his fifties, turned to see who’d opened the door.
‘Can I help you?’ the man asked.
Daniel stepped inside and let the door creak closed behind him. ‘The lady on the desk said it’d be alright if I joined the class.’
The instructor beckoned one of the older students in the front row to take his place. ‘Continue the warm-up will you,’ he said before moving over to Daniel. ‘You done much of this before?’
‘Not really.’ Daniel smiled.
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‘Not really, huh?’
‘I … I’ve read a book.’
The instructor nodded. ‘Okay, you see this is a mid- to high-level class.’ He pushed open the door. ‘We do beginner’s classes on a Tuesday night. You can come back then.’
‘No, sorry, what I meant was that I read a book … about your classes here. More of a pamphlet really, I suppose,’ Daniel quickly covered. ‘I’ve been taking lessons for a few years now.’
The instructor let the door swing closed. ‘You on vacation?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What grade are you?’ He looked Daniel up and down.
‘Grade?’ Daniel glanced at the lines of students; most of them were wearing neatly tied black belts. ‘Black.’
‘Black?’ The instructor folded his arms. ‘You sure?’
Daniel nodded and tried to look as honest as possible. ‘I didn’t bring my kit because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get any classes in. The lady at the front said it’d be okay for me to borrow this suit.’
‘Okay then,’ the instructor said narrowing his eyes, ‘if you think you’re up to it. We’re a full-contact Dojo here, you know?’
‘Excellent.’
‘What’s your name, son?’
‘Daniel.’
‘Okay, Daniel, glad to have you. Take a space.’
Daniel moved around the side and joined the end of the line furthest away from the instructor and for the next half-an-hour he mimicked the warm-up routines. The actions weren’t too different to those in the Bruce Lee book, and he soon found himself copying the katas with ease and precision.
When the instruction came to pair-off Daniel found himself with a man a few years older than him, but about twice as wide. Suddenly the image of Terry Llewellyn came to his mind. He smiled at his new partner, but only got a grunt in return.
Yep, he thought, Terry Llewellyn alright.
The order was for light sparring, but after Daniel’s opponent kicked his legs from under him and delivered a thumping hand-chop to the stomach, he had his first taste of what full-contact actually meant.
As he paused to recover his breath Daniel closed his eyes and remembered what he’d read in Bruce Lee’s book – a style without style, be like water. He got to his feet and took a guard stance. When his opponent’s next attack came he deflected it with ease. His partner frowned and pressed forward once more but Daniel managed to block the man’s kicks and punches. It was almost as if he knew where each intended attack was heading. The frustration on his opponent’s face became clear to see.
Daniel lured him forward; twisting away only to kick the man behind his knee and scoring a hit between the man’s shoulder blades. The Terry Llewellyn look-a-like’s face hit the mat hard but Daniel was convinced that the redness of it, when the man stood back up, was down to embarrassment. Embarrassment and anger.
In the next attack the man lunged at him, almost yelling, in a flurry of kicks and punches. The sudden ferocity of the attack surprised him but none of his opponent’s blows landed. The movements and techniques from the Bruce Lee book seemed to flow from Daniel’s hands and feet, without him having to even think about them. His body twisted and spun but his balance remained perfect, which only served to infuriate his opponent even further.
The instructor watched him with interest.
After thirty seconds Daniel knew everything he needed to about his opponent: it was clear that he was fond of a triple punch/side kick combination, but which left him vulnerable each time. All Daniel had to do was wait for the next time he tried the move. When it came it was as if someone had slowed down time: Daniel countered the three punches and deflected the side kick with his left forearm then lunged forward with his right fist, snapping his arm at the last moment, and hitting the man mid-chest.
The Terry Llewellyn-clone flew back so hard he landed on the adjacent pair’s mat. He curled up into a ball and clutched his chest with both hands, gasping for air. The entire Dojo stopped and turned.
Daniel gave an awkward smile to the instructor. ‘Like I said; I’ve had lessons.’
After he’d showered and changed back into his proper clothes Daniel stood with the instructor by the Dojo’s front desk, holding his folded suit.
‘So how long you got left on your vacation?’ the instructor asked.
‘Not long,’ Daniel replied.
‘We’d love to have you back, anytime you want. What school did you say that went to for lessons?’
Daniel paused. ‘It’s the Llewellyn Dojo.’
‘Well that’s one hell of a school. I gotta say that I’ve rarely seen technique as good as yours.’
Daniel felt a blush creep up his cheeks. ‘Thanks. And thanks for letting me borrow this.’ He held out the suit.
‘Hell no. Keep it. Maybe it’ll persuade you to come back. A guy with your ability could go a long way.’