Andre
THE NIGHT AIR bites at my skin as I make my way down one of the isolated alleyways cutting through the city’s north side. Tonight’s task is one that’s significantly easier to accomplish during the summer months, when the people I’m seeking aren’t hunkered down and hiding from the snow.
But I need to know what’s happening and I need to know now.
I flip up the collar of my coat as the icy wind whips between the deteriorating industrial structures around me, ignoring the chill as I stalk deeper into the shadows edging a part of New York that tourists never touch.
“I don’t think she’s down here, Andre.” Victor, as always, is by my side. And, like always, he’s frowning at me, not even attempting to hide the fact that he doesn’t believe the information we received.
But I do, and that’s all that matters.
“She’s down here.” I don’t explain how I know to him. How I know is irrelevant. The fact that I said she’s here should be reason enough. Victor’s job isn’t to offer his opinion.
I scan the darkened corners of the isolated alleyway, squinting as I attempt to identify the piles of trash dumped throughout the space, looking for the telltale signs of Ruby’s home.
She always has a shopping cart. It’s what she uses to transport her few possessions from place to place as she moves throughout the city unnoticed, one of the many invisible faces everyone else pretends not to see.
Which is their loss.
And my gain.
Another racing gust of wind cuts down the narrow gap of space one of my informants told me Ruby has been calling home.
And I’m still sure that information was correct.
But I’m no longer confident it was current.
I’m beginning to worry Victor will believe he’s right when a barely perceptible chiming sound carries on the wind. The soft sound brings a smile to my lips and a long sigh from Victor’s lungs.
I turn and make my way toward the sound. “This way.”
The sound of Ruby’s wind chime is easier to pick out now. The hollow rush of the wind between the buildings nearly drowned it out, but it’s easy to identify now that I know it’s there.
And so is she.
Tucked beside an overflowing dumpster and the jut of an unused delivery bay is a familiar tarp. It’s weighted down around the edges with broken chunks of concrete, and Ruby’s shopping cart covers the only opening to the makeshift structure. I reach one gloved hand out and run my finger across the chimes dangling from the cart’s handle, sending them bouncing off each other.
“What do you want?” Ruby’s voice is raspy from age and hard living, but tonight it doesn’t seem as sharp as normal.
I crouch down, peering through the metal gridwork of the cart into the pile of discarded items she currently calls home. “I came to see what you know.”
“About what?” Ruby is one of the few people I allow to talk to me the way she does. The information she offers me has earned her the privilege.
“Don’t play stupid, Ruby. You know what I’m here for.” I lean closer so she can see my face. “Tell me what Frederick’s up to.”
“Ugh.” There’s movement inside the little shelter as she slowly sits up. “Talking to you about that one’s going to get me killed, you know that, Andre?”
“Not talking to me about him is likely to have the same result.” I shift the shopping cart, trying to get a better look at her. “You have information I want, Ruby. I’ll do what it takes to get it.”
Her withered face finally comes into view and I would almost swear she rolls her eyes at me as she hefts the blankets covering her small frame to one side, grunting with the effort. “Whatever.”
I met Ruby nearly fifteen years ago and immediately realized what an asset she could be. Like everyone else in this castoff bit of the world, she spends her time being ignored by people stupid enough to be blind to her value.
“I heard you were camped out by St. Paul’s when Frederick made a visit there.” The information I’ve managed to glean from my contacts has been sparse.
And troubling.
Which is why I’m here in the freezing cold and filth, hoping Ruby can offer me more.