"It's less strange, I suppose."

"But you do not enjoy it."

"I should probably be going," Heather said.

"Of course. It was a silly question."

"I've learned to accept it."

"Very well, I won't take any more of your time, Amber. Thank you again for tonight."

"Good night, Dario." Heather turned her back to the two-way mirror. "I'll see you soon?"

"Yes."

She heard the click of the intercom being turned off.

On impulse, Heather decided to swing by Gigi's apartment on her way home. She didn't really expect to find her there at nine p.m., but Gigi had given her a key, so she could at least leave a note and maybe rea.s.sure herself if she found evidence her friend had been there recently. Gigi trolled for clients around the 8th Avenue p.o.r.n and s.e.x-toy establishments and had been robbed a few times, so perhaps her lack of contact was merely because a john had stolen her cell and she hadn't replaced it yet.

When no one answered her knock, Heather let herself in to the darkened studio apartment and switched on the overhead light. The first thing she noticed was the paper that had been slipped under the door-a notice from the landlord, dated a week earlier, that the rent was overdue. Frowning, Heather surveyed the rest of the apartment.

Nothing looked unusual or alarming, though the place was always so messy it was hard to tell if anything had been moved or stolen. Everything of obvious value-television, stereo, laptop- remained undisturbed.

But a foul smell emanated from the corner kitchen, and Heather's concern escalated when she discovered the source. Two cartons of half-eaten Chinese food had been left in the sink, and from the look of them, they'd been there several days at least. An inspection of the fridge-sour milk, mold-fuzzy cheese, rotten lettuce-reinforced the conclusion that Gigi hadn't been home in a long while.

* 50 *

Heather bagged up the foul Chinese food to dispose of on her way home. She was torn over whether to file a missing-person report.

Certainly, no one else would. Gigi had cut all ties with her family long ago and had no other close friends. But Heather had no record with the cops and was anxious to keep it that way. Because she wasn't a relative, they'd likely question her about how she and Gigi knew each other. Not only would that put her on law enforcement's radar, it could also jeopardize her fashion career if her boss at Ch.e.l.line got wind of it. She also doubted authorities would pursue the matter, given Gigi's numerous arrests for prost.i.tution.

After long consideration, Heather decided to make the call, but with minimal risk to herself. She used a pay phone near her apartment to file the report and refused to give her name. It was all she could do.

New York 11:30 p.m.

Chase avoided conversation with Jack beyond the bare minimum during their flight to LaGuardia, still brooding about the abrupt severance of their long friendship. By the time they picked up their rental car and headed into the city, the tension between them was palpable. As Jack pulled out a pack of Marlboros and started to light one, Chase said, "No smoking in my presence." Jack put the cigarettes away. "So, you knew it was me?" she asked after a long silence.

"Yes." Chase turned on the radio and tuned to a jazz station.

"Coltrane," Jack said.

"Yes." Chase drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, keeping cadence with the beat.

Jack kept time as well, brushing her palm against her knee.

"So, what's new?"

Her nonchalant effort to resume their easy camaraderie grated on Chase. If Jack expected her to throw her a welcome-home party, she was seriously deluded. "Plenty."

* 51 *

Jack took the hint and went back to staring out the window for several blocks. "Are you really going to play the p.i.s.sed housewife?" she finally asked. "Somehow, I can't picture you in an ap.r.o.n."

"And I can't see you collecting on hits."

"Life makes you do things."

"I disagree. But then again, I've never been a fan of blaming my decisions on the universe."

"I'm not blaming anyone."

"Make up your mind," Chase said. "I have a strong distaste for contradictions."

"And I'm not crazy about having to defend my actions."

"Probably due to the fact that you're not very good at it." Jack didn't answer and turned back to the view out her window.

Another long silence ensued before she spoke again. "I'm not saying what I did was right. If I could do it all over, I would. The things I've done-"

"I don't want to hear about your regrets or how rough times have been for you. I don't want to hear anything, for that matter."

"What the h.e.l.l do you want, Landis? You want me to say I'm sorry? You want to hear why I made the choices I did? Do you even care? "

"Ten years and two months, Jack. That's how long ago you lost the right to ask me if I care. You up and disappeared one day and never looked back."

"I had to."

"Maybe you did. I don't know the details. But you could have told me."

"It wasn't planned."

"You could have contacted me."

"I wanted to, but I couldn't." Jack's voice was subdued. "I needed to start over."

"You could have told me. You knew you could trust me."

"I needed to put my previous life behind me."

"I don't know if you succeeded in forgetting your previous life, but I can tell you for a fact that it completely erased you."

"Landis, my not telling you isn't because I-"

* 52 *

"He who excuses himself accuses himself. I'd rather return my attention to Coltrane."

Jack sighed. "You're still the same control freak. Still deciding whether or not a conversation or situation has ended. Let me guess.

Your existence is still calculated and divided into time slots. Have you even taken off your watch since 2002?"

"You'd have known the answer to that if you hadn't gone, Houdini."

Jack laughed and Chase did her best to keep a straight face.

Despite her justified acrimony with Jack, she missed their banter and easy familiarity. No one used to know her better. "And the answer is no," Chase added.

Jack laughed harder and Chase allowed herself a smile.

"I need to swing by my place at some point to pick up a few things. I have an apartment in the city. We can stay there if we're here long," Jack said.

"I'm going to ignore that proposition." Recalling the messiness of Jack's room at the EOO dorms made her shudder.

"Okay, so I need to tidy up."

"How long since someone cleaned in there?"

"About a month."

"Hotel it is."

"But I can-"

"One more word and I'm calling the WHO." They both laughed.

"Are we okay now?" Jack asked.

"No, Jack. We'll never be okay again." They had to be civil if they were going to work together, but Chase didn't intend to make this easy on Jack. She turned up the radio.

* 53 *

* 54 *

ChaPter Five.

Washington, DC Andrew Schuster anxiously caressed the roll of quarters in his palm as he waited for the dual parking slots beside the Pennsylvania Avenue gas station to empty. When they did, he straddled both s.p.a.ces with his Lincoln Continental to reduce the chances anyone would overhear his conversation.

He dialed the number he'd memorized into the lone pay phone outside the building and dropped the requisite change into the slot.

After two rings, the line picked up. "How can I help you?" Andrew cupped his palm over one ear to minimize the noise of the street traffic. "I'm calling for...the Broker."

"Speaking."

"I was informed you could help me."

"Start by telling me what you need."

"My son's liver is failing," Andrew said. "Familial amyloidosis.

We've been on a waiting list for almost three years. His health started to rapidly decline a month ago and the situation turned critical last week. We can't afford the luxury of waiting any longer. He's fading by the day." His voice cracked. "I'm afraid he's given up."

"I understand. It's a tragedy to have a child in pain."

"Neither my wife or I is a viable candidate." Andrew would never be able to let go of the guilt. His son was going to die and it was his fault.

* 55 *

"How unfortunate."

"I'll do anything to save his life."

"Of course."

"Anything," Andrew repeated. "It has to be immediately."

"We deal only with direct and full amount electronic payments.

Is that a problem?" the Broker asked.

"No."

"The price is two hundred thousand."

"No problem."

"The receptor's age?"

"Seven." Andrew could hear the clicking of a computer keyboard in the background.

"His blood type?"

"A positive."

"Let me see if I can help you."

More clicks. Andrew broke out in a sweat waiting for the answer.

A minute that seemed to last a decade pa.s.sed before he got a reply. "Congratulations, I have a part for you." Andrew sagged against the brick wall of the station and blew out a loud breath. "Thank you, G.o.d." If he weren't in public, he'd have let the tears of relief fall.