Page 57 of The Cinderella Secret
Jackson dug into his own pie and made eye contact with Priscilla, who smiled at him. He liked waitresses. The problem was that, with his bank account currently at maximum green, waitresses tended to want to move straight to the end of the fairy tale. But Jackson was not Aiden. He was not going to be sweeping anyone off their feet. He liked girls with their feet firmly on the ground, who didn’t need him for anything, and only occasionally wanted him to show up with wine, condoms and three hours to spare. He had a few friends like that, but one more couldn’t hurt.
“Uh-huh,” said Nowitsky, putting down his fork without taking the bite. “Yeah. What did you—”
There was a tenseness to his voice that pulled Jackson’s attention away from Priscilla.
“OK, so you shut down the building? Good. How long until they can get the damn thing out?” There was a response to Nowitsky’s question that Jackson couldn’t quite hear. “Well, good thing it’s the weekend, I guess.” Nowitsky nodded as the caller on the other end spoke again. “OK, well, keep me updated. I’ll circle back to the scene in a few hours.”
Nowitsky hung up and looked at Jackson. “I think we found our Plan B.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Beatles left the vault a mess. CSI was finishing up, moved some papers and found, guess what?”
Jackson shook his head. He really had no idea.
“A bomb. It’s wired into the electrical system. If they had blown it, it would have fried most of the building’s systems and of course put a big fucking hole in the floor. CSI is shutting down the building and calling in the bomb squad, but due to the way it’s wired, they might not be able to get it out until at least tomorrow.”
“It’sDie Hard,” said Jackson. “The bearer bonds. The bomb that covers the escape of the thieves. It’s fuckingDie Hard.”
Nowitsky gave a dry snort of laughter. “Not a genius mastermind at work, I guess.”
“So if the cops had shown up, they would have said they had a bomb, and then what?”
“We would have cleared the building and negotiated.”
“Then they blow the bomb and either get killed or escape in the confusion?”
“I don’t really think they would have escaped,” said Nowitsky.
“But they probably would have been convinced that they would.” Jackson tapped his fork on his plate in a shave and a haircut rhythm, thinking. “You need to find out what would have happened if the bomb went off.”
“I told you—fried systems, hole in floor.”
“That’s generally. What specifically would have happened? If we’re right, then whoever put this plan in motion really wanted the bomb to go off. That was the real target.”
Nowitsky grunted and reached for his phone, then stopped. “Jackson, this isn’t good. The Beatles were also told to target the Chinese. If that’s the case…”
“Yeah,” said Jackson standing up and tossing down some cash on the bar. “I know. The Zhao are in danger. You need to warn them.”
“Not just the Zhao,” said Nowitsky. “Aiden…”
“Aiden is my problem,” said Jackson. “Call me if you get anything else.”
21
Ella – DevEntier, Brooklyn Office
Ella sat on the sanitary napkin garbage and braced her feet against the opposite wall of the bathroom stall. She was waiting for the security guard to finish his rounds. The guard was late. She supposed, since it was Saturday, he was being lazy, but she was annoyed by his lax behavior. And also, she was bored and not sure how much longer the tampon disposal unit could carry her weight.
She stared up at the fluorescent light and sighed.
She had hoped, just for a few seconds, last night that Aiden had come to see her because her moment with him in the bank had beentheirmoment. That he had realized she was Cinderella, and he’d come immediately to sweep her off her feet. And then he’d told her that he thought she’d faked evidence and she’d come crashing down to earth.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She was obviously not the only girl he’d ever kissed. And it really had just been one kiss. She might have spent the last six years wistfully fantasizing about meeting him again, but he had been dating the Channel Four weather girl.
Her own thoughts checked her at that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dated anyone in the last six years. There had been several someones. It was just that she’d always wanted Number Nine. And now, here he was, and not only did he have no clue who she was, he thought that she was the kind of person who would forge evidence. And do it badly, at that.
She sighed again and shifted on her metal perch. That wasn’t fair either. He’d point blank stated that he didn’t think she’d done it. Just that someone on her team had.
