the police have any leads yet?”
“Possibly.”
“What do you mean?
“I can’t really say any more at the moment. Are we still on for tonight?”
How could she not go now? Sasha clearly knew more than she’d just revealed and if Kit could worm it out of her, it might prove valuable to Kelman, and therefore to her in the long run.
“Of course, that’s why I was calling. I just wanted to verify the time.”
“I need to make it 7:30 instead of 6:30.”
“Not a problem.”
“And I need to do it downtown, near Wall Street. I’ve got a late appointment down there. Why don’t we meet at a place called Harry’s Bar on Hanover Square?” Not good. Wall Street would place her way out of any safety zone.
“But—I have to see your apartment,” Kit insisted. “I only got a peek at the living room the other night.”
“There’s really nothing more to see. The two bedrooms are as bare as everything else. What we need to do now is talk about a game plan. We can do it over a drink. Now, I really do need to go.”
Kit was sure that if she tried to change the location, she’d blow the opportunity.
“Fine. I’ll see you then, Sasha. I’m looking forward to it.”
She set the phone down and let out a shaky breath. Sneaking over to an apartment building on the Upper East Side was one thing, but an expedition all the way downtown was another entirely. She wasn’t second-guessing her decision—there was stuff Sasha knew and Kit had to lay her hands on it—but the idea of traveling so far away scared her.
Baby was still out at an appointment when Kit departed—and Dara had long since gone home—so she left a note saying she had an important matter to take care of and would see Baby around nine. Dismissing any need to impress Sasha this time, she dressed as nondescriptly as possible: a black velvet blazer, jeans, and boots.
Once again the doorman set out to flag down a taxi for her, but it took longer this time, probably because she was leaving toward the end of rush hour. As she paced the lobby waiting, she chided herself for not factoring that in. She was going to be at least ten minutes late, and Sasha was the type who might decide not to wait.
Finally the doorman came trotting toward her, announcing that the cab was just outside. She thanked him and nearly flung herself into the back seat. As they headed east and then south, Kit turned to look out the rear window. No sign of any kind of tail.
Surprisingly the FDR wasn’t backed up, and the city flew by, a rush of lights and towering buildings against an inky blue-black sky. They exited at South Street, and the driver maneuvered his way farther west and then into the dark, foreboding canyons of the Wall Street area.
“Here we go,” the driver said at last. After swiping her credit card, Kit peered out the window. The building was Renaissance style, probably constructed over a hundred years before, and she could see that the bar and restaurant were one flight down, in the basement.
She stepped outside, taking a split second to get her bearings. Though the address was Hanover Square, the building was actually on the corner of Stone Street, and she realized suddenly that she had been here once before several years ago. Not this restaurant but one down on Stone Street. In the summer, the taverns on the block set out rows of wooden tables that were always packed at night with people in their twenties and thirties, and she had sat there one night with friends, drinking beer and eating hamburgers, and simply people watching. Right now it was hard to imagine ever having another night like that.
She quickly descended the steps in front of her and swung the door open, anxious to be inside. Though the adjoining restaurant looked spacious, the bar itself was small, with low ceilings and brick walls painted a metallic color, gold-like and glistening. Votive candles twinkled on the tables and on the dark wooden bar. She spotted Sasha immediately, perched on a stool and looking almost preternaturally still, cradling a martini glass the size of a hot tub. As Kit approached, Sasha caught the movement and raised her chin ever so slightly in greeting.
She also gave Kit’s outfit a quick once-over. But Kit couldn’t care less. She had come only for dirt and was determined to leave with it.
“My