Born In Death

The bus driver’s name was Braunstein, and he was about two hundred pounds of hard fat in a New York Giants football jersey. He was fifty-two, married, and was spending his Saturday evening watching a post-season game on-screen with his brother-in-law and son while his wife, his sister, and niece took in some – in his words – “girlie vids” at a local theater.

His irritation at having his viewing interrupted was obvious, until Eve mentioned Tandy’s name.

“London Bridge? That’s what I call her. Sure I know her. Rides with me most every night. Always has her fare card ready, lots don’t. Got a nice smile. She sits right behind me. Somebody takes that seat, I make ’em get up, give it to her. Her delicate condition and all.

“She gave me a nice tin of cookies for the holidays. Made them herself. She got trouble?”

“I don’t know that yet. Did she ride with you Thursday evening?”

“Thursday.” He scratched his chin, which badly needed a shave. “Nope. Fu

He glanced around as both of his companions erupted with rage at a call on the field. “Offside, my rosy red ass,” one of them shouted.

“Goddamn refs,” Braunstien muttered. “’Scuze the language. Anyway, I asked her about it – the box – when she got on, and she said how she had a baby shower on the weekend. Listen, that little girl get hurt or something? I told her she ought to take the maternity leave, close as she was. She okay? She and the baby okay?”

“I hope so. On the bus, you ever notice anyone paying too much attention to her? Hanging too close, keeping an eye? Anything like that?”

“No, and I woulda.” He scratched his prominent belly. “I kinda looked out for her during the run, you know? Got some regulars, and some of them might strike up a conversation with her the way people do when a woman’s carrying a bun. You know, ‘How you feeling?’ ‘When are you due?’ ‘Pick out any names,’ that kind of thing. But nobody bothered her. I wouldn’a let them.”

“How about people who got off at her stop?”

“Sure, there’d be some. Regulars and otherwise. Never noticed anybody looking fu

“I don’t know. No one’s seen her, as far as we can tell, since Thursday, at around six o’clock.”

“Well, Jesus.” This time Braunstien showed no reaction to the shouts and curses coming from the living room. “Jesus, that’s not right.”

People like her,” Eve said as she drove. “Like people liked Copperfield and Byson.”

“Bad things happen to likable people,” Roarke pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah, they do. I’m going by where she worked. Walk from there to her bus stop. Get a feel.”

Outside the White Stork, Eve watched traffic zing uptown on Madison. It was later than it would have been when Tandy left work, and a Saturday rather than a weekday. But it would’ve been going dark at six, and, as she recalled, that day was gloomy.

Streetlights on, she mused, headlights cutting through the dank light.

“Cold,” she said aloud. “People bundled up, like they are now. Walking brisk, most of them walking brisk. Want to get home, or get where they’re going. Early di

Eve started to walk it with Roarke beside her. “She’s going to move with the lights. If she hits the walk, she’ll go on down the second block, then over. If she doesn’t, she’ll do the cross-town block first. You want to keep moving.”

“No way to know which way she did it.”

“No.” But since they caught the light, Eve continued through the intersection. “Least likely place to snatch her – if it was a snatch – is the corner. More people, closer together. You want to come up behind her.”

She demonstrated when they were near the middle of the block, falling back a few steps, then coming in quick, banding an arm around Roarke’s waist.

“Using a weapon?” he speculated. “Otherwise she’d react – call out, struggle. Even the most jaded would stop when an obviously pregnant woman is in trouble.”

“A weapon,” Eve agreed. “Or it was someone she knew. Hey, Tandy!” Eve shifted her arm, firmed it tight around Roarke. “How’s it going? Boy, you sure are carrying a load there. How about a lift home? Got my car right down there.”

“Possibly.” He turned west as she did to walk to Fifth. “Who does she know?”

“Customers, neighbors, someone through the birthing class or center. Someone from back in England. Baby’s father. Had to be force or familiarity. Maybe both. Had to be quick and quiet, because, yeah, somebody’s going to notice a pregnant woman struggling with someone. We’ll show her picture around this area, in case someone did.”

Once they hit Fifth, she turned north to walk back on the alternate route.

“Probably took her on the cross street,” Eve said. “Always less foot traffic than the avenues. Had to have a vehicle, or possibly…” She sca

“And why wouldn’t she resist once she was in a vehicle?”

“Force? She could have been sedated, or she was afraid. Maybe there was more than one abductor. Familiar, she could have been pleased to see someone she knew, and to be off her feet, catch a ride home.”

She sca

“Somebody willing to take a risk, moving quick and smooth. Sure, you could pluck a woman right off the sidewalk. It happens. One of the cross streets,” she repeated. “Makes the most sense, but you can’t be sure which one she’ll use. Wouldn’t park the vehicle, if you’re using one, on the street. Not if you’re doing the snatch alone. And if you were lucky enough to find a spot anyway. Closest parking lot to her work, that’s what you’d use.”

“Logical,” Roarke agreed, and took out his PPC. He tapped a few buttons, nodded. “There’s a lot on Fifty-eighth, between Madison and Fifth.”

“That’d be handy, wouldn’t it? You’d only have to walk her a couple of southbound blocks. Let’s go have a look at it.”

She wanted to walk it, again taking the most logical route. It was an automated lot with no attendant, human or droid, and on this Saturday evening, at capacity.

It boasted a security cam, but even if it worked, she knew the disc would have been dumped every twenty-four hours. She noted down the number posted for contact. “Maybe we’ll get lucky on the security disc,” she told Roarke. “They should have records, in any case, of payments. We’ll want ID on any vehicles leaving the lot between eighteen and nineteen hundred on Thursday.”

She dipped her hands in her pockets. “Or he could’ve had a partner circling the blocks, and we’re screwed on this angle.”

Or they paid in cash, Roarke thought. Used a stolen vehicle. Eve would be considering those possibilities as well, he knew, so didn’t bother to comment. “If she was taken the way you’re theorizing, it was pla

“I’d say the probability of it being a random snatch is low, but I’m going to run it. Somebody knew her routine, her schedule, her routes. Somebody wanted her and/or the baby she’s carrying specifically.”

“Leans toward the father, then, doesn’t it?”

“High on the list. All I have to do is identify him.”