Iron Orchid (Holly Barker 5)

LANCE WAS SITTING AT HIS DESK, disconsolately working his way through some administrative paperwork, when his cell phone vibrated on his belt.

“Yes?”

A man’s excited voice riveted his attention. “He’s in Saks!” he panted.

“Who?”

“Teddy Fay. There was some sort of commotion and gunfire over at Rockefeller Plaza, and I spotted a man who fits the description crossing the street and ducking into the store. Request maximum backup!”

“Easy now,” Lance said. “Did anybody else make him?”

“Martin did; she radioed me, and I was on my way when I saw the guy. He matched the description.”

“Give me the description?”

“Six feet, slim, wearing a tweed overcoat and a regular felt men’s hat, broken nose, mustache and chin whiskers, brown. He was carrying a shopping bag, a red one, filled with wrapped presents.”

“I’ll have people there shortly,” Lance said. “In the meantime, have your team cover the main floor exits; don’t let him leave the store.”

“Got it.”

Lance closed his cell phone, picked up his desk phone and entered a twelve-digit number that would ring the cell phones of every man and woman in his unit. “Listen up, everybody; Teddy Fay has been spotted at Saks Fifth Avenue, that’s between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth. Everybody converge on Saks right now, no delay. When last seen Fay was wearing a tweed topcoat, a felt hat, a broken nose and a brown Vandyke beard. He’s carrying a red shopping bag with wrapped gifts inside.” He repeated the instructions, then dialed the front desk. “This is Cabot; I want a car out front now.” He ran for the elevator.

HOLLY WAS TALKING to a police detective when her cell phone rang and she got Lance’s message. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll talk to you, Lieutenant, later.”

“You can’t go,” the detective said. “This is a police investigation.”

“No,” she said, “it’s a national security matter. Mr. Barker will continue to talk to you.” She sprinted toward Fifth Avenue, grateful that she had not worn high heels. Traffic was at a standstill, and she threaded her way through it and ran into Saks through the center revolving doors. She immediately spotted a team member guarding the entrance and ran up to him. “What’s the word?”

“He’s upstairs somewhere,” the man replied. “Lance is scrambling everybody. In the meantime, we’re to watch the exits; we can use your help.”

“How did he get upstairs?”

“Elevator. An agent saw him.”

Holly ran for the rear of the store. She was about to go for the elevators when she saw the escalator. That would give her at least a quick look at each floor. She got on and headed up. On the second floor she got off, looked slowly around for as far as she could see. No tweed topcoat, not that he would still be wearing that. She got back on the escalator and began ascending, looking for a man with no coat at all.

AS TEDDY REACHED the fifth floor he caught sight of someone coming up the escalator whose clothes he coveted. The man got off on five, and so did Teddy. He followed the man, who turned immediately through a door marked “Employees Only.”

Teddy followed him to a men’s room, and as the man stood at a urinal, Teddy fetched him a hard chop across the back of his neck. The man collapsed as if he had no legs.

Teddy stripped off the man’s outer clothing and got into his outfit. He put his tweed cap in a pocket, then pulled off the man’s beard and put it on. A quick check of the mirror, and he was out of there, headed for the escalator.

He had no sooner stepped onto it than he saw, coming up, a red tam. Holly looked up and directly at him, then looked away. Had she spotted him? Maybe, but she wouldn’t recognize him. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as she passed him going up.

Teddy continued to the ground floor and got off the escalator. He walked, but not too quickly, toward the 49th Street exit, and as he did, people passing him waved and said, “Merry Christmas!” to him. “Merry Christmas!” he said back, and occasionally, “Ho, ho, ho.”

He saw the woman with the baby carriage standing between him and the door. She no longer had the carriage, and she was looking desperately around the ground floor. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he passed her.

“Yeah, same to you,” she said, not looking at him.

Out on the sidewalk Teddy started walking toward Madison Avenue, looking for a cab. The air was filled with sirens, and people were still running away from Rockefeller Center. He made it to Madison and got lucky with the bus. A moment later, he was riding up Madison, and at 50th Street, he got a glimpse of the continuing chaos. He sat down next to a little boy.

“Hi, Santa,” the boy said.

“Hi, there. Merry Christmas,” Teddy said.

“Can I have a micro-motorcycle for Christmas this year?”