The October List

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