The October List

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.’
    She fished in her purse and handed him four twenties.
    ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that.’ He shook his head.
    ‘No, no, I’m insisting.’
    ‘Well, gracias .’ He reluctantly pocketed the cash.
    ‘ Nada . If he’s not there just leave the package with the doorman.’
    Gabriela and Daniel headed to the stairwell again. She caught his eye, in which she detected a gaze of wry humor. ‘Frank’s only sort of a boyfriend. Really.’
    ‘Hey,’ he offered, ‘how can I be jealous of somebody you’re calling “the complication”? If you’d said “stud” or “lover boy,” well, that’d be a different story.’
    She flung her arms around him and kissed his neck. They fled down the stairs, exiting into the alley behind the building.

CHAPTER
14
     

2:50 p.m., Saturday
25 minutes earlier
     

 

 
     
    Turtle Bay, that portion of east Manhattan near the United Nations, was once one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. In the late 1800s the area was littered with unregulated businesses –