Finch stayed at the library for a time. He listened to Reese grumble as he roamed the city. He listened to Christine grumble as she followed Lis from store to store. He watched the credit card charges mount, and though he grumbled himself, the truth was that the teenager did not manage to spend more on her shopping spree than Harold routinely spent on a single suit.
Christine also took Lis to a salon, where, judging from the cost, the teen had her hair cut and colored one strand at a time and then had all of her nails dipped in pure gold and studded with diamonds.
But nothing they did really gave Finch pause until they hit the camera shop. Even there, Finch would not have begrudged the several thousand dollars they spent if he had not been certain that Lis planned to return or pawn the new equipment the minute she got back to the street.
Of course, she wasn’t going back to the street, so it didn’t really matter.
The girls settled in for an early lunch just off Broadway. When he heard Lis excuse herself and leave for the ladies’ room, Finch reached out to Christine. “Can she get away from you there?” Finch asked in Christine’s ear.
“She may think so,” Christine answered, “but there’s no exit back there. Don’t worry. I can see the doorway from here.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“You sounded worried. No word on the idiot boy?”
“No. Are you still alright with Miss Holland?”
“We’re fine. As long as the numbers don’t wear off that credit card.”
Finch chuckled grimly. “Whatever it takes to keep her happy.” And then, “But did she really need three pairs of boots?”
“One in every color.”
“Of course.”
“They are pretty kickin’ boots, I have to say.”
Finch sighed. “Then go back and get yourself a pair. Or three.”
“Aww, you are so good to me.” She paused. “That’s … “
“What?”
“Nothing. I just saw somebody I used to know.”
“You know quite a lot of people.”
“Well, yes. But this one left town decades ago. “
“Should we be worried?”
“What? No. He’s just having lunch. It’s interesting, that’s all. Unexpected.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And my girl’s back.”
“Keep in touch.”
“Kinda hard not to.”
***
Torres’ phone rang just as his steak arrived. He ignored it. It rang again. He ignored it again.
Smithy’s phone rang. “Don’t answer that,” Torres said.
The other man glanced at his phone. “It’s Al.”
“I figured.”
“Asshole.” Smithy answered his phone. “Yeah, Al, what’s up?”
There was some audible bitching. “I don’t know,” Smithy said, “he must have it turned off or something. Maybe the battery died. What’cha need?”
He listened again. From across the table, Torres could hear how agitate their boss was. He smirked. Rossi might be wearing a tie these days, but he was still a punk on the inside. The old man snapped his fingers and Little Aldo jumped.
“Yeah, we’ll take care of it,” Smithy finally said. He put his phone away and gestured for the waitress. “We need to go with this stuff.”
“What the hell?” Torres protested. “I just got sat down. What’s Little Al got that can’t wait until I finish my lunch?”
“The girl that was with that kid he wants? Somebody just saw her. He wants us to follow her.”
“What? I just fucking sat down.”
“Hey, I don’t give the orders,” Smithy said. “And neither do you.”
“Yeah,” Torres answered darkly. “Not yet, anyhow.”
***
Finch had been to the New York School for the Visual Arts several times, but not since they’d rebuilt the front entrance. It had been a rather bland but functional lobby; now it was a sweeping two-story atrium and gallery space with entrances at each end.
Money well spent, he thought with satisfaction.
The showing was sparsely attended, mostly by students who were there for the free food, but there were a few people who might be buyers or tourists, and several more who were celebrities in the photography world. He spotted Christine sitting on a bench near the front door. It took him longer to spot Elisa Holland on the upper balcony. She had changed into one of her new outfits, had her new camera slung over her shoulder, and was literally surrounded by young college men.
He sat on the far end of the bench from Christine. “Scarlett O’Hara, taking barbeque?”
She glanced over at him, smiled, then looked away as if she didn’t know him. “Oh, yes.”
“I’m not sure throwing her in with college boys was quite the direction we wanted to take.”
“College boys,” Christine mused, “with scholarships and ambition and plans for their futures. Plus they smell good.” She glanced over again. “She is beginning to see the possibilities beyond a world of Clay.”
“A worthwhile achievement, I suppose.”
“Of course, this crowd is all artists, but it’s just an icebreaker. I’ll move her up to B-School boys tomorrow.”
Finch smiled briefly. “She’s still sixteen, remember.”
“Eh, none of them are much older than her current boyfriend. And the sexual impropriety genie is already out of the bottle anyhow.”
“Which doesn’t mean we have to encourage it.”
“I wasn’t planning to let her leave with any of them.”
The group on the balcony laughed at some joke and moved on to the next photo on display.
“Still,” Christine teased gently, “in my experience there’s a lot to be said for consorting with older men.”
“We’re listening,” Reese said over the com.
The woman jumped. “I will never get used to that.”
“Sorry,” John answered, in a tone that said he was no such thing. “You were saying, about older men? I could use a little good news.”
Christine chuckled. “Well, for starters, if I try a new move in bed with a younger guy , nine times out of ten he freaks out. Gets all threatened and jealous and demands to know where I learned it. Whereas if I show an older man the same move, he’ll usually thank me sincerely and adds it to his repertoire.”
Finch started to blush. He looked away from the young woman, toward the window ” and spotted a black SUV. He stood up and moved toward the front casually. “Mr. Reese,” he said, his voice ending the playful flirtation of his companions, “we have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Aldo Rossi is here.”
“He’s after the girl.”
“He’s outside on the street. They may be tailing Miss Holland, hoping she’ll lead them to Clay.”
“You need to get her out of there right now.”
“I’m on it.” Christine stood and hurried up the steps to the balcony.
“You know where the back entrance is?” Finch asked, through the com.
“I do. I wired the place.” She pushed through the flock of boys gently. “Lis? We’ve got to go.”
The first thing the teenager did was look at her newly-acquired watch. “No. I want to stay.”
“Mr. Reese?” Finch said tightly. He moved back from the window, looking for options. “She’s meeting him here.”
“Are you sure?”
Christine took the girl’s arm. “I’m sorry, but we need to go right now.”
“No!” Lis said sharply. “I’m staying here.” She moderated her tone a little. “I just want to stay a little bit longer, okay? I haven’t seen everything yet.”
“Is Clay meeting you here?”
“What? No.”
“She’s lying,” Finch said flatly.
“Lis, we have to go.”
“Oh, let her stay …” one of the college boys protested.
Christine Fitzgerald silenced him with a look.
“I’m not leaving!” Lis said loudly. “I’m staying here.”
Christine pulled her very close. “The guys who want to kill Clay,” she said quietly, “are outside right now. And you’re nothing but bait. So let’s go.”
“I … but … “
“Now.”
The teenager moved. Finch watched as they left the balcony, not down the stairs but through a back hallway that presumably led to an exit.
“Get a cab,” Reese said. “If you’re not being followed, take her back to Chaos.”
“Got it.”
“Finch?” Reese continued. “I’m on my way. Any sign of the boy?”
“Not yet.” Finch went out the south door and stood on the sidewalk in front of the atrium. He pretended to listen to his phone while he looked around. “I don’t see …”
And then he did see. The boy was walking briskly toward the north entrance, blissfully unaware of the two thugs who were closing on him.
Finch shuffled through his options in his head. Clay was sixty feet away; he couldn’t run at him and knock him out of harm’s way. He could shout a warning, but the men had weapons; they might just shoot the boy and run. They were not more than ten steps from overtaking him. Finch could …
He wheeled, hurried back into the atrium, and pulled the fire alarm.
The sudden noise brought both Clay and his pursuers up short. The wave of students that came out the door gave Clay a bit of cover. He pushed on toward the building. The men after him fought through the crowd. Finch took the chance, then, and shouted, “Clay! Behind you!”
The young man looked startled. He looked over his shoulder. Picked up the threat immediately. Then he began to run.
He turned out of the crowd and ran across the street, still looking over his shoulder.
“Finch?” Reese worried in his earpiece.
“No, don’t!” Finch yelled.
The boy either couldn’t hear him or didn’t listen. He dodged through the traffic, around a sedan and a taxi, and reached the far curb safely. He skirted along the side of the black SUV, still looking back at the men who we chasing him.
“Clay!” Finch shouted hopelessly.
Aldo Rossi’s biggest man simply opened the driver’s door, grabbed the young man, and stuffed him into the back seat.
“Finch!” Reese shouted.
Finch sagged against the front window of the school. “They have him, Mr. Reese.” He felt sick; the failure tasted bitter in the back of his throat.
“Get out of there, Finch.”
Finch moved into the doorway.
The SUV started and made a U-turn, badly. It stopped in front of the two men who’d been chasing Clay. The passenger window rolled down. Aldo Rossi pointed toward the school. “Find the girl,” he ordered. The blacked-out window rolled up, and the vehicle sped away.
The two men hurried into the empty, siren-blasted gallery through the other entrance. Finch moved away from the building, caught up with the crowd of students as the fire trucks arrived.
“Christine?” he asked heavily. “Are you clear?”
“We’re clear. Are you alright?”
“Yes. But they’ve taken Clay.”
“We’ll get him back,” Reese promised grimly.
“And they’re looking for the girl,” Finch continued. ” I’m sending you the address of a safe house.”
“Okay.” She did not, blessedly, ask any questions. He’d known that she wouldn’t.
Reese said, “Finch, I need to know where Rossi would take him.”
“I’ve already compiled a list. Sending it to you now.” Finch sent the file from his phone. Normally he would have felt a hint of smugness at his preparation. In the wake of the boy’s abduction, it felt like a hollow victory.
There were half a dozen locations on the list. Their odds of finding the boy alive were vanishingly small. “Where do you want me to start?”
There was a little pause, presumably while Reese looked over the list. Finch knew that the operative wanted to tell him to go back to the library and let him handle it. He also knew that John knew he wouldn’t do that. It was a small blessing in their relationship that they knew each other well enough now to be spared those small sharp discussions.
“Why don’t you look …” Reese stopped, because his other phone line had rung. “Hang on, Finch.”
The com went silent.
Finch continued to move away from the art school, blending into the crowd, disappearing from sight. Not for the first time, he wished he could disappear from himself.
***
Reese looked at his phone curiously. The caller ID that had come up was ‘Pay Station’. He assumed that meant a pay phone somewhere, and he wondered for a wild instant if the Machine was calling him directly. He pushed the button cautiously. “Hello?”
“John?”
The woman’s voice was soft, quiet, as if she wasn’t used to talking on phones. But it was definitely human, and also familiar. “Joan?”
“Hey,” his old friend said warmly, “Do you remember Devin? He wears the long blue scarf, has the scar on his neck?”
“I remember him.”
“I don’t know if this matters, but that boy you’re looking for? Some wise guys on the street asked Devin about him.”
“I know,” John said. “They found him.”
“Oh. Then maybe this is no help. But one of them gave Devin his card. A business card. Sort of.”
Reese straightened. “Is there a phone number on it?”
“Sure is. Does it help?”
“It might help save a life. Joan, you’re an angel.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
***
“How did you contact him?” Christine demanded.
Lis looked around the cab, miserable, desperate to escape. “Is he safe?”
“How did you contact him?” Christine said again.
“I … borrowed a lady’s cell phone. In the bathroom.”
“Cash had a cell phone all along?”
“No. There’s this ap, a voice mail thing, you can leave messages or check messages. He said if we got separated we should check every day, noon and midnight.”
“So why didn’t you call him last night?”
“I wasn’t sure when I could get away from you. Is he okay? Is Eddie safe?”
“No,” Christine answered bluntly. “He’s not. He’s in danger, and my friends are in danger, and it could have been avoided if you’d told us the truth.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t even know you. How am I supposed to trust you?” The girl started to cry. “Is he really in trouble?”
“Yes. He’s really in trouble.” Christine looked out as the cab stopped. She paid the driver quickly, got out and half-dragged the weeping teenager after her. “And so are you, so let’s move.”
She got them upstairs and locked behind the apartment door, then took a quick look around before she keyed her earwig. “Random? We’re here.”
“Good,” he answered. “Stay there. Keep the door locked.”
“Are you talking to John?” Lis asked eagerly. “Is he with Cash?”
Christine shook her head. “Random, I think I screwed up.”
“How so?”
“The guy in the restaurant, that I said was nothing? See if Aldo Rossi and Teeny Bellatore are connected somehow.”
“Teeny … I know that name.”
“He was big in the Five Families when I was a kid. He retired upstate probably twenty years ago. But he was in the restaurant.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“He’s pretty hard to miss.”
“Checking,” Finch answered. “James ‘Teeny’ Bellatore. His sister is Aldo Rossi’s mother.”
“Damn it.”
“He must have recognized Elisa somehow, and told Rossi where to find her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Finch answered. “And you’re not the one who let him get taken.”
“This isn’t your fault, Random.” Christine looked toward where Lis had collapsed onto the couch in a sobbing ball. “How can I help?”
“Stay where you are,” Reese answered unexpectedly. “And keep the girl with you. We might have caught a break.”
***
Reese made his voice lower and rougher than usual when the man answered the number he dialed. “This Leonardo?”
The man sounded confused. “Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Devin,” Reese lied. “You gave me your card yesterday. Said you were looking for Cash Clay?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. We got him now.”
“You want his girl?”
The man hesitated. “You have the girl?”
“Know where she is. Lookin’ right at her.”
“Where at?”
John grinned to himself, but kept it out of his voice. “You make it worth my time to tell you?”
“Yeah, yeah. Hundred bucks when I get there. Just tell me where she is.”
“’kay.” John gave him an address. “Alley around the back.”
“I’ll be right there. If she moves, you follow her and call me back.”
Reese snorted. “Okay, but that’ll cost you extra.”
“Whatever. I’m on my way.”
Reese put his phone away, shrugged shoulders loose. and settled back to wait.
***
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