جستجوی نظافتچی

CHAPTER SIX

The Search for the Cleaner

The following morning, Tobin met Rory Rudd in the U.N building.

“The door of her locker was clean,” Rory said. “There were no fingerprints on it. Somebody had a key, used it, and then cleaned the locker. We’re looking for a cleaner.”

“Or another interpreter,” Tobin said. He called Doug.

“Go down to the interpreters’ restroom and talk to the cleaner,” he ordered. “Take somebody with you. Find out about that locker.”

An hour later, Doug and another agent, Russell, were trying to talk to the cleaner.

“Did you clean around these lockers yesterday” Russell asked.

The Portuguese cleaner didn’t understand the question, so Russell asked him again. The cleaner shook his head.

“I wasn’t working,” he said slowly. “Yesterday Jamal worked for me.”

Russell looked at his papers. “Jad Jamal,” he said. “He lives in crown Heights.”

The two men left the U.N. Soon they were in Crown Heights, running up the stairs to Jamal’s apartment. They knocked loudly on the door.

The well-dressed African opened the door and looked calmly at the two agents. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and he was holding a towel in his hand.

Doug showed his security card. “Secret Service,” he said. “We want to talk with Mr. Jamal.”

The well-dressed African smiled and shook his head.

“He doesn’t understand English,” Russell said to Doug.

Doug tried again. He showed Jamal’s picture to the African.

“Does this guy live here?”

“No– not here” the African said. He opened the door. “You want to see?”

Doug gave him a card. “Tell him to call this number. Soon.”

The agents ran down the stairs and out of the building. The well-dressed African smiled again, closed the apartment door, and threw the card onto the floor.

Back at the U.N building, Silvia was upstairs in the interpreters’ lunch room. She picked up a newspaper and looked at the front page. There was a story about Kuman-Kuman in New York: “Kuman-Kuman - a man of the people who now takes the bus.”

Suddenly, Silvia had a plan. She threw down the newspaper and ran to the door. When she reached the doors to the U.N building, a woman stepped out in front of her.

“Ms. Broome.” Silvia turned, surprised. “I’ll take you home,” Dot said.

As they climbed into the back of a Secret Service car, they didn’t notice a man watching them. He was unshaven, and his eyes were red with tiredness. His long, dark hair was dirty.

“Tobin is sometimes difficult,” Dot said. “I’m sorry. He’s having a bad time.” Silvia didn’t answer. She was looking out the car window. “He– lost his wife.”

“Did you know her” Silvia asked.

“She was a dancer.”

“Are you in love with him” Silvia asked.

Dot turned quickly and looked at Silvia. There was a long silence, then she said, “Sometimes.”

The car stopped at Silvia’s apartment and she got out. She smiled at Dot, then ran up the steps into the building. A few minutes later, she was sitting at her desk when the phone rang.

In the apartment across the street, Dot listened to the call with Agents Lewis and King.

“Hello” Silvia said.

“Silvia, it’s me - Philippe.”

They spoke quickly in French, then Silvia put down the phone. She picked up her coat and left the apartment.

“I’ll follow her,” King said.

Silvia ran into the street and climbed onto her motorcycle. King got into his car. There was a lot of traffic, but Silvia moved quickly through it. King couldn’t follow her. He called Dot.

“I lost her,” he said angrily.

He drove through the streets - and then he saw her.