“Aren’t you going to check inside first?” Jamie asked.
“Already done by our local people. They’ve given us the go-ahead.” She held up her cell phone. “These work.”
Jamie got out of the vehicle and, braced by Ida and Lane, was marched into the bookstore.
An announcement came over a loudspeaker system. “Good evening, book lovers,” a woman’s voice said. “New York Times Pulitzer Prize — winning reporter Jamie Cox is about to speak about her new book, Scandalous, in our audience area. Please feel free to join us there now.”
Jamie saw a few people emerge from the stacks and wander over to where she was being directed. They were getting subtle, but close inspection by the local security people. While she was being miked by her publicist, the bookstore manager gave a short introduction, then remarked that questions would be taken at the end of the talk. She turned the podium over to Jamie.
“Good evening,” Jamie said to the crowd. “I thought you’d like to know that, earlier today, at LaGuardia Airport, two men entered the ladies’ room I was using, pulled guns, and were disarmed by my security guards. They fled on foot and have not yet been found. I do hope that none of you are armed, but if you are, you should know that women with guns are watching you.”
This got a laugh from the audience and seemed to relax them.
Jamie spoke for fifteen minutes about her book and the events recounted in it, then took questions for another fifteen minutes. She then sat at a table while the audience lined up to have their books signed.
Later, she asked the bookstore manager how they had done.
“Very well,” the woman replied, “a hundred and twenty-two sales, much better than average.”
Shortly afterward, she was hustled into the SUV and driven back to the St. Regis, where she had dinner in her suite with her publicist and a publisher’s representative.
“Tomorrow night,” Jamie said to Lane later, “do you think I could have dinner in the hotel restaurant? I’d feel less like a caged animal.”
“Tomorrow night we’re in Palm Beach, where you’re speaking to an arts society, and you’re staying at the Brazilian Court. If everything is quiet, you can dine in the restaurant, which is very good.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jamie replied, then got ready for bed.
Stone, Dino, and Viv had dinner at Patroon.
“What do you have on the two guys at LaGuardia?” Stone asked Dino.
“They had an escape route planned, so we didn’t get them. We got their weapons, though, from the trash receptacle in the ladies’ room.”
“Any prints?”
“Nothing. They had apparently handled the weapons only when wearing latex gloves. We found some talc residue that’s used to make the gloves easier to pull on.”
“Were they Italian?”
“Why do you ask?” Dino said.
“Because the Thomases are really the Tommassinis.”
“The descriptions from witnesses were generic — nothing about ethnic appearance. One of the witnesses thought one of the shooters was a woman.”
“So much for eyewitnesses,” Stone said. “Anything unusual about the weapons?”
“Both were Glocks with homemade silencers, apparently never fired. They were originally sold at a gun shop in Virginia last year.”
“How about the hit on Sherry?”
“We found a single shell casing behind the parapet on a house across the street. A.22 long rifle, chosen for a head shot.”
“So everybody’s a pro.”
“People like the Thomases don’t hire their assassins at the unemployment office. Like you say, everybody’s a pro.”
Viv spoke up. “All went smoothly for Jamie in Atlanta.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said. “The way you’ve arranged the signing audiences is very good.”
“Thank you. I wish we’d started her out at Teterboro, instead of LaGuardia. That was my mistake; I didn’t believe they would try it.”
“How about other people at the Times? Any threats?”
“All the principals are under guard. The computer kid, Huey, vanished. Apparently he went underground.”
“I’ll bet he’s in his new apartment, which is under construction.”
Viv looked at him, surprised. “Nobody at the Times told us about that.”
“Probably because he didn’t tell anybody at the Times about it.”
“Then we’re guarding what must be his old apartment.”
Stone wrote the new address down and gave it to her. “Be discreet,” he said. “The kid would probably rather not know your people are there.”
Annie Lee awoke, naked, in the king-sized bed in Ari’s suite. He was sitting at his computer in his pajamas. She reflected on their night together. Having sex with someone who didn’t like to be touched was a new experience for her. Still, if he had been awkward, he had also been enthusiastic, once they started. She was not all that experienced herself, having a strict father.
She got up, put on a robe, then went and stood behind him.
“William called,” Ari said. “He had the results of some private, overnight polling: it wasn’t a big sample, but it shows Box with a six-point lead over the incumbent Republican congressman, who won the seat last time by twenty-two points.”
“Wow, that’s progress!” Annie said.
He turned to face her and, to her surprise, put his hands on her hips. “What did you think about the sex last night?” he asked. “It was my first time, so I don’t have anything to compare it to.”
“I’ve only had sex twice before,” she said, “so I’m not way ahead of you.”
“What did you think, compared to the other two?”
“The other one,” she said. “Twice.”
“Okay.”
“I thought it was very, very good,” she said. “It will only get better, as we become accustomed to each other. I warn you, you are now subject to being murdered by my father, should he ever suspect us of this.”
He pushed her back and looked into her face. “Was that a joke?” he asked. “I’m never sure when you’re joking.”
“It wasn’t entirely a joke,” she replied.
“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“It means that, should we ever find ourselves in the company of my father, you should not touch me or speak to me affectionately or do anything else that might allow him to think for a moment that we have had sex.”
“I understand that,” Ari said. “Maybe you should just keep me away from him.”
“Good advice,” she said.
36
Elise Grant went into Henry Thomas’s office without knocking, as she had been instructed to do, and set his mail on his desk. He was meeting with his grandson, Hank, and Rance Damien. They immediately switched to a Sicilian dialect, which they did not know she understood — her mother being Sicilian. She had failed to note that language skill on her employment application and was not sorry. She had heard some pretty good stuff.
“Sit down for a moment, Elise,” Henry said in English. “I want you to take a letter for me when we’re done.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, taking a chair against the wall.
They switched back to Sicilian. “I understand everything went wrong yesterday,” Henry said. “Rance?”
Damien shifted in his chair. “Our people did not realize that Cox had security that would follow her into the ladies’ room,” he said. “They stuck to the plan and got away, but left their weapons, which were clean in every respect. We had more luck with the girl, Sherry.”
Elise wanted to pee in her pants, but she held on.