Page 64 of Always

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “His apartment is on 84th Street. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you!” Anika said.

She flagged down a cab from the queue out front of the hospital. Hannah had sent the address promptly, and Anika showed it to the cabbie. He drove her over to a building on the upper east side, a tall red-brick complex full of converted lofts.

Hannah had said that James’s unit was 505, but upon entering the lobby, Anika saw she would have to get past the concierge.

“Can you ring unit 505 for me please?” she asked the short, slim, elderly gentleman.

“The owner of unit 505 is not at home, Miss,” the concierge informed her politely.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Anika asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t give out that information,” he said.

Anika looked around the lobby in despair. There was no convenient place where she could wait—it was really just a long hallway in front of the concierge desk, leading to the double bank of elevators.

“Thank you,” she said dejectedly, heading back outside the building. There were no benches or convenient planter boxes out front either. She seated herself at the far corner of the steps leading into the building, hopefully far enough out of view that the concierge wouldn’t immediately come out to shoo her away.

She could wait here, but it was only 9:30. It could be hours until James came home, if he came back at all. And in a neighborhood as nice as this, she would be asked to quit loitering before long.

She sat fidgeting for ten or twenty minutes, trying to think what she could do.

The concierge did in fact come outside, but he didn’t chivvy her away. Instead he took out a vape pen and took a few discreet puffs, exhaling away from her.

“I smoked for forty-two years,” he said. “I’m trying to quit, finally.”

“That’s very admirable,” Anika said. “Don’t worry, I won’t stay here too long. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to find my friend.”

“I don’t mind,” the concierge said kindly. “It’s just that I don’t want you to be waiting.”

“What do you mean?” Anika asked.

“I can’t give out any information,” he said, taking another puff and exhaling slowly, “but you know, when you work the front desk you get familiar with the cabbies and the Uber drivers that mostly make airport runs. And of course, a suitcase is a clue, too.”

“Oh,” Anika said. “Oh! Thank you!”

She hopped up again.

“Good luck finding your friend,” the concierge said, tucking his vape pen back into his pocket.

“Yes! Thank you!” Anika said again.

Of course this information didn’t tell her where James had gone, but it did indicate who would be likely to know. James and Liam were embroiled in preparations for their hedge fund—it was likely that James’s trip was in service to that cause. If so, Liam would know the details.

Anika was already pulling out her phone. It was ten p.m. now. Late to call Liam, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Liam!” she said when he answered. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

“Oh please,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m old, but I’m not that old. I was just reading. What can I do for you, Anika?”

“Do you know where James went? He flew somewhere today, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Liam said, “he went to Hong Kong.”

“Hong Kong?”

“Yes.”

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