Hands were shaken. Sam was tanned, balding and had a craggy face, quick eyes. Andrew, pocketing the keys to the apartment, was in his mid-sixties. He had thick white hair, streaked with black strands, swept back and razor-parted on the side. Businessman’s hair. Politician’s hair. Andrew was leaner than Sam and Daniel and not particularly muscular. No more than five-nine. But Gabriela’s impression, an immediate one, was that he was more imposing than the others. And not because of the age.
A natural-born boss...
Daniel said, “These are the people I was telling you about. I’m a client of theirs. Have been for years.”
Gabriela and Daniel sat down on the decades-old couch, which released a more intense version of the musty odor she’d tried to eradicate from the apartment with the kitchen trick not long before.
Funerals, she thought. Funerals...
Daniel poured some more of the red wine. He lifted the bottle to her again. She declined. Andrew and Sam both took glasses. They sipped.
“Daniel was telling us about the situation,” Andrew said. His voice was comforting, baritone.
She said with a frantic slope to her voice, “I don’t know what to do! It’s a nightmare. The deadline’s in two hours! Joseph said I have until six and no extensions this time. After that...” She inhaled, exhaled hard.
The men seemed troubled by these stirrings of hysteria, as if not sure how to reassure her. Finally Andrew Faraday said, “Well, we have some thoughts.”
Sam deferred with his eyes to Andrew. He was secondary or tertiary in hierarchy, she saw at once. She assessed he was dependable and loyal.
Daniel eased against Gabriela on the couch and she felt the warmth of his thigh against hers. He gripped her arm briefly with his long fingers. And she felt the strength she’d noted earlier.
“May I call you Gabriela?” The question was from Andrew. He seemed the sort who would ask permission. Proper, old-school.
“Sure, yes.” She smoothed frazzled hair. Then stopped her busy hands.
Andrew continued, “First, so I can understand, Gabriela: Just to get the facts. This man who’s kidnapped your daughter — Joseph, you were saying. That’s his name, right?”
“Yes.”
“He wants the document Daniel was telling me about. The October List?”
She nodded.
Andrew took in her hollow eyes. “And Daniel said you don’t know what it means.”
She shrugged. “Names and addresses. Maybe criminals. All we really know is that people are willing to kill for it.”
Andrew said, “And no idea what the word refers to, ‘October’?”
Gabriela glanced to Daniel, who offered, “It could be something that happened in October, in the past: a meeting, an event. Or,” he added darkly, “it’s something that’s going to happen — next month. Given what we’ve heard, it might be something pretty bad. But, on the other hand, it could be nothing more than a name. A company, even a person. Or maybe a code. Number ten — the tenth month.”
“Or,” Gabriela said, “Daniel was considering anagrams.”
“You can find some interesting words in ‘October.’ ‘Reboot,’ ‘boot,’ ‘core,’ ‘rob.’ But out of context, we just don’t know.”
“And there’s this man named Gunther. But no clue how he figures in.”
Andrew nodded, considering this. He leaned back and ran a single index finger through his hair. Gabriela now examined the newcomers’ clothing: The men were in suits — coiffed Andrew’s was dark blue, balding Sam’s black, both conservative and expensive as hell. Dress shirts, blue and white respectively. No ties. Bruno Magli or Ferragamo shoes. The clothing and accessories were, as Gabriela’s boss would say, “primo.”
She said to them evenly, “I know I should turn it in.”
“Turn it in?”
“If I had the courage, I would. I’d give it to the police, the FBI. They’d know what it means. That’s the only moral thing to do. But I can’t. The list is the only bargaining chip I have to save Sarah.” Her voice caught. “I feel awful, but I have to give it to Joseph. I don’t have any choice.”
Daniel said firmly, “You didn’t make this mess. Charles Prescott did.”
Andrew asked, “Charles Prescott. Your boss, right?”
“Former boss now,” she muttered. And inhaled hard, coughed. “Sarah.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” Sam said, his first words since their greeting. There was a familiarity about him — the taut muscular physique, the casual angle at which he stood, calm eyes. Then Gabriela realized, with a shock, yes, the Professor! Though not familiar in life; at the funeral home, as he lay in the silk bedding of the coffin. And, of course, observed through the lens of tears — both then and now.
Andrew said, “Beautiful name indeed. Now, Daniel was telling me Joseph wants not only the list but some money too?”
Gabriela touched her fingers to her eyes. They came away damp. “That’s right. A fee he paid to Charles.” She inhaled deeply and said, “But I don’t have that kind of money, a half million, even if I mortgaged my co-op. I...” She fell silent.
Daniel turned his blue eyes her way, reassuringly. Sotto voce: “It’ll be okay, Mac.” The nickname was comforting too. Pressure of knee against knee, thigh against thigh, the pressure of fingers on her arm again. His hand retreated; his leg did not. She felt the strength and warmth of persistent muscle.
“So,” Andrew mused, “Joseph wants the list and he wants money.” His illustrious face grew coy. “Think about it, though: He’s taking a huge risk, possibly going to prison for the rest of his life, getting shot by hostage rescue teams. That tells us there’s more at work here than greed.”
“There is?”
Daniel filled in, “Joseph’s desperate. He may seem confident. But he’s scared. I’d guess he owes money to someone. Or he has to work off some other debt. A significant debt. Somebody’s got major leverage on him — to pay off something. Or maybe to deliver the list.”
“And that’s good,” Andrew offered.
“Good?” Gabriela asked.
Daniel explained, “It’s always better to negotiate with desperate people.”
“He didn’t act desperate,” she said darkly. “He seemed pretty damn confident to me.”
“You’ve got the list?” Andrew asked.
“Not with us. It’s safe, though. A friend of mine, Frank, has it in his apartment.”
Sam asked, “And you trust Frank?”
“He’s a little odd. But, yes, he’s dependable... when it comes to me.” Her eyes avoided Daniel’s. “But I’m not sure where this is going. You said ‘negotiate.’ I just want to give him what he’s asking for and get my daughter back. That’s all.”
After a moment Andrew said, “Well, Gabriela, I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that.”
“Why not?”
“Did Daniel tell you what Sam and I do?”
“No.”
“I have an insurance company. Our specialty is writing high-risk policies. If you want to build a factory in a known hot spot — say, a transitional country like Libya or Myanmar — we’ll underwrite your key executives and the facilities. One of our big moneymakers is kidnap coverage. When a businessman is abducted in a foreign country sometimes his company or family members go to the police. But sometimes — when they can’t or it’s too risky to involve the authorities — they rely on companies like mine to negotiate a release and pay the ransom.
“And that’s what I’m going to do with Joseph. Make sure he gets what he wants but under conditions that guarantee Sarah will be released unharmed.”
“You... you’d do that?”
Andrew smiled. “It’s all in a day’s work for me. And, as odd as it sounds, it’s really just like any other transaction. Kidnapping or bank loan or an acquisition or a joint venture, there’s not a lot of difference when it comes down to consummating the deal. You always pay in installments. Never everything up front. If you were to give Joseph what he wants right away, then he has no incentive to... keep anyone alive.”