“Do the Thomases often speak in Sicilian?”
“Yes, whenever they don’t want anyone to know what they’re talking about, like earlier today.”
“And you were there?”
“Yes. Old Mr. Thomas asked me to take a letter after they were done and to sit down and wait, so I heard their entire conversation.”
“What did they talk about?” Stone asked.
“About killing you and Bob and Sherry. Oh, and about trying to kill Ms. Cox, in the ladies’ room.”
“Holy shit,” Dino muttered, the first time he had spoken.
“Yes, that’s pretty much what I thought, too,” Elise said, “but I managed to keep a straight face. It was the first time I heard that Sherry was still alive. She took some time off, and they sent her someplace in Maine, and none of us heard from her again. I thought they had done her in.”
“Is that how you learned that she was in the hospital?”
“That’s exactly how.”
Dino spoke up again, but in Sicilian. “Can you tell me what they said in Sicilian?”
Elise laid out their conversation.
“Thank you, that’s good,” Dino said. “She speaks very good Sicilian, so she won’t have got it wrong. Elise, please repeat what you just said, in English, for the benefit of the uneducated present.”
Elise laughed, then recounted the conversation in English.
“Holy shit,” Jamie said over the phone.
For two hours, they questioned Elise, and she happily told them everything she knew. They broke for dinner, and Dino sat next to her.
“Elise,” he said, “would you keep doing what you’re doing? And report it back to us?”
“You mean, like a spy?” she asked.
“We call it a confidential informant, and you’ll be paid for your efforts.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Dino,” Bob Cantor interjected, “I think it’s better if Elise plants some bugs for us and we record everything. It’s safer for her, and we’ll have a record that she can confirm.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Dino said, “and I don’t hear things like that, unless I have a warrant in my hands.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”
Stone stood also. “I’ll see Dino out,” he said, and they both left the room.
“I have some equipment that will work,” Bob said, undeterred.
“Bob,” Elise said, “they have some experts come in about once a week to sweep the place. Won’t they find your equipment?”
“I’ll set it up so that you can turn the bugs on and off with an app on your iPhone. That way, when you know the sweepers are coming, you can switch them off. They won’t be detected because the equipment is not broadcasting.”
“That sounds good,” she said.
“Also, the bugs will have to be replaced every three days, since that’s as long as the batteries last.”
“Okay,” she said.
“You’ll want to be very sure that you aren’t seen replacing them.”
“I’ll do it at lunch. Almost everybody goes out, but I usually have a sandwich at my desk.”
“Good.”
Stone came back. “I trust that part of the conversation is over,” he said.
“Can I go to see Sherry again?” Elise asked.
“That’s not a good idea,” Stone said. “Every time you go into the hospital, it increases the risk that you’ll be seen there. In a few days, Sherry will be discharged from the hospital, then you can come see her here, getting in the way you did today. That will also give us a chance to debrief you.”
“I understand, and that’s fine,” Elise replied. “Tell me, will I have to testify in court against the Thomases?”
“Eventually,” Stone said. “When that happens, though, they’ll be in jail and won’t be able to hurt you.”
“I don’t think you understand how much reach the Thomases have,” Elise said. “They can get at anybody. I’ll never be safe again.”
“I understand your feelings, Elise, but I’ll see that Dino makes it his personal mission to keep you safe. Where does your family live?”
“There’s only my mother now, and she lives in Little Italy.”
“Elise,” Stone said, “it’s important that you not visit her in Little Italy.”
“But that’s where she lives.”
“You can invite her to lunch uptown as often as you like, but when you do that, don’t either of you speak in Sicilian.”
“I get your point,” she said. “Can I tell my mother what I’m doing?”
“It’s better that she doesn’t know until this is all over.”
“When will that be?” Elise asked.
“Maybe several months,” Stone replied.
“I’ll also give you a special cell phone, so you can contact us, if you need to,” Bob said.
Elise nodded, and went back to her dessert.
38
After dinner, Bob took Elise downstairs and explained the bugging equipment to her. Then he took her out of the building, where she could get a cab home.
Stone went upstairs, undressed for bed, and called Jamie.
“Hello?”
“How’d your talk go?” Stone asked.
“Very well. I’ve discovered that they all usually ask the same questions, so I can polish my answers.”
“What did you think of Elise?”
“I can’t believe it. Is she for real?”
“She certainly is.”
“I’ll file a new story tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t use anything she told us tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll blow her and get her killed. You’re going to have to be patient. Don’t even tell anybody at the Times about this.”
“I’ve already told Scott Berger,” she said, “but I didn’t tell him who she is.”
“Then call him back right now, tell him you can’t publish yet and why, and swear him to secrecy. Stress that she’s already a police informant, and you can’t blow her.”
“All right.”
“Good night, then.”
“What, no phone sex?” she asked.
“You’ve just frightened me and made me incapable.”
“I’ll try to be gentler next time.”
They both hung up.
Shortly after eight AM the following morning, in Atlanta, a florist’s delivery van pulled up to a trade entrance at the St. Regis Hotel, and the driver removed a box from the rear of the van and walked it inside to the front desk.
“May I help you?” a clerk asked.
The man set the box on the front desk. “Flower delivery for a Miss Jamie Cox,” he said, giving the clerk a clipboard so that he could sign for the flowers.
“It will go up with her breakfast,” the clerk said.
“What time will she have it in hand?” the driver asked.
The clerk checked a room service schedule. “She ordered breakfast for eight-thirty,” he replied.
“Thank you.” The driver returned to his van and made a phone call. “They’re going up with her breakfast at eight-thirty,” he said and then hung up.
Back at the front desk, the desk clerk supervisor came back from the men’s room and found the flower box. “Who are these for?” he asked.
“Jamie Cox,” the man replied. “Room service will pick them up and deliver them with her breakfast.”
“Too late,” the supervisor said. “Miss Cox checked out half an hour ago. She had a flight to make. Who delivered them?”
“I don’t know which shop,” the clerk said, “and I didn’t recognize the driver. What should I do with them?”
“Put them with the other flowers that are collected every morning. They’ll go to a hospital later today.”
The clerk opened a closet door and placed the box on a shelf.
Jamie boarded the Citation at PDK Airport, buckled herself in, and opened a fresh copy of the New York Times. The pilot closed and locked the cabin door, then went to the cockpit and started the engines. Fifteen minutes later, the airplane took off for Palm Beach.