Cavalier stole a glance at the man, and felt it could be Dubois. The stalker did not know it, but he had become the stalked.

The uptown train nosed into the station. The stalker jumped in. Cavalier stepped in at the other end of the carriage. It was full but he could see his target’s bald head over the sea of commuters. The passengers on the train thinned a little over the next twenty or so minutes it took to reach 79th Street West. The stalker alighted there with a dozen other people, including Cavalier.

He followed the man up into 79th Street. The location gave Cavalier a weird feeling. He’d had an apartment on this street in 1984 while based in New York during the presidential election, which he’d been covering as a journalist. Thirty-five-year-old memories of the area flooded back.

The stalker’s head jerked left as people moved over the road. Cavalier stayed fifty metres behind.

The stalker stopped at Central Park West. He looked at his watch. Cavalier did the same. It was just after 8 p.m. The stalker moved two blocks west. Cavalier followed in the shadows and was thankful for the number of New Yorkers strolling in both directions.

The stalker hesitated on 81st Street outside where Cavalier’s favourite cafe, Museum Cafe, had once been. It was a fast-food burger place now, Shake Shack. Cavalier was momentarily confused and wondered if his memory had played tricks on him. He pulled his jacket collar over his neck, adjusted a scarf and crossed Central Park West to the American Museum of Natural History.

He could see the stalker just inside Shake Shack in discussion with a waiter. It seemed the cafe was full. The stalker walked out, looked both ways and then proceeded up 81st Street on the left side. Cavalier strode up the right side and pretended to be on the phone. The stalker entered an apartment block at number thirty-five. Cavalier, still with his phone to his ear and fumbling for a skeleton key, entered the twelve-storey building behind two other people.

Cavalier noted that one of the two elevators was stopped at the fourth floor. He sat on a sofa in the lobby, with its impressive marble floor, and continued his fake, soft phone chat. There was a desk but no doormen or receptionists. The couple who had entered with him close behind pressed the button for the elevator and a minute later disappeared into it.

Cavalier silenced his phone and waited until the elevator was moving before he walked up the stairs to the fourth floor. He had no idea where the stalker’s room was. He walked to a small access area where bins were stored and was out of view of anyone coming from the apartments.

He waited, his heart pounding. He began yoga breathing to calm himself.

59 DEATH ON 81st STREET WEST

59

DEATH ON 81st STREET WEST