while, I think.”
That meant the attack had probably occurred just prior to the time I’d been rifling through Robby’s desk drawers—or perhaps even during that time. If that was the case, the assailant hadn’t left by the main entrance because I would have seen him. He must have snuck down one of the stairwells—
or
had exited through the door on this floor that led to the
Track
offices.
“Okay, sit tight for a second,” I told her. I rushed back into Mona’s office. Mona’s body was still twitching, but less than it had before. Her head was now drooping to the left. I wished there were something I could
do.
From behind me I heard a commotion, and I stepped outside the office again. Lights suddenly flooded the bullpen, and I saw one of the building security guards running in our direction. A look of panic had formed on Katya’s face.
“It’s just the building guard,” I told her. I stepped outside the vestibule into the aisle.
The guy was no more than twenty-five, a skinny Pakistani who looked terrified, as if up until this point the worst thing he’d encountered in his job was people sneaking out of the building with boxes of file folders.
“Where are they?” he yelled at me. “What happened?”
Before I could even answer, we heard more noise. Charging down the hall behind him were four EMS workers and two New York City uniformed cops and behind them one of the big burly security guys who’d been on duty outside the
Track
party. It looked as if he had hitched a ride to see what the excitement was. This was the first indication of just how much of a circus this was going to become.
The group reached the vestibule and came to an abrupt stop, staring at me expectantly. One of the patrol cops was a woman, thirty or so, African American, and the other was a white guy who seemed pretty green.
I pointed over toward Katya, explaining that she had been attacked and that there was a more seriously injured victim inside the office, the editor of the magazine. The security guard was told by the female cop to return to the reception area and make certain no one entered or left the
Buzz
offices. She also dispatched the young cop to make a sweep of the floor. Three of the EMS crew hustled into Mona’s office, followed by the female cop, and the other went over to Katya. He examined the scalp wound and immediately took her blood pressure. A minute later the cop emerged from the office, speaking into her walkie-talkie. She signed off, pulled a chair up to Katya, and began asking her questions, taking the answers down on a pad inside a thick black leather holder. Katya told her the same thing she’d told me, though by now she seemed slightly more coherent.
When it was clear she’d extracted all she could out of Katya—which wasn’t much—the cop turned her attention to me.
“You found the victims?” she asked after she’d jotted down my name and address and determined that I worked at
Buzz.
“Yes. Just before eight-thirty I heard some moaning and then I saw Katya kneeling down with her hands on her head. As I was trying to help her, I noticed the overturned chair in the editor’s office and looked inside. That’s when I saw Mona—”
“You were working
this
late tonight?”
“Sort of. I was on business outside of the office all day and I came by to pick up some work in my in-box.”
I didn’t like being less than truthful with a cop, but I’d made a decision a few minutes ago to leave Robby out of any explanation I offered about my presence here tonight. I was worried that I’d get him into trouble if I mentioned the secret mission he’d assigned me. Besides, I really
had
picked up work from my in-box.
“Did you see anyone else here?”
“No, not a soul,” I said, shaking my head. “Though there are plenty of people over at the party.”
She pointed to the art department, the area directly beyond Mona’s vestibule, and told me to take a seat there. Detectives, she said, would want
That meant the attack had probably occurred just prior to the time I’d been rifling through Robby’s desk drawers—or perhaps even during that time. If that was the case, the assailant hadn’t left by the main entrance because I would have seen him. He must have snuck down one of the stairwells—
or
had exited through the door on this floor that led to the
Track
offices.
“Okay, sit tight for a second,” I told her. I rushed back into Mona’s office. Mona’s body was still twitching, but less than it had before. Her head was now drooping to the left. I wished there were something I could
do.
From behind me I heard a commotion, and I stepped outside the office again. Lights suddenly flooded the bullpen, and I saw one of the building security guards running in our direction. A look of panic had formed on Katya’s face.
“It’s just the building guard,” I told her. I stepped outside the vestibule into the aisle.
The guy was no more than twenty-five, a skinny Pakistani who looked terrified, as if up until this point the worst thing he’d encountered in his job was people sneaking out of the building with boxes of file folders.
“Where are they?” he yelled at me. “What happened?”
Before I could even answer, we heard more noise. Charging down the hall behind him were four EMS workers and two New York City uniformed cops and behind them one of the big burly security guys who’d been on duty outside the
Track
party. It looked as if he had hitched a ride to see what the excitement was. This was the first indication of just how much of a circus this was going to become.
The group reached the vestibule and came to an abrupt stop, staring at me expectantly. One of the patrol cops was a woman, thirty or so, African American, and the other was a white guy who seemed pretty green.
I pointed over toward Katya, explaining that she had been attacked and that there was a more seriously injured victim inside the office, the editor of the magazine. The security guard was told by the female cop to return to the reception area and make certain no one entered or left the
Buzz
offices. She also dispatched the young cop to make a sweep of the floor. Three of the EMS crew hustled into Mona’s office, followed by the female cop, and the other went over to Katya. He examined the scalp wound and immediately took her blood pressure. A minute later the cop emerged from the office, speaking into her walkie-talkie. She signed off, pulled a chair up to Katya, and began asking her questions, taking the answers down on a pad inside a thick black leather holder. Katya told her the same thing she’d told me, though by now she seemed slightly more coherent.
When it was clear she’d extracted all she could out of Katya—which wasn’t much—the cop turned her attention to me.
“You found the victims?” she asked after she’d jotted down my name and address and determined that I worked at
Buzz.
“Yes. Just before eight-thirty I heard some moaning and then I saw Katya kneeling down with her hands on her head. As I was trying to help her, I noticed the overturned chair in the editor’s office and looked inside. That’s when I saw Mona—”
“You were working
this
late tonight?”
“Sort of. I was on business outside of the office all day and I came by to pick up some work in my in-box.”
I didn’t like being less than truthful with a cop, but I’d made a decision a few minutes ago to leave Robby out of any explanation I offered about my presence here tonight. I was worried that I’d get him into trouble if I mentioned the secret mission he’d assigned me. Besides, I really
had
picked up work from my in-box.
“Did you see anyone else here?”
“No, not a soul,” I said, shaking my head. “Though there are plenty of people over at the party.”
She pointed to the art department, the area directly beyond Mona’s vestibule, and told me to take a seat there. Detectives, she said, would want
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