“Hello, Len,” he said. “Don’t turn around. Do not—” Len remained still. “Good. Glad to see you here. Did you miss me?” The sound of the washers and dryers was enough to mostly drown out their voices.
“Let’s see,” spat Stuart. “You sent a whore to my apartment to drug me. Then you tied me up, threatened me, and beat me. What do you think?”
“I think you knowingly profited from a terrorist attack that killed a lot of innocent people,” said Morgan. “Apart from that, you’re a creep and an asshole. What of it?”
“You were the one in the red mask, weren’t you?”
“I’d advise you not to speculate too much about who I am,” said Morgan. “It could be hazardous to your health.”
Stuart sighed impatiently. “The bitch gave me a concussion. Did you know that?”
“I’m sure you suffered terribly,” said Morgan with mock-concern. A woman across the room started a dryer, which whirred softly. “How about I give a call to someone who was orphaned by one of the attacks you profited from, and you can cry on their shoulder?”
“How about we just get this over with?”
“I’m sure you’re very eager to do your part to set things right. That would set your conscience at ease, wouldn’t it, Len? Just remember, if you turn around or try to sneak a peek in any other way, I break your nose.”
He raised his voice slightly in that last phrase, and the Latina looked up and gave him a sidelong glance, but then went right back to folding a man’s white dress shirt.
“How could I forget, when you put it like that?” Stuart said bitterly.
“Good boy,” Morgan said. “So, the man. He made contact with you again?”
“Yeah. A letter. I found it in the mailbox in my building, inside an envelope.”
“No return address, I take it?”
Stuart scoffed, but Morgan noticed that beads of sweat were forming on the back of his head. “He sent it by courier. There’s a name and a signature.”
“Helpful. Did you bring the envelope?” asked Morgan.
“Yeah, I got it right here. Thought it might be useful. See, I’m looking out for you. You beat me, you threaten me, and still I do right by you.”
“You’re a paragon of selflessness,” Morgan said. “All right, Len, let’s have it then. You’re going to pass it to me under the chairs, on your right-hand side. Understand?”
“Got it,” he said. “Now?”
“On my mark. Three, two, one, go.”
Morgan reached down, and searching with his hand, he found the proffered envelope. It was light cardboard. He brought it up to his lap. He looked down at it and saw that it had the label of a courier company. He opened it and drew out the paper inside. Holding it at his lap, he unfolded it carefully to glance at it.
“Are you kidding me?” he said when he saw its contents.
“That’s what I got,” said Stuart. “Exactly as it was delivered to me.”
Morgan looked at the note again and then said, “I’ll be in touch.” He tucked the note into his jacket pocket, got up, and put his hat on. The bell on the door rang as he pushed it open, and walked back out into the cold.
Morgan waited down the block from Stuart’s building, conspicuously holding a manila envelope in his gloved hand. The sun, already low in the sky, shone off the windows of the buildings overhead. Morgan looked at his watch, then up to see the bicycle approaching. Right on time, a lean young man in full gear rode along and stopped in front of him, skidding for two feet on slush as he did.
“Hey, man, are you the pickup?” he asked without getting off his bike. He had blond stubble on a dopey face and curls peeked out from under his helmet.
“Yeah,” said Morgan. “Listen, I need to have a word with you.”
“A word? Hey man, I got less than fifteen minutes to make it all the way to Canal Street. Is that the package there?” He began to reach for the envelope.
“Stay,” said Morgan, pulling back the envelope and offering him a folded fifty instead. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
The man looked backwards and forwards nervously. Morgan could tell he wasn’t used to taking bribes. He looked like he’d gone to college, one of those granola health-freak types, doing this as a day job while trying to make it in the city. But apparently, his need spoke louder, because he took the proffered bill and got off his bike. “All right, what’s up?”
“You delivered something earlier today to that building down there. Ring a bell?”
“Hey, what is this?” he said, frowning and leaning back. “I deliver a lot of things. I don’t remember anything about particular pickups.”