The October List (15 page)

Daniel said, ‘This’s been a tough time for her. Couldn’t you just give her a break?’

Kepler seemed to be practicing his skills at ignoring people. He looked Daniel up and down with what seemed to be contempt, then moved away, pulled out his cell phone and made and received several calls.

Surani stood nearby, less hostile, but at attention as if to grab them if they tried to escape.

She glanced at her watch. Daniel too looked down at it. ‘The time,’ she whispered. ‘The deadline …’ Her jaw was trembling. ‘We have to get those files in my apartment!’

The deadline was forty-five minutes away.

‘We really have to go!’

Kepler disconnected. ‘Glad we ran into you,’ he said, not sounding particularly glad at all. He nodded to his phone. ‘The FBI’s just found out something else. Those clients I was telling you about earlier today? A number of them are in the financial services area – the U.S., Europe and the Far East. Brazil, too. A lot of stock and bond traders. But at least one was a known arms dealer, specializing in explosives and chemical weapons. He’s the only one we’ve been able to identify. Gunther. Probably that European guy you mentioned, the one from St Thomas. Thanks for that by the way. Don’t know the first name. From Frankfurt originally. We think he has a safe house somewhere on the Upper East Side. That name ring any bells?’

‘No. Charles never had a client named Gunther.’

‘Well, he did,’ Kepler snapped. ‘I just told you that.’

‘What I mean is I never heard of him.’

Suddenly Kepler glanced down at her purse and saw the corner of an envelope protruding. ‘What’s that?’

She eased away. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing? I’ll bet it’s more than nothing.’

‘Just personal things.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not answering that. If you want ’em, get a fucking warrant.’

Kepler looked at Surani and said, ‘What’d we learn in detective school?’

His partner said, ‘Which part?’

‘About when there’s been suspicion of a felony – say, breaking and entering.’

‘Oh, breaking and entering an office building?’

‘Yeah, exactly. That means that we can search a suspect without a warrant, right? The Constitution lets us do that.’

Surani said, ‘It
encourages
us to do that.’

‘Don’tcha just love that Constitution?’ Kepler mused, ripping the bag from her hands and lifting out the envelope.

CHAPTER
15

3:15 p.m., Saturday
1 hour, 35 minutes earlier

Moving cautiously, the couple continued down the damp, tree-lined street of Midtown in silence. Cautious of necessity. They knew the police had to be watching the Prescott office.

Gabriela eyed cars speeding along the cross street. Dark cars, pale cars, taxis, limos, trucks. Vehicles, as much as pedestrians, were part of the tapestry of Manhattan. But she noted nothing out of the ordinary, nobody paying particular attention to them.

Though seeing the unmarked police car at the curb, they paused near a ginkgo tree, encircled by a low, wrought-iron fence to keep marking dogs from the trunk. ‘That’s it,’ she whispered, indicating a six-story office building about fifty feet east, on the same side of the street where they stood. On a sign beside the front door a half-dozen businesses were listed – therapists, a chiropractor, a graphic design company.

At the top:
Prescott Investments, LLC
.

‘How’re you holding up?’ Daniel asked.

‘I’m fine.’ Dismissing the question.

Gabriela recalled that when she was a teen the Professor often comforted her by asking the very same or a similar question. ‘You okay?’ ‘All right?’ He’d sit close and look her over. She could smell tobacco and aftershave. She’d initially reply that she was fine, in this same tone as now, but he’d smile and persist. And he’d finally work out of her that she was sad or angry or stung about some incident at school or because somebody had laughed at her (even at thirteen she was tall and skinny as a post) or simply because the day was cold and overcast.

Gabriela had had mood problems all her life.

The Professor could usually trick the sadness away, for a time at least.

This memory she put away. With difficulty.

‘There she is,’ Gabriela said, nodding in the direction of her attractive Latina co-worker, Elena Rodriguez, across the street. The woman was walking toward the building from the opposite direction, her eyes down, face grim.

Elena Rodriguez looked up and saw them, then started across the street. Her gaze swiveled to the unmarked police car parked in front of the office building, manned by a single officer. She hesitated in the street, as if trying to avoid being seen, and stepped back. When a truck passed, she hurried across after it – straight toward an oncoming taxi. There came a wrenching scream and the screech of tires like a bird of prey’s cry, followed by a loud thud. Daniel’s and Gabriela’s view was obscured but an instant later they saw Elena spiral to the curb.

‘God,’ Daniel whispered.

Immediately the officer sitting in the police car leapt out and ran to her aid. The cop looked around once then bent down toward the woman and pulled out his radio. The cabbie raced up, gesturing frantically with his hands.

‘Jesus,’ Daniel muttered. ‘Is she all right?’

It did look bad, Gabriela realized, but she whispered, ‘We can’t worry about her. Let’s go.’

She gripped Daniel’s arm and pulled him forward. Taking her keys from her pocket, she hurried to the office building. As the cop was bending down over Elena and making a call they stepped into the lobby. Gabriela slipped the key into the inner door lock and in less than a minute they were on the second floor, at the door marked with another brass plaque:
Prescott Investments, LLC
.

The door was sealed with a yellow adhesive marker.
Crime Scene Do Not Enter
. The phone number to call in case one wished to access the office was at the bottom.

Daniel hesitated but Gabriela opened the door of the office and pushed inside, tearing the NYPD notice neatly in half with a loud, ripping sound.

Closing the door after them, she stopped, blinking, and looked around. ‘My God, they took everything! The computers, shredders, hard drives, file cabinets, credenzas. They must’ve brought moving trucks!’

Daniel too examined the rooms, then glanced from the window. ‘I can’t tell how Elena is. The trees are blocking the view. I think she’s still on the ground.’

‘We can’t worry about her. We have to search! The money and the October List. We need them!’

Her head swiveled as she regarded what few objects were inside. Some bad artwork, photographs and diplomas and certificates up on the walls. Also, vases of fake flowers, office supplies, cups, mugs, wilted flowers, pictures of family, bottles of wine, boxes of coffee and snacks. On two coffee tables were professional journals, recent editions of the
New York Times
and
Wall Street Journal
, several books:
Debt Markets in BRIC Countries
,
Accounting Procedures
and
Tax Treatment of Oil and Gas Leasing Partnerships
.

In a corner were some storage boxes, missing lids but filled with papers.

Gabriela dropped to her knees and prowled through the cartons.

‘Helpful?’ Daniel asked as he began looking through drawers, which all appeared to be empty, except for office supplies.

She read through them quickly. ‘No. These’re just real estate records about the building. Nothing to do with Charles’s business.’

She began rifling drawers and looking through closets while Daniel was prying up carpet and knocking on walls, searching, apparently, for hidden compartments.

A man’s approach, Gabriela thought. Not necessarily a bad one.

They continued the search. But twenty minutes later Gabriela stood, stiffly, and looked around. She said in despair, ‘Nothing.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. Then she looked mournfully at the clock on the wall. ‘He kept his own watch fast, ten minutes, Charles did, so he’d never be late, never miss an appointment or conference call.’ Her eyes still on the timepiece, she said, ‘We have two hours. Oh, Sarah.’ She choked a sob. ‘What’re we going to do?’

Daniel peered out the window again, carefully. ‘The cop’s on the radio, looking at the building. He seems suspicious. Oh, hell.’

‘What?’

‘Somebody just came out of the building. Some woman. The cop called her over.’ Daniel stepped back fast. ‘He’s looking up again. I think he’s suspicious. We better get out.’

Which was when Gabriela cocked her head. ‘Oil and gas.’

‘What?’

She pointed to the reception area coffee table. ‘That book?’

It was a textbook, thick and intimidating.
Tax Treatment of Oil and Gas Leasing Partnerships
.

She asked, ‘We’ve never done any of that kind of work.’ She picked up the tome. Flipped through it. ‘Daniel, look.’ The first hundred pages were dense text about accounting and tax procedures. In the middle, though, were a dozen pages bound into the book that had nothing to do with partnerships.

On the top of the first page were the words:
October List.

Gabriela laughed. ‘Yes!’

‘He hid it in plain sight.’

‘Smart of him. The list’s actually bound in, like any other pages, so it doesn’t bulge suspiciously. No one would think twice about it; and there wasn’t much chance of anyone stealing a boring textbook on leases.’

Gabriela carefully tore the list out. ‘Let’s copy it.’ She looked around. ‘Wait. The copier’s gone. The police took it. Why?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Maybe the memory chip. Fingerprints, I don’t know.’

Gabriela glanced out the window again. ‘Shit.’ She stepped aside fast. ‘Stay back.’

‘What? The police?’

‘No. Somebody else. I saw a man in the alley across the street, looking up at the window. It might’ve been Joseph. A dark coat, like his. I couldn’t really tell.’

‘How could he’ve followed us here? Why would he want to?’

‘He said he’d be checking out if we went to the cops.’ Gabriela glanced carefully out the window. ‘I don’t see anyone. I’m probably being paranoid.’

Daniel said, ‘Maybe not. We don’t exactly know what’s in the list, but something tells me Joseph won’t be the only one who wants it.’

She looked again out the window. ‘The cop? He’s on his radio. He knows something’s up.’

‘We have to get out of here.’

‘This is the only copy of the list. We can’t risk Joseph or the police or whoever’s out there’ – a nod at the street – ‘stealing it. It’s my only bargaining chip to get Sarah back.’

She examined the room fast and spotted on a credenza the bottles of wine. ‘Gifts from clients,’ she said. She nodded at a dark green box of Dom Pérignon champagne. ‘Could you open that up?’

Daniel undid the clasp and lifted the top. She folded the pages of the October List very tightly and, when he lifted the bottle, slipped them under it. He sealed the box back up and put it into a plastic bag. With a black marker she wrote a note on a Post-it and added that to the bag.

‘What are you doing with it?’ Daniel asked.

‘I’m going to have it delivered to my friend Frank.’

‘Frank Walsh, Mr Complication,’ Daniel said with a dry smile.

‘Yeah. But a trustworthy complication.’ She glanced at the window. ‘What’s the cop doing?’

Looking out, Daniel reported, ‘Still on the radio, but he’s glancing at the windows here. He suspects. Definitely.’

Gabriela returned to the desk on which the nameplate read
E. Rodriguez
. She took a blank letter-sized envelope and into it stuffed a dozen pieces of paper from her purse – receipts, discount cards, a few bills. She shoved the envelope into the Coach and left a corner protruding.

‘Insurance policy,’ she said. ‘Just in case. Now let’s get out of here.’

With Daniel carrying the champagne, they left the office and she closed the door. The sound of the elevator on the move filled the hallway. She looked around and nodded to the stairs. They climbed to the third floor, where they found a slim Latino man pushing a mop. ‘Rafael!’

‘Gabriela! I heard about Mr Prescott. It’s not true, you think?’

‘I’m sure it isn’t. It has to be a big mistake.’

‘I’m praying for him. My wife too.’

‘Thank you, Rafael. This is Daniel.’

The men shook hands and then Gabriela asked, ‘Could you do me a big favor, please?’

‘Sure. What do you need?’

She took the bag containing the champagne and handed it to Rafael. ‘I have to talk to lawyers now and get records together. I was supposed to take this to a friend of mine today, but I can’t make it. It’s real important to him. Can you please drop this off at his building in the Village?’

‘Sure, sure, I do that.’

‘He’s at Three Eighty Greenwich Street. It’s near Bethune. His name’s Frank Walsh.’ She jotted the address and name. He pocketed the slip of paper.

‘Okay.’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Rafael.’