He didn’t care how this odd-duck Benedict had access to his magical database or where it came from or how it was even possible. A moral philosopher, he wasn’t. He only cared about Desert Life, and now he had an edge that none of his competitors could ever match. He had paid Benedict $5 million out of his own pocket to avoid his auditors picking up a corporate transaction and asking questions. He already had enough worries about Bert’s hedge fund adventure.
But it was money well spent. The value of his personal stock holdings had appreciated by $10 million, a damned good return on investment in one month! He would keep his own counsel on the Benedict business. No one knew, even Bert. It was too bizarre and too dangerous. He had enough trouble explaining to his head of underwriting why he needed to receive a daily nationwide list of all new life insurance applicants.
Bert saw him eating alone and came by grinning and wagging a finger. “I know your secret, Nelson!”
That startled the older man. “What are you talking about?” he asked sternly.
“You’re ditching us this afternoon and playing golf.”
Elder exhaled and smiled. “How’d you know?”
“I know everything around here,” the CFO boasted.
“Not everything. I’ve got a couple of things up my sleeves.”
“You got my bonus up there too?”
“You keep the high yields coming and you’ll be buying an island in a couple of years. Want to join me for breakfast?”
“Can’t. Budget meeting. Who’re you playing with?”
“It’s a charity thing over at the Wynn. I don’t even know who’s in my four.”
“Well, enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
Elder winked at him. “You’re right. I do.”
Nancy couldn’t concentrate on the bank robbery file. She turned a page only to realize that none of it registered and she had to go back and read it again. She had a meeting with John Mueller later in the morning, and he was expecting some kind of briefing. Every few minutes she compulsively opened the browser and searched the Web for new articles on Will, but the same AP story was being recycled around the world. Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer.
Sue Sanchez saw her in the hall and hailed her from a distance. Sue was among the last people Nancy wanted to see but she couldn’t very well pretend she hadn’t noticed her.
The strain on Sue’s face was remarkable. The corner of her left eye was twitching and there was a quaver in her voice. “Nancy,” she said, drawing so close it made her uncomfortable. “Has he tried to contact you?”
Nancy made sure her handbag was closed and zippered. “You asked me last night. The answer’s still no.”
“I have to ask. He was your partner. Partners get close.” The statement made Nancy nervous, and Sue picked up on it and backtracked. “I don’t mean close in that way. You know, bonding, friendship.”
“He hasn’t called or e-mailed. Besides, you’d know if he had,” she blurted out.
“I haven’t authorized a tap on him or you!” Sue insisted. “If we were doing a tap I’d be aware of it. I’m his superior!”
“Sue, I know a lot less than you do about what’s going on, but would you really be shocked if some other agencies were calling the shots?”
Sue looked hurt and defensive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nancy shrugged, and Sue recovered her composure. “Where are you going?”
“To the drugstore. Need anything?” Nancy said, moving toward the elevator bank.
“No. I’m fine.” She didn’t sound convincing.
Nancy walked five blocks before reaching into her bag for the prepaid phone. She checked one more time for tags and punched the number.
He picked up on the second ring. “Joe’s Tacos.”
“Sounds appetizing,” she said.
“I’m glad you called.” He sounded bone weary. “I was getting lonely.”
“Where are you?”
“Someplace as flat as a pool table.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Sign says Indiana.”
“You didn’t go all night, did you?”
“I believe I did.”
“You’ve got to get some sleep!”
“Uh-huh.”
“When?”
“I’m looking for a place as we speak. Did you talk to Laura?”
“I wanted to see how you were first.”
“Tell her I’m fine. Tell her not to be worried.”
“She’ll be worried. I’m worried.”
“What’s going on in the office?”
“Sue looks like shit. Everyone’s got their doors closed.”
“I heard about me on the radio all night. They’re playing this large.”
“If they’ve got a dragnet out on you, what are they doing with Shackleton?”
“I guess the chances of finding him with his feet up on his porch aren’t too high.”
“What then?”
“I’m going to use my years of skills and resourcefulness.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going to wing it.” He went quiet and then said, “You know, I was thinking.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“What about me?”
There was another long pause, the whooshing sound of an eighteen-wheeler passing. “I think I’m in love with you.”
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she was still in lower Manhattan. “Come on, Will, why are you saying something like that? Sleep deprivation?”
“Nope. I mean it.”
“Please find a motel and get some sleep.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“No. I think I might love you too.”
Greg Davis was waiting for the kettle to boil. His relationship with Laura Piper was only a year and a half old and they were facing their first significant crisis as a couple. He wanted to step up to the plate and be a great guy and a supportive boyfriend, and in his family you dealt with a crisis by brewing tea.
Their apartment was tiny, with minimal light and no views, but they’d rather have a garret in Georgetown than a nicer place in a soulless suburb. She had finally fallen asleep at 2:00 A.M., but as soon as she awoke, she turned the TV back on, saw the crawl on the screen informing that her father remained at large and began crying again.
“Do you want regular or herbal?” he called out.
He heard sobs. “Herbal.”
He brought her a cup and sat beside her on the bed.
“I tried calling him again,” she said weakly.
“Home and cell?”
“Voice mail.” He was still in his boxers. “You’ll be late,” she said.
“I’m calling in.”
“Why?”
“To stay with you. I’m not leaving you alone.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and his shoulder got wet from her tears. “Why are you so good to me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
His cell phone began to vibrate and move on the bed table. He lunged for it before it fell off the edge. It read: UNKNOWN CALLER.
A woman was asking for him.
“This is Greg.”
“It’s Nancy Lipinski, Greg. We met at Will’s apartment.”
“Jesus! Nancy! Hello!” He whispered to Laura, “Your dad’s partner,” and she sat bolt upright. “How’d you get my number?”
“I work for the FBI, Greg.”
“Yeah. I see that,” he said. “Are you calling about Will?”
“Yes. Is Laura there?”
“She is. Why’d you call me?”
“Laura’s phones could be tapped.”
“Christ, what did Will do?”
“Am I talking to his daughter’s boyfriend or a journalist?” Nancy asked.
He hesitated then looked at Laura’s pleading eyes. “Her boyfriend.”
“He’s in a lot of trouble but he didn’t do anything wrong. We got too close to something and he’s not backing down. I need you to promise me you’ll keep this confidential.”
“Okay,” he assured her, “you’re off the record.”
“Put Laura on. He wants her to know he’s all right.”
The Realtor was a platinum blonde entering her Botox years. She talked a mile a minute and bonded with Kerry in an instant. The two of them were yapping away in the front of the big Mercedes while Mark sat in the back, anesthetized, his legs straddling his briefcase.