The Russian ended his call. Then, as always happened in discussions between men, Dixon knew, the mood changed, unmistakably, and it was time for serious horse trading. Karpankov put his fingers together, like he’d buried the pleasantries and tepeed dirt over their grave. ‘Now, I’m aware of something.’
‘Okay.’
Karpankov often said that. He was aware of something.
‘Have you ever heard of the October List?’
‘Not familiar. Nope. What is it?’
‘I’m not exactly sure. But I do know this: It’s a list of names of some people who’re powerful. And dangerous. About thirty, maybe a few more. I’ve heard some of ’em I might’ve done business with in the past.’
‘October List. Why’s it called that?’
A shrug. ‘Nobody I’ve talked to knows. A mystery. It could mean all hell’s going to break loose in October.’
‘Next month.’
‘Next month. Or maybe it’s that something big happened last October and there’re plans in place as a result. Now, Hal, I want that list. I need the list. But I can’t have my people do it – ’cause I may have a connection. Those people I’ve worked with. You don’t have any connection.’
Because I’m smaller fucking potatoes, Dixon thought. But that didn’t bother him. He nodded eagerly, like a dog. Well, a normal dog, not the big fucker in the corner.
The Russian continued, ‘Now, here’s the thing. I heard from Henry – you know Henry, my facilitator?’
‘Right. I know Henry. Good man.’
‘He is, yes. He heard that there’s a woman lives in the city has the list or knows where it is. You get the list from her, then you and me, we’ll go half and half on the Newark project.’
‘Fifty percent?’ Dixon blurted. ‘That’s very generous, Pete.’
The man waved off the gratitude. ‘This woman’s name is Gabriela McKenzie. She was the office manager of the prick who kept the list – he’s skipped town.’
‘You have her address?’
‘Upper West Side but she’s not there.’ Karpankov tepeed his fingers. He leaned forward. ‘She and some guy she’s with’re keeping low, but my sources say they’re in the city somewhere. His name’s Reardon. My people’ll tell me they’ll find out their location tonight or tomorrow and let me know.’ His voice lowered further, and he put his hands flat on the table. ‘Hal, I heard you were the go-to man when it came to life in the streets, you know what I mean? Life in the trenches.’
‘I try,’ Dixon said modestly. ‘I know my way around.’
Karpankov cleared his throat. His eyes slid away to a model car on his desk, one of the six Fords. An Edsel. ‘And you’d do whatever you need to, to get the list? You have no problem with that, do you? Even with this person being a woman. And innocent.’
‘Not a problem at all.’ Dixon meant this, though he didn’t add he already found the task a turn-on.
‘She’s going to be skittish.’
‘Girls get that way. Especially depending on the time of month.’
Karpankov smiled. ‘I mean, she’ll be cautious. I’m not the only one who wants the list. There’re some other people after it.’
‘Sure, you get me her location, and I’ll take care of it.’ Dixon frowned as he considered the job. ‘So she knows people are looking for her?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You know one thing I’ve done works pretty good especially with the ladies? I tell ’em I’m like a deacon in a church. It gets their guard down. I even carry a Bible around with me.’ He fished the little black book out of his breast pocket.
‘Smart, Hal.’
The man beamed. ‘That’ll let me get up close. Then I pull out my piece and get her into my car. Take her to one of the construction sites, and go to work on her. She’ll tell me where the list is. And after? We’re pouring concrete Monday at the shopping center. They’ll never find the body.’
‘Good.’
‘And the guy with her? He connected?’
‘No, just some businessman she’s sleeping with, I think. I don’t care about him. But …’ A third tepee.
‘I’ll take care of him too. Probably better just to shoot him.’
An approving nod from the Russian. ‘I’ll call you as soon as my people find her.’
The men rose and shook hands again, even more energetically this time, and the gold links clinked dully. Seeing Dixon grip his master’s hand so fervently, the dog stood. Dixon released and stepped back immediately.
‘It’s okay,’ Karpankov said. ‘He likes you.’
Yeah, Dixon thought, for a main course. He smiled at the dog, who was content to stand and stare.
In five minutes Hal Dixon was outside on the cool, windswept street, tugging his light suit around him. He was relaxing now that he was away from organized crime overlord Peter Karpankov and Godzilla. He began down the street with a jaunty bounce, wondering who he could sell the October List to once he made his own copy.
CHAPTER
19
8:30 p.m., Saturday
1 hour, 30 minutes earlier
‘Horrible,’ Gabriela whispered, her teeth set close.
She was quivering. Eyes closed, breathing heavily. ‘How could he do that?’ In the back of the taxi she leaned into Daniel and he put his arm around her shoulders. She wiped her eyes. ‘How could somebody do something so despicable?’ Looking at the CVS pharmacy plastic bag at their feet, Gabriela eased closer yet and he tightened his grip. He was strong. The nice suits he wore, the thick yet draping cloth, largely concealed his physique, but one touch of his arm left no doubt he was in good shape.
She thought again about meeting him Friday, yesterday.
And what had transpired.
Felt a low pop within her, at the memory of Daniel, so very close, wiping the moisture from her forehead – then, with the same handkerchief, from his.
Was it just twenty-four hours ago? It seemed ages.
The ping again, lower, warmer, pulsing. But she pushed the thought away. Now was hardly the time.
Sarah …
A half hour earlier their taxi had stopped at his loft in TriBeCa, and he’d picked up a gym bag containing toiletries and a change of clothing. They were now on the way to her apartment so she could do the same – and, most important, collect the file folders.
She told him, ‘The documents might not have anything helpful but they’re all we’ve got to save Sarah’s life. I’m grasping at straws at this point.’
Now it was Daniel’s gaze that settled on the plastic bag, crumpled like a tiny pale body. Despite what they’d been through, he had remained the epitome of calm – until, in that disgusting alley, he’d seen what tumbled from the sack. He’d jerked back, a more violent reaction than hers.
He’d hissed, ‘Jesus …’
The shock was gone but in its place was a surfeit of anger and, perhaps, resolve.
‘Why did you want to keep it?’ she asked.
When they’d been in the alley Gabriela had flung the bag away fast, as if it were coated in acid. But Daniel, using his elegant silk handkerchief, had collected the sack, along with its contents.
He now said, ‘Evidence. There’ll be DNA on it’ – a nod toward the bag – ‘maybe even Joseph’s fingerprints … if he got careless.’
‘Sure. I hadn’t thought about that. I was emotional.’
‘Pretty understandable under the circumstances.’
They now drove in silence. When the cab breached Central Park and was nearing her apartment she glanced at the driver to see if he was listening but he was on the mobile speaking in some Middle Eastern language, lost in his conversation. She whispered to Daniel, ‘The police’ll be watching. Joseph could be too.’
So she directed the driver to the street one block north, behind the apartment building. The yellow cab parked on a dark side street. ‘I’ll just be a few minutes,’ she told the driver.
But the waiting clock on the cab meter was running and he couldn’t have cared less what his passengers were up to, what secret missions loomed. He resumed his staccato conversation.
Gabriela slipped from the cab and, walking close to the walls of the adjacent buildings, as if spies were after her, made her way to the service door of her apartment. The loading dock wasn’t locked but the door leading into the basement was. Her front door key, however, let her in.
In five minutes she was in her apartment, which she kept dark. Working mostly by feel, she found and stuffed clothing and the business files she wanted into her nylon gym bag and then looked out of the door carefully, checking to make sure there were no neighbors or, of more concern, NYPD officers lurking in the halls. But no one was present.
She locked the door behind her.
Outside once more, she slipped quickly into the backseat and the driver eased away from the curb.
Daniel pressed her knee.
After several blocks: ‘Sarah,’ she said, a plaintive musing. ‘I wonder what she’s doing now, what’s going through her mind.’
‘Don’t think about that,’ Daniel whispered. She felt the enveloping sense of warmth as his arm encircled her shoulders again.
Winding through Saturday-evening traffic, which slowed with congestion around Lincoln Center, the cabbie steered south and east through Midtown. In ten minutes they were at the Waldorf Astoria. Daniel paid the driver and they stepped out onto the sidewalk on Park Avenue. Using a napkin again, he took the plastic bag, with its sick contents, and stuffed it into his gym bag.
‘Be careful,’ she said, numbly. ‘The blood.’
As they walked into the lobby, she stopped and blinked. ‘My God, it’s beautiful.’
‘You’ve never been to the Waldorf?’
‘Not exactly in my financial genetics.’
‘I generally just meet clients here, but I’ve stayed a few times. When I’m having work done on my place. This’s old New York. That’s what I like about it.’
Her head swiveled back and forth, taking in the rich wood, the massive clock in the center of the lobby, the soaring ceilings.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll sightsee later.’
At the desk, they checked in, two rooms, Daniel using his credit card; he was worried that the police or someone else who might want the October List could track her here if she used hers. Datamining was all the rage nowadays, she’d read in The New Yorker.
They got out of the elevator. Their rooms weren’t adjacent but were on the same floor, not far apart. As they walked down the corridor, Gabriela felt the seeds of attraction unfolding again – even greater than the feelings she’d sensed in the bar yesterday when they’d met.
Yes, she kept thinking, Sarah, Sarah. The name, however, didn’t stop the stirrings deep within as she stole a glance at Daniel. But then: How can you possibly think of sleeping with him?
Still, she countered: Perhaps because you’ve been lonely for too many years.
And because Daniel Reardon is a little – maybe a lot – like you?
But she reminded: Stay focused.
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah …
In the hallway he said, ‘Let’s get something to eat. Or a drink at least.’
‘Yes, I guess I need something.’
That morning’s breakfast, which they’d shared, was a hazy memory.
After dropping the bags in their respective rooms, they met downstairs in the subdued, elegant lobby bar. They sat beside each other in a banquette, their knees touching. The server, a woman with severely bunned hair, approached and greeted them, sharing that her name was Liz. She inquired if they were in town on business or for a vacation. Gabriela let Daniel answer.
‘Just seeing the sights,’ he said amiably.
‘Sorry the weather’s not nicer. It was warm last week.’
They ordered: cheese and pâté and bread, and a bottle of Brunello.
Sipping the potent Tuscan wine, they talked about everything, free associating – everything, that is, except the October List and the kidnapping, much less the plastic bag. She’d brought to the table with her the files from her apartment, labeled Prescott Investments – Open Items. But she let them sit unopened, as if afraid they might not have the answers as to how they could save a kidnapped child.
She looked at her phone and sighed. ‘From Rafael. He got out safe and made the delivery. So far, so good.’
Nodding at this bit of good news, Daniel slipped his jacket off and she caught a glimpse of a line of reddish flesh, a scar visible in the V where his shirt tugged open. It crossed from chest to shoulder. He caught her eyes and pulled his shirt closed again, self-consciously.
‘Can I ask what happened?’
He seemed to be debating.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘No, I’ll tell you. A few years ago I was driving with the kids up to New Hampshire and I was really tired. I shouldn’t have pushed it. I fell asleep and went off the road.’
‘Jesus.’
‘The car went down an embankment into a river. The doors were wedged shut. It started to fill up with water.’
‘Daniel, no!’
‘God, it was cold. We’d gone to see the leaves. It was September but really frigid.’
‘What happened?’ she whispered.
‘We would all’ve drowned but some local guy happened to drive by – looked like he was out of Deliverance, you know? A mountain man sort, a redneck. He drove his pickup down the embankment, grabbed an ax and jumped in after us, even though the water had to be about thirty-five degrees. He just swam to the car and kept smacking away at the back window until he got us out. I got cut on a piece of metal after I shoved the boys out.’
‘Oh, how terrible.’
Daniel gave a brief laugh. ‘And, you know what? As soon as we were on the shore, he waved goodbye and left. Wouldn’t take any money, wouldn’t give me his name even. He just acted like, hell, who wouldn’t risk freezing to death to save somebody? Like it was the most natural thing in the world.’
‘It hurts still?’ A nod toward his chest.
‘No, no. That was five years ago. Stiff sometimes, in the damp. But that’s all.’ He grew quiet. ‘I was stupid and nearly got my sons killed. It was like that guy gave me a second chance. I don’t really think I deserved it. But there he was.’
She lowered her hand on his arm and pressed. She wanted so badly to kiss him but, with some effort, refrained. They returned to the wine and both fell silent.
Daniel signed the check and, at her suggestion, they divided up the files. They would spend the remaining hours of the evening, until exhaustion struck, looking for any leads to cash that Charles Prescott might have hidden. They walked to the elevators. When they exited the car he accompanied her to her door.
She hugged him. ‘Daniel, I—’
‘Don’t know how to thank me?’
Her response was to grip him harder and surrender to sobbing.
‘She’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘Your daughter’ll be all right.’
Gabriela wiped her eyes and, stepping away, breathed deeply. Controlled herself.
A few seconds passed; they remained immobile, listening to voices laughing a few rooms away, a TV rumbling with an action flick.
She opened her door and stepped inside, turned back to him. Daniel eased closer.
Would he kiss her? she wondered.
She wondered too how she would respond.
But instead he offered the most chaste of embraces, murmured, ‘Good night,’ and, holding his stack of folders, he stepped back into the hall. The door swung shut and she was alone.
