it charged up the ramp and stopped where it met the street.
Momentarily blocking the Chrysler’s view.
Matt seized the opportunity. He charged out and leapt over the low wall that gave onto the ramp. He landed heavily, his bones juddering in protest. It had to be at least a ten-foot drop, more if you counted the height of the wall. He rolled on himself before righting into a low squat. Just then, he heard the Escalade thundering off, turning into the street, and exposing him to the Chrysler. Matt dived through the garage door as it closed, and took cover to one side, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.
He peered out, but didn’t sense any movement from the car.
He seemed clear.
The apartment numbers were listed next to the floor buttons in the elevator. He rode it to the third floor and made his way to Csaba’s door and was about to hit the doorbell when he noticed that the door had a peephole in it. He pulled back, looked up, then took off one of his boots, slipped it on his right hand, and quietly smashed a couple of lightbulbs in the hallway, plunging it into darkness. He slipped his boot back on and rang the bell, which chimed inside. Some footfalls echoed and drew near, then a shadow fell across the bottom of the door.
“Who is it?” It was the same, slightly wired voice from the answering machine.
Keeping a wary eye on the elevator, Matt winged it. “I’m a friend of Vince. Vince Bellinger.”
Matt heard some shuffling behind the door, as if Csaba were right up against it, trying to get a better look through the eyepiece—not easy given the now-dark hallway.
“A friend of Vince?” Csaba’s voice had a stammer in it. “What’s—what do you want?”
Matt tried to sound earnest and unthreatening, but firm. “We need to talk. Something happened to him.”
A beat, and more shuffling, then, as if with great reticence, Csaba said, “Vince is dead, man.”
“I know. Would you open the door so we can talk?”
A paralyzing dread seemed to tighten around Csaba’s voice box. “Look, I don’t . . . He’s dead, he’s been murdered, and I don’t know what you want, but—”
“Listen to me,” Matt interjected bluntly, “the same guys who killed him are parked outside your building right now. They heard your phone calls last night, they know what you were talking about, and that’s what got him killed. So if you want me to help you not end up like he did, open the goddamn door.”
A charged silence followed for a brief moment, then a decision was evidently reached, as the lock snapped and the door cracked open. A wide, boyish face surrounded by a shock of shaggy hair peered through the slit—then Csaba’s eyes suddenly widened in panic at the sight of Matt’s face.
“Shit,” Csaba blurted as he tried to push the door shut.
Matt stuck his boot through and shoved the door back and charged in. He shut it behind him as Csaba stumbled back into the room. The big man raised his arms defensively, tripping over himself as he backed away from Matt.
“Don’t hurt me, please, don’t kill me, I don’t know anything, I swear,” he muttered, gesturing frantically.
“What?”
“Don’t kill me, man. I don’t know anything.”
“Calm down,” Matt shot back. “I’m not here to kill you.”
Csaba stared at him in muted terror, droplets of sweat popping up all over his face. Matt studied him for a brief moment—then his attention was torn away by an image on the TV behind Csaba.
The big man noticed Matt’s sudden distraction and sidestepped hesitantly, giving him a full view of the screen. It was on one of the twenty-four-hour news networks and showed the same glowing sign he’d seen earlier, only this wasn’t the same footage. A loud banner on the bottom of the screen proclaimed, “Second unexplained sighting, now over Greenland.”
Matt inched closer to the screen, his forehead furrowed in confusion. “This isn’t the same one as before, is it?”
It took Csaba a second to realize he was being engaged in conversation. “No,” he stammered. “This one’s in the Arctic.”
Matt turned to Csaba, feeling lost. It must have come across clearly in his expression, as Csaba was now shaking even more visibly.
“What?” Matt snapped angrily.
“Don’t kill me, dude. Seriously.”
Matt was missing something. “Stop saying that, all right? What is wrong with you?”
Csaba hesitated, then, as if against his will and with a hollow voice, he said, “I know you killed Vince.”