5

Anne wasn’t sure of the precise moment she decided to take up smoking again. It just happened.

She stood outside the Plaza Hotel in New York and lit up. Why Ambrosi had chosen this place to meet was beyond her. It was so public. So old-style gentility.

Inhaling the smoke as if it were life-giving oxygen, Anne watched the upscale afternoon crowd milling about. A hansom cab pulled up in front with a giggling couple in their early thirties. They seemed blissfully happy. Anne immediately hated them.

Why wasn’t she happy? Everything was going her way, wasn’t it? She was taking care of business for Levering and she was good, so good. That weasel of a detective, Markey, had no idea what he was up against. He’d fade out soon enough.

So why should she be smoking as if her life depended on it? She laughed at that. A life lived in dependence on tobacco products? Well, why not? She remembered a bumper sticker she saw once: “Everybody has to believe something. I believe I’ll have another beer.”

I believe I’ll have another smoke.

One of the Plaza doormen looked at her with a leer. Anne shook her head, as much to herself as to the doorman, and turned back toward Fifth Avenue. At the same time, she fished out another cigarette and turned her thoughts toward Levering.

He was losing it, whatever “it” was. His general anxiety level seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. If it wasn’t for the paycheck, she might have considered leaving his employ.

Was she losing “it,” too? She shook off the thought. Losing was not in her program. Ever since her parents had died, she had trained herself to win at all costs. All costs.

She took a few steps down the sidewalk, just to get moving. The steamy air of the New York street was, in its own way, bracing for her. She breathed deeply of its mix of smoke, fumes, and dust.

She was just about to turn back toward the hotel when she saw Elijah.

Her jaw dropped. The burning cigarette in her fingers fell to the sidewalk. Had Ambrosi shipped Elijah to New York?

Anne didn’t even glance down. She couldn’t. Elijah was walking straight toward her.

She felt a scream rising in her throat, but even then her mind said something about being in front of the Plaza Hotel, idiot, and do you want to make a spectacle?

Her mind zipped back to the last time she’d seen him, when he’d told her that it wasn’t too late. Like some ghostly herald from Shakespeare.

Should she run? That would be an even bigger spectacle, some crazed chick in heels tottering down the street.

Or she could mace him again.

She reached in her purse, fumbled around. It was in there somewhere. Where?

He was within ten feet of her, looking past her, when she realized her error. It was not Elijah. It could have been his brother, though. The similarity in build and bearing was striking. But it was definitely not him.

Anne felt chills run through her body as this New York version of the crazy prophet passed her without a glance.

Oh, she was closer to losing it than she thought. What was going on with her? She dug in her purse for another cigarette.

“Hey!” Ambrosi’s voice. The word came out like a hard A.

She dropped her purse.

“What is up with you?” Ambrosi said. He was dressed all in black, a silky black suit with matching shirt and tie, and dark glasses. He looked like midnight on two legs.

Anne let fly a few choice words as she gathered up the things that had spilled out of her purse. Ambrosi watched.

“You could help me,” Anne said.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Did you hear what I said?” She was crouched down, trying hard to keep her tight dress from tearing and, at the same time, keep her undergarments from being exposed to the gawking pedestrians.

“Cool off, baby,” Ambrosi said.

When Anne finally had her bag restuffed, she stood up and said, “Did you take care of our problem in D.C.?”

She imagined him blinking in mock disgust behind his shades. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just reassure me.”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Done.”

Anne shook her head. “You escorted him where?”

Ambrosi looked at his nails. “Look, babe, I didn’t give you the whole thing. We had to go all the way.”

Anne looked around, as if FBI cameras were homing in on them. “You killed him?”

“Whacked. Remember?” He laughed.

“We didn’t ask you to – ”

“You can’t do anything now,” Ambrosi said. “It’s over. Wanna do the Oak Bar?”

Too late.

“Yeah,” she said to Ambrosi. “Let’s get a drink now.”

6

The park faced the Potomac. Its gentle murmur in the October afternoon was in sharp contrast to the jangling alarms inside Millie. Despite Helen’s presence and soothing voice, she sensed something was very wrong. And she was determined to find out just what that was.

“Over here,” Helen said. She led Millie toward the eastern end of the park. There were a few scattered people around, some lolling in the shade of birch trees, others at picnic tables having lunch. She wondered if any of them had any idea who was here. A United States senator and the chief justice. No one seemed to notice.

Helen stopped at a table where a lone woman sat. The woman looked up at Helen and smiled. It was clear they knew each other.

“Millie… I mean Justice Hollander,” Helen said. “I’d like you to meet Toni Ridge.”

The woman smiled at Millie and extended her hand. She was around thirty-five and wore a conservative business suit. She might have been a lawyer or an accountant. Or an actress playing one. Her hair and eyes were movie star quality.

“I’m very honored to meet you,” Toni Ridge said.

Mystified, Millie said, “Thank you.”

“I thought you should meet her,” Helen said. “She works in one of our NPPG offices in Maryland. Legal counsel.” Helen motioned for everyone to sit.

“You know Senator Levering, I believe,” Helen said to Toni. The look that flashed across Toni’s face suggested to Millie she knew him quite well. But all she said was, “Of course.”

Helen took charge, as if running one of her meetings. “I wanted you to see a human face, Millie. Someone whose life you have touched profoundly.”

Millie looked at the beautiful young woman. She appeared to be the picture of urban success. She even wore a wedding ring, prompting Millie to imagine a square-jawed husband who also had movie star looks.

“Toni, why don’t you tell Millie, I mean, the chief justice, just what this is all about,” Helen said.

“I’d be happy to,” Toni Ridge said. She folded her hands in front of her, like a guest on a talk show. “Madame Chief Justice, when I was in law school, at Georgetown, I fell in love with your opinions. Not simply because I agreed with your opinions, but because of the writing itself. No one on the Court is a stylist like you.”

“Thank you,” Millie said quietly.

“I knew then I wanted to follow in your footsteps,” Toni said. “I wanted to learn the law and hopefully, someday, become a judge. Who knows, maybe I’d end up on the Supreme Court. It’s a wild dream, I know.”

“Everything worth attaining starts as a dream,” Millie said. Despite the odd circumstances, Millie felt an affinity for the woman. Anyone who loved the law…

Smiling shyly, Toni said, “Yeah. I believed that. Anyway, I really took to law school. I made Law Review, everything was going great. And then…”

The trailing off of her voice was like the change in score in a movie. What had once been a light, airy scene was suddenly ominous, with things lurking in shadows.

“Go ahead,” Helen told Toni. “You’re among friends.”

The young woman looked at her hands. They were no longer folded demurely. Now the fingers squeezed against the back of her hands, bunching the skin.