The October List

too.’
    ‘A MacGuffin,’ Joseph said.
    ‘What’s that?’ Peter Karpankov asked.
    Gabriela said, ‘Hitchcock.’ She was surprised Joseph knew the term. Not because he seemed ignorant – just the opposite – but he was only in his forties and the film director had coined the term more than a half century ago. She explained to Peter Karpankov, ‘A MacGuffin’s a thing, an object that everybody’s chasing after in a suspense movie. The treasure of Sierra Madre, the lost ark, the NOC list of secret agents. Doesn’t matter that it doesn’t even exist. It’s what drives the story forward. I’ll come up with some bomb plot or something equally ridiculous. Blow up a bank. Or take out the stock market for a few hours. The implication is that the people on the list stand to make a fortune when that happens. Short selling stock maybe.’
    Joseph said, ‘What about we call this list something mysterious? Give it a name.’
    Karpankov suggested, ‘I have an idea. How about the October List?’
    Gabriela nodded. ‘Good, I like it. But why that?’
    ‘The wife and I went to the Hofbrau last night, Third Avenue. Thursday’s Oktoberfest night. The best Wiener Schnitzel and Sauerbraten in the city. Oktoberfest … October List. Just occurred to me.’
    ‘Perfect. It’s mid September; I’ll drop clues that whatever’s going to happen’ll happen next month. Now, Joseph, you want this mysterious list. And some money too. Reardon stole four hundred thousand from Peter. But let’s go for five – interest payment.’
    The Russian nodded.
    ‘How will you get the cash from them?’ Joseph asked.
    She considered this for a moment. ‘Ah, Reardon’ll come up with it for me to pay as the ransom. He’ll hit one of his accounts and cough up the money. Of course, what he’ll really use it for is to pay you – as an incentive to do business with them. Only you can tell them how to best use the October List. They’ll need you for that.’
    Joseph too had a thought. ‘Let’s start out with four hundred thousand, but to add believability, maybe you could miss a deadline and I up the ante to five hundred thousand.’
    ‘Yes, I like that.’ Her eyes shone. ‘And when I miss that deadline, you send me something of my daughter’s to show you mean business.’ She happened to glance down at her fingernails, which were dark red. ‘Maybe … I know, a bloody finger.’
    ‘What?’ Karpankov blurted.
    She gave a smile. ‘Just from a mannequin or a doll. Get some fake blood. Or buy a bloody steak.’
    Joseph nodded, as if this were the most logical idea in the world.
    She continued to him, ‘We’ll play it out till Sunday night. You pick a target zone – a safe house somewhere – and arrange to meet them. When they show up, you kill them.’
    Joseph considered this. ‘I’ve got a warehouse in SoHo I’m just about finished with. I’ll use that. They think I’ve kidnapped your daughter, right? The place has a room in the back. I’ll put on some kids’ videos in there. When they go to check it out and open the door, I’ll take care of them from behind.’ Then he frowned. ‘But what’ll you tell your captain? If it’s an undercover sting, won’t they be expecting to get evidence, from a wire or something?’
    It was a good point but she’d thought that through. ‘I’ll tell them that you – my CI – went rogue, killed Reardon and the others and stole the money. Then vanished. Nobody trusts CIs anyway. It won’t look too great – a failed operation – but the fact is, my captain won’t be very pissed off. After Reardon’s dead, we’ll search his houses and office; we should be able to close a half-dozen cases he and his crew were behind. And they’ll’ve saved the expense of trial.’
    ‘Brilliant, Gabriela,’ Karpankov said reverently.
    Tap, tap.
    Gabriela added a lengthy row to the shawl she was knitting. She had another thought. ‘You know, Peter, it would be helpful if it looked like there was someone else after me. It’ll draw Reardon into the set more if he feels there’s another player after the October List too. Make it seem that much more valuable. Any thoughts?’
    Now Karpankov, sitting back, was the one scanning the ceiling with his gray-and-gray eyes. ‘Would it make sense if this person died?’
    ‘Interesting idea,’ she replied. ‘It could work. Why?’
    ‘I’m aware of something.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘There’s someone … this piss-ant from Brooklyn. Thinks he’s the