A half hour later, Junayd arrived at the spot across from the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. Office buildings and a university lined one side of the street while the bridge with a series of open vaults under construction lined the other. A city bus went by, followed by a number of cars.
Yahya opened the back door to the black SUV and nodded to him in greeting. He slid out of the car and pulled his gloves on. The weather was gray, overcast, and cold.
“Where did she disappear?” he asked.
“Go through the gate. Fourth section down, you’ll see a plain brick wall with a slight alcove between two vaults under reconstruction. One second, she was there; the next, she was gone. Around five this morning, a blond woman carrying a backpack suddenly appeared and stepped into a ride share further down t
