Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) by M. C. Soutter Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M. C. Soutter
paying attention to where they were walking – he had been too busy trying to follow Danny’s lead – but now he had a chance to look around. They hadn’t gone far from the school, barely more than a quarter of a mile. He was standing in front of a large green awning between 66th and 67th street on Park Avenue. The grass and flowers on the avenue’s wide median strip were still green and blooming in early September, and there was a doorman standing silently at the entrance to this building. Just as there was in front of virtually every Park Avenue apartment building.
Nice spot .
He turned and headed for the door, wondering if this part of his day might be about to come to a rather sudden halt. But the doorman, when he saw that Kevin meant to come in, nodded curtly at him and said “Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks,” before backing up quickly to open the door and stand out of the way.
Kevin stopped just inside the entrance and looked around. It was a huge lobby, long and wide, with three banks of elevators spaced along the left side. The walls were papered with a thick, textured matting, and there were framed impressionist prints every few feet on the walls. The floor was inlaid with strips of black and white marble, and there were brass light fixtures spaced along the ceiling.
He turned back to the doorman. “I left my key at the office. Do you have my spare?”
The doorman went into a large wooden drawer located behind the desk. A minute later, he had found it.
“Thank you.”
Kevin glanced down at the key, which had a tag on it reading “PH-C.” Being a born-and-raised Manhattan boy, he knew exactly what this label meant . But he still hesitated. He turned back to the doorman, who was hovering a few feet away in case anything else might be required.
“Are you sure this is – ”
“Sir?”
“Never mind.”
Kevin walked to the third elevator bank, the “C” bank, and pressed the button. The door opened immediately, and he stepped inside. He pressed the button marked “PH,” for “Penthouse.” In Manhattan apartment terms, this meant a residence that was not only on the top floor, but which had also not been divided up into two smaller apartments. In a building that was already very large and already very expensive, the Penthouse would be twice as large. Twice as expensive. For a Park Avenue apartment like this one, a mere $2.5 million in the bank would simply not be enough.
Not nearly enough.
“It might be enough to secure the loan ,” Kevin said to no one, as he was riding up in the empty elevator. “Maybe.”
The elevator reached the top floor, and the door opened to reveal another door immediately before him. He used the key to open it, and then he stepped into his new apartment.
“Jesus,” Kevin said.
A Man Standing Behind Him
The entryway was modest. But it was the modesty of the simple whitewashed gangplank of an ocean liner, of the small American flag painted on the first-stage casing of a Saturn V rocket. Kevin could tell it was going to be a huge apartment. The ceilings, even in this small, immaculate room, were unreasonably high. A huge, full length mirror, framed and reinforced, hung on the near wall, and there was an antique table beside the front door for keys and the day’s mail. A Savonnerie rug lay on the gleaming, dark-stained wooden floors. Everything was spare and perfect. There were two doorways from which to exit this first room, one leading to an immense living room, the other to a long hallway, the kitchen and den, and then presumably to bedrooms.
Kevin went to the living room first. There was a built-in book case, one of the largest he had ever seen in a Manhattan apartment. It took up an entire wall of the room, and Kevin felt a surge of relief as he recognized some of his own things.
My books .
It was strange how deeply this affected him. All day he had been
Nice spot .
He turned and headed for the door, wondering if this part of his day might be about to come to a rather sudden halt. But the doorman, when he saw that Kevin meant to come in, nodded curtly at him and said “Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks,” before backing up quickly to open the door and stand out of the way.
Kevin stopped just inside the entrance and looked around. It was a huge lobby, long and wide, with three banks of elevators spaced along the left side. The walls were papered with a thick, textured matting, and there were framed impressionist prints every few feet on the walls. The floor was inlaid with strips of black and white marble, and there were brass light fixtures spaced along the ceiling.
He turned back to the doorman. “I left my key at the office. Do you have my spare?”
The doorman went into a large wooden drawer located behind the desk. A minute later, he had found it.
“Thank you.”
Kevin glanced down at the key, which had a tag on it reading “PH-C.” Being a born-and-raised Manhattan boy, he knew exactly what this label meant . But he still hesitated. He turned back to the doorman, who was hovering a few feet away in case anything else might be required.
“Are you sure this is – ”
“Sir?”
“Never mind.”
Kevin walked to the third elevator bank, the “C” bank, and pressed the button. The door opened immediately, and he stepped inside. He pressed the button marked “PH,” for “Penthouse.” In Manhattan apartment terms, this meant a residence that was not only on the top floor, but which had also not been divided up into two smaller apartments. In a building that was already very large and already very expensive, the Penthouse would be twice as large. Twice as expensive. For a Park Avenue apartment like this one, a mere $2.5 million in the bank would simply not be enough.
Not nearly enough.
“It might be enough to secure the loan ,” Kevin said to no one, as he was riding up in the empty elevator. “Maybe.”
The elevator reached the top floor, and the door opened to reveal another door immediately before him. He used the key to open it, and then he stepped into his new apartment.
“Jesus,” Kevin said.
A Man Standing Behind Him
The entryway was modest. But it was the modesty of the simple whitewashed gangplank of an ocean liner, of the small American flag painted on the first-stage casing of a Saturn V rocket. Kevin could tell it was going to be a huge apartment. The ceilings, even in this small, immaculate room, were unreasonably high. A huge, full length mirror, framed and reinforced, hung on the near wall, and there was an antique table beside the front door for keys and the day’s mail. A Savonnerie rug lay on the gleaming, dark-stained wooden floors. Everything was spare and perfect. There were two doorways from which to exit this first room, one leading to an immense living room, the other to a long hallway, the kitchen and den, and then presumably to bedrooms.
Kevin went to the living room first. There was a built-in book case, one of the largest he had ever seen in a Manhattan apartment. It took up an entire wall of the room, and Kevin felt a surge of relief as he recognized some of his own things.
My books .
It was strange how deeply this affected him. All day he had been
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