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‘You think she can help?’

‘Not with the murder investigation, not directly. She didn’t even know that Mynka was dead.’

‘What about indirectly?’

‘Once I put this business with Sister Kassia behind me, I’m going to take a shot at one of the Portolas. If I pick the wrong one, I’m in big trouble. So, the more I know about them, the better.’ I went on to describe the family, each of them, in detail. ‘Margaret’s out of the question,’ I concluded. ‘She’ll lawyer up right away. It’s between the two kids.’

‘Do you think Margaret killed Mynka?’

‘It’s too early for that. Plus, right now, I’m trying to concentrate on the deal I made with Sister Kassia and Father Stan.’

‘Actually, that’s why I called. I can’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday.’

I glanced through the window, at a wall of brick across the way. I told myself not to be distracted, no matter what came next. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Corbin. You plan to wait until Saturday night, when the women and their children are together, then force an entry in order to pull them out.’

‘If there’s another option that accounts for them, I don’t know it.’

‘That’s not the point.’ Adele gave it a few beats, then said, ‘The point is that you’re going in alone. And don’t deny it.’

‘Well, I definitely deny it. I’m not going in alone. I’m going in with Sister Kassia.’

Adele laughed, in spite of herself. ‘That’s good. That’s you. But what about Hansen?’

‘First, I promised to keep the priest’s name out of it. Second, I have no idea what Bill Sarney will do if he gets his hands on those women before I do.’ I stopped for a moment as I collected my thoughts. ‘Look, I’m assuming that Aslan’s presence in this country, if it ever becomes public knowledge, would embarrass somebody high up on the food chain. But I don’t know why or who, and I don’t ever expect to know. This does not bother me, Adele. I can live with it. But there’s still a question. If I call in Sarney and Hansen, whose interests will they represent? A bunch of illegal immigrants and their snot-nosed brats? Or that top-feeder I just mentioned?’

I paused long enough to catch a breath. ‘On the other hand, if I get them away from Aslan and if Sister Kassia supplies them with a lawyer before Sarney knows what’s happening, the potential for negative publicity will force the bosses to cooperate.’

There was nothing more to be said on the subject and Adele remained silent for a moment before returning to her original point. ‘What you’ve said, Corbin, doesn’t affect the bottom line one bit. You plan to go in alone. How do you know that Aslan won’t be waiting for you?’

‘Aslan doesn’t live with his workers. Most of the time, they’re chaperoned by a woman named Zashka Ochirov, who also cares for the children. I’m going to arrange some sort of signal with Tynia — maybe a window up or down — to let me know if there’s anyone in the apartment besides Zashka. And I don’t plan to kick the door open. Tynia will open it when I knock.’

Adele’s tone sharpened. ‘Have you bothered to count the number of things that can go wrong?’

‘I stopped when I ran out of fingers. But, hey, Tynia gave me the address of the apartment where she stayed last weekend. I went there yesterday and spotted Zashka Ochirov. Now, it just so happens that I have witnesses who can put Zashka at Domestic Solutions when Barsakov was killed. That gives me an excuse to detain her, to put her in the box. Adele, Zashka’s a petty con artist. If I was willing to let Tynia and the rest fend for themselves, I could break Zashka in an hour. You hear what I’m saying? If I forget about these women, I can put Aslan behind me in a couple of days without taking any serious risk. Remember, it was you, Sister Kassia and Father Stan who insisted that I protect their interests.’

The outburst surprised both of us. I found myself carrying the phone into the bedroom, too wired to stand still.

‘I’m sorry,’ I finally said.

‘It’s my fault, Corbin. I should be there with you.’

The words smacked into me, opening a hole through which Adele poured. I felt a rush of emotion, a longing deep enough to drown in, as though a floodwall had broken. It was the last thing I needed. I glanced at my watch as I pulled myself together. ‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘I have to meet Sister Kassia. This is a big day for us.’

‘I understand. It’s all right. I only wanted to catch up.’

Sister Kassia and I found seats on a convenient bench in Riverside Park a little after ten. We proceeded to wash down a bag of cheese blintzes with large containers of coffee picked up at a nearby Starbucks. Sister Kassia had prepared the blintzes early that morning and they were incredibly soft and delicate.

‘I thought,’ she told me as she unwrapped them, ‘that we might do better than a bag of stale doughnuts.’

She was right, and I showed my gratitude, once our breakfast was consumed and I’d cleaned my fingers, by reviewing the items I wanted our impending interview with Tynia Cernek to include. Sister Kassia was slated to conduct the interview, which meant she and Tynia would be speaking Polish. The point was to establish trust, to head off any last-minute resistance when I finally came knocking on that door in Astoria.

This time around, I was unable to banish Adele, at least not entirely. She continued to work on me, an itch I couldn’t scratch. The worst part was that the dangers she’d described were very real. Aslan would kill me if he could.

The nun and I were still at it when a stretch limo, a white Mercedes, rolled up to the townhouse across the street. Ten minutes later, the Portola family emerged. Margaret was dressed in a dark suit which she’d complemented with pearls at her throat and ears. Leonard also wore a suit, double-breasted, black and immaculately tailored, over a blood-red shirt. By contrast, David’s olive-green suit fitted him badly and his striped tie was poorly knotted and askew. Dress-up was not his favorite game and he was unable, or unwilling, to fake it.

I rose from the bench as the limo turned onto 82nd Street, draped my bag across my shoulder, finally offered my hand to Sister Kassia. Together, we walked to the door of the townhouse, which opened before I could knock.

I followed the nun inside, past Tynia, who slid the door closed behind us. Tynia was wearing an apron over her blue dress and she wiped her palms across the front, but did not offer her hand. We were standing in a large entrance hall paneled in dark wood. There were side chairs flanking the door leading into the house, with oval seats and backs, and four oil paintings on the wall above the wainscoting. The paintings, all landscapes, were surrounded by enormous gilt frames and seemed vaguely familiar.

Without a word, Tynia led us to a stairway against the northern wall, then down into a basement kitchen. I came last, hanging back when I reached the bottom of the stairs. For a moment, I failed to register any of the kitchen’s details except for one. On the other side of the room, directly across from where I stood, a wooden door rose to the height of my head. The door turned on hinges made of hammered iron and the gap between door and frame was sealed with rubbery gray insulation.

I waited where I was until Tynia and Sister Kassia were seated at a long table, lost in conversation. Then I crossed the room to run the fingers of my right hand over the front of the door. The faint mahogany stain was flaking and the surface felt dry and rough. Around the handle, a black semicircle attested to decades of wear. Setting down my bag, I gave the handle a yank. It released with a satisfying ka-chunk and the door turned effortlessly on its hinges. I was left staring into a room about ten feet deep, with shelves and bins, some open, some covered, to my left and right. The room was narrow, not more than four feet wide, including the bins, and I had to turn my shoulders when I stepped inside.

Instinctively, I reached out to keep the door from shutting, but I needn’t have bothered. Unlike most refrigerator doors, which close by themselves if left ajar, this door was weighted to swing outward. Just as well, because there was no inner latch. If the door shut behind me, I’d have to rely on a red button, labeled EMERGENCY, mounted on the wall.