The October List

by Jeffery Deaver

  Slow down, he told himself.

  But then slugged the rest.

  He wiped his lips on his sleeve. He set the bottle on the table. He'd take it with him when he left, of course, after slicking the glass with his telltale DNA.

  Settling his heavy form back in the chair, Joseph winced at a sharp pain in his hip. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed the Glock 9mm pistol, dropped the mag and reloaded, replacing the two bullets he'd fired not long ago. He recalled the eyes of the victim staring at him in shock--too numb even to be afraid. Always curious, those moments just before the gun fired. People behaved in all sorts of mad ways. Heroic, pathetic, even blase. He could write a book.

  Joseph set the gun on the table and fished out the Gemtech silencer, checked to see that it was clear and then screwed it into the muzzle. Slipped the weapon into his waistband.

  He glanced at his watch. The deadline was two minutes away. He wondered if--

  A firm knocking resonated from the medieval door.

  A glance through the peephole he'd installed yesterday. Daniel Reardon and a distinguished-looking businessman. Joseph tapped the grip of the pistol, to remind himself exactly where it hugged his body. Then undid the latch.

  CHAPTER 34

  4:00 P.M., SUNDAY

  1 HOUR, 50 MINUTES EARLIER

  IN THE LIVING ROOM OF THE apartment Daniel Reardon made introductions. "This is Gabriela McKenzie."

  "Andrew Faraday," said the older of the two who'd just entered. The other man offered, "Sam Easton."

  Hands were shaken. Sam was tanned, balding and had a craggy face, quick eyes. Andrew, pocketing the keys to the apartment, was in his mid-sixties. He had thick white hair, streaked with black strands, swept back and razor-parted on the side. Businessman's hair. Politician's hair. Andrew was leaner than Sam and Daniel and not particularly muscular. No more than five-nine. But Gabriela's impression, an immediate one, was that he was more imposing than the others. And not because of the age.

  A natural-born boss...

  Daniel said, "These are the people I was telling you about. I'm a client of theirs. Have been for years."

  Gabriela and Daniel sat down on the decades-old couch, which released a more intense version of the musty odor she'd tried to eradicate from the apartment with the kitchen trick not long before.

  Funerals, she thought. Funerals...

  Daniel poured some more of the red wine. He lifted the bottle to her again. She declined. Andrew and Sam both took glasses. They sipped.

  "Daniel was telling us about the situation," Andrew said. His voice was comforting, baritone.

  She said with a frantic slope to her voice, "I don't know what to do! It's a nightmare. The deadline's in two hours! Joseph said I have until six and no extensions this time. After that..." She inhaled, exhaled hard.

  The men seemed troubled by these stirrings of hysteria, as if not sure how to reassure her. Finally Andrew Faraday said, "Well, we have some thoughts."

  Sam deferred with his eyes to Andrew. He was secondary or tertiary in hierarchy, she saw at once. She assessed he was dependable and loyal.

  Daniel eased against Gabriela on the couch and she felt the warmth of his thigh against hers. He gripped her arm briefly with his long fingers. And she felt the strength she'd noted earlier.

  "May I call you Gabriela?" The question was from Andrew. He seemed the sort who would ask permission. Proper, old-school.

  "Sure, yes." She smoothed frazzled hair. Then stopped her busy hands.

  Andrew continued, "First, so I can understand, Gabriela: Just to get the facts. This man who's kidnapped your daughter--Joseph, you were saying. That's his name, right?"

  "Yes."

  "He wants the document Daniel was telling me about. The October List?"

  She nodded.

  Andrew took in her hollow eyes. "And Daniel said you don't know what it means."

  She shrugged. "Names and addresses. Maybe criminals. All we really know is that people are willing to kill for it."

  Andrew said, "And no idea what the word refers to, 'October'?"

  Gabriela glanced to Daniel, who offered, "It could be something that happened in October, in the past: a meeting, an event. Or," he added darkly, "it's something that's going to happen--next month. Given what we've heard, it might be something pretty bad. But, on the other hand, it could be nothing more than a name. A company, even a person. Or maybe a code. Number ten--the tenth month."

  "Or," Gabriela said, "Daniel was considering anagrams."

  "You can find some interesting words in 'October.' 'Reboot,' 'boot,' 'core,' 'rob.' But out of context, we just don't know."

  "And there's this man named Gunther. But no clue how he figures in."

  Andrew nodded, considering this. He leaned back and ran a single index finger through his hair. Gabriela now examined the newcomers' clothing: The men were in suits--coiffed Andrew's was dark blue, balding Sam's black, both conservative and expensive as hell. Dress shirts, blue and white respectively. No ties. Bruno Magli or Ferragamo shoes. The clothing and accessories were, as Gabriela's boss would say, "primo."

  She said to them evenly, "I know I should turn it in."

  "Turn it in?"

  "If I had the courage, I would. I'd give it to the police, the FBI. They'd know what it means. That's the only moral thing to do. But I can't. The list is the only bargaining chip I have to save Sarah." Her voice caught. "I feel awful, but I have to give it to Joseph. I don't have any choice."

  Daniel said firmly, "You didn't make this mess. Charles Prescott did."

  Andrew asked, "Charles Prescott. Your boss, right?"

  "Former boss now," she muttered. And inhaled hard, coughed. "Sarah." She closed her eyes briefly. "I can't imagine what she's going through."

  "It's a beautiful name," Sam said, his first words since their greeting. There was a familiarity about him--the taut muscular physique, the casual angle at which he stood, calm eyes. Then Gabriela realized, with a shock, yes, the Professor! Though not familiar in life; at the funeral home, as he lay in the silk bedding of the coffin. And, of course, observed through the lens of tears--both then and now.

  Andrew said, "Beautiful name indeed. Now, Daniel was telling me Joseph wants not only the list but some money too?"

  Gabriela touched her fingers to her eyes. They came away damp. "That's right. A fee he paid to Charles." She inhaled deeply and said, "But I don't have that kind of money, a half million, even if I mortgaged my co-op. I..." She fell silent.

  Daniel turned his blue eyes her way, reassuringly. Sotto voce: "It'll be okay, Mac." The nickname was comforting too. Pressure of knee against knee, thigh against thigh, the pressure of fingers on her arm again. His hand retreated; his leg did not. She felt the strength and warmth of persistent muscle.

  "So," Andrew mused, "Joseph wants the list and he wants money." His illustrious face grew coy. "Think about it, though: He's taking a huge risk, possibly going to prison for the rest of his life, getting shot by hostage rescue teams. That tells us there's more at work here than greed."

  "There is?"

  Daniel filled in, "Joseph's desperate. He may seem confident. But he's scared. I'd guess he owes money to someone. Or he has to work off some other debt. A significant debt. Somebody's got major leverage on him--to pay off something. Or maybe to deliver the list."

  "And that's good," Andrew offered.

  "Good?" Gabriela asked.

  Daniel explained, "It's always better to negotiate with desperate people."

  "He didn't act desperate," she said darkly. "He seemed pretty damn confident to me."

  "You've got the list?" Andrew asked.

  "Not with us. It's safe, though. A friend of mine, Frank, has it in his apartment."

  Sam asked, "And you trust Frank?"

  "He's a little odd. But, yes, he's dependable... when it comes to me." Her eyes avoided Daniel's. "But I'm not sure where this is going. You said 'negotiate.' I just want to give him what he's asking for and
get my daughter back. That's all."

  After a moment Andrew said, "Well, Gabriela, I'm afraid it's not as simple as that."

  "Why not?"

  "Did Daniel tell you what Sam and I do?"

  "No."

  "I have an insurance company. Our specialty is writing high-risk policies. If you want to build a factory in a known hot spot--say, a transitional country like Libya or Myanmar--we'll underwrite your key executives and the facilities. One of our big moneymakers is kidnap coverage. When a businessman is abducted in a foreign country sometimes his company or family members go to the police. But sometimes--when they can't or it's too risky to involve the authorities--they rely on companies like mine to negotiate a release and pay the ransom.

  "And that's what I'm going to do with Joseph. Make sure he gets what he wants but under conditions that guarantee Sarah will be released unharmed."

  "You... you'd do that?"

  Andrew smiled. "It's all in a day's work for me. And, as odd as it sounds, it's really just like any other transaction. Kidnapping or bank loan or an acquisition or a joint venture, there's not a lot of difference when it comes down to consummating the deal. You always pay in installments. Never everything up front. If you were to give Joseph what he wants right away, then he has no incentive to... keep anyone alive."

  "I have the October List," she said. "But not the money."

  "Oh, you do have the money, Mac," Daniel said.

  Gabriela frowned.

  Andrew explained, "Daniel's providing the ransom and paying our fee."

  "What?" She spun to face him.

  He nodded.

  "I can't accept that from you."

  Daniel said solemnly, "You can't afford not to. Not at this point. There're no options left. We're not going to find your boss's hidden treasure in time."

  "But..." She fell silent. Then turned and buried her face against his neck, sobbing. He gripped her hard. Even when she winced and gasped, he continued to hold her; in fact, he clutched her more tightly yet. Inhaled hard against her hair.

  Andrew stirred and looked at the clock. "It's four forty-five. We have an hour and fifteen minutes. How were you going to arrange to give him the list and money?"

  "I was going to call him when I had the cash."

  "Okay. Here's what I want you to do. You'll call him and tell him you have everything he wants. But you're not going to meet him. You have a friend who's helping you with this."

  "You can tell him it's the man he met yesterday," Daniel said. "So he won't think it's a cop. Give him my name. He will've checked me out and knows I'm not a threat."

  Gabriela said firmly, "No. It's my daughter who's been kidnapped. I'll do it."

  "Andrew and I'll go. Andrew because this's his business. Me because Joseph knows who I am, and that I'm connected with you."

  "It's too dangerous. I can't ask you to do that!"

  Andrew added softly, "It's not as dangerous as it seems. We have leverage. You're in possession of this list he's so desperate for, we have the money he wants."

  Daniel added, "And we've got that." His gaze slipped to the plastic CVS pharmacy bag in the corner of the room. Small but impossible to ignore. The dark stains inside were obvious. "It'll have some evidence that can be traced back to him. He knows that."

  Andrew continued, "Oh, yes, we've got some leverage. Not much, but enough, I think. Now, we'll meet Joseph at six. As for the money... We'll give him some of what he wants, a show of good faith. And part of the list--to prove we have it. And we'll insist on seeing your daughter. Not a video or a recording. See her in person." A broad smile. "Then we'll agree to have the exchange tomorrow in some public place--the full October List, the rest of the money and the evidence." He lifted his palms. "For your daughter."

  She nodded slowly.

  Daniel said, "Could you call your friend Frank, and get a few names on the list? Or do you still remember the ones you saw?"

  "I remember them. Not the addresses, but the cities they're in." She wrote these down and handed the slip to Daniel, who read and then pocketed it.

  Andrew said, "That's fine. Joseph'll check them out, verify they're real... Now, the money. We'll give him a portion tonight. Half of what he's asking is probably enough. It'll show we're willing to cooperate."

  Daniel said, "It's easy enough to get two hundred fifty thousand together."

  Easy for some people, Gabriela reflected.

  "Well, are we ready to give our friend Joseph a call?" Andrew asked.

  Gabriela stared at the phone for a moment. Daniel leaned close. "You can do it, Mac."

  She looked at him, inhaled and then found the number and dialed.

  "Put it on speaker," the older man instructed.

  She hit the button.

  A moment later Joseph's eerie voice came over the line. "Gabriela! Hello, hello! I was worried. The deadline's getting closer, inching up. And I'm sure you remember what happens when you miss a deadline. Been on any good scavenger hunts recently? Found any good treasures behind Dumpsters?"

  "That was the sickest thing anybody's ever done," she snapped.

  "Oh, I'll bet we can come up with a few nastier examples if we put our heads together, don't you agree? But it was delicious, wasn't it?" Another of his odd giggles.

  Gabriela's jaw trembled. "How's my daughter?"

  "Well, truth be told, she's a little confused. 'Where's Mommy, why doesn't Mommy call?' If it's any consolation she asks for you more than for Daddy Tim. Was he really that bad a husband?"

  "Dammit! Answer my question! How's Sarah?"

  "She's fine."

  "She isn't fine, and she'll never be fine thanks to you."

  Joseph said dismissively, "People handle all sorts of trauma and are none the worse for wear. I'm a case in point."

  "I hate you so much."

  "Pity," he said, that singsong tone again infusing his voice. "If you got to know me, you'd feel different. Now, I notice we're on speaker. I imagine your good friend Mr. Reardon's in the room with you now, or somebody else, but not the police because after the excitement this afternoon you're not going to be strolling into any station houses. At least not voluntarily. My, my, you sure made a name for yourself today, Gabriela. That was quite a mess... Glad you're not my office manager. Now, who's your avatar?" He laughed at this comment. "Is it Mr. Reardon?"

  Daniel leaned forward. "That's right."

  "Aka J. P. Morgan. You're not a cowboy after all. You're a hotshot venture capitalist. I checked you out. The Norwalk Fund. The article in front of the name's a little pretentious, but it's an impressive outfit. Assets of two billion? If I had a retirement account, I'd let you handle it. And still you avoid fracking and unsustainable energy investments? How admirable. Surprised I'd do my homework?"

  "Not really."

  Joseph asked, "So, J. P., you're representing our Gabriela?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, I guess the burden's on you to deliver the goods then, in a little over an hour. You told me you have the list. How're we coming with the cold, hard cash?"

  Daniel explained their proposal, the partial payment and several entries from the October List so he could check them out, verify they were real. Then a public meeting for the complete exchange.

  Joseph paused then said, "I like dealing with Gabriela better. Let me think, let me think... I'm coming down on the side of no." Offered cheerfully.

  Gabriela started to speak, but Andrew calmly gestured her silent. Daniel asked, "What's your counterproposal?"

  "All the money now. Five hundred K."

  "Impossible!" Gabriela blurted.

  "Let's ask little Sarah how she feels about impossibility, should we? Guess what I've been up to this afternoon? I've been trimming roses. Snip, snip. You know that it helps them grow to cut back nearly to the roots? Imagine that. It--"

  "Stop it!" Gabriela turned to Daniel with terrified eyes. He nodded. Leaning forward slightly, he said into the speaker, "Okay. Full payment tonight. Five hundred K
. But only three names from the October List. And we see Sarah in person."

  "That'll work... Only, let me ask something first. Now, tell the truth, Gabriela, the list? You have it in your hot little hands?"

  The foursome in the room glanced at one another. She said, "We have it. Somewhere safe."

  "Do you now? I hope so. Because, let me say this, I'm a very bad person to cheat. If you try to trick me, in any way, or you hold out on me, there'll be consequences. I'm not going to threaten to kill your daughter because that wouldn't be helpful for anybody. But fuck with me and I will make sure she disappears into the underground adoption circuit, and you'll never see her again."

  "No!" she cried.

  He continued, "And that's not all, Ms. Gabriela. I have to say I find you quite attractive--sorry, J. P. Morgan. Don't be jealous. She's a good-looking woman, right? I know you agree."

  Daniel's jaw clenched.

  Joseph laughed, that giggling again. "If things don't go just the way I want, I'll find you and I'll make sure we spend some quality time together. I have a house outside of the city. Very, very deserted. So, Gabriela, you understand what's at stake here?"

  She nodded desperately, then realized Joseph couldn't hear her response. "Nobody's going to cheat you! We'll do just what you want, I promise!"

  "All right, J. P. Morgan, there's a place in SoHo... Elizabeth Street, two buildings north of Prince. On the east side of the street. A warehouse." Joseph gave the address.

  "I'll be there at six. With an associate."

  "Who?"

  "My insurance man."

  "Ah, that makes sense. But any heroics and you heard the consequences. Sarah ends up in a trailer in West Virginia with a born-again mommy and daddy, and Gabriela and I commence dating."

  Daniel seemed to be using all his willpower to control his voice. "Understood."

  The click of his disconnecting seemed like a gunshot.

  Gabriela sank back on the couch. She looked too drained even to cry.

  Andrew rose. "All right. Let's get the money, Daniel. We don't have much time. Sam, you stay with Gabriela."