14

Forty-Two

Baldwin made a quick series of calls. One to the FBI offices in New York that handled money laundering and RICO matters, one to the pilot of the FBI plane sitting at the ready at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, the closest private airport to Manhattan. He arranged for a car service to pick them up, then they checked out of the hotel.

Standing on the sidewalk waiting for the car to arrive, Taylor mentally replayed the taped message from the cell phone. Her father’s voice. God, she hadn’t heard it in so long. It had been so easy to go along with everyone’s assumptions that he was dead. To ignore the sense of wrongness in her gut. But the voice on the tape certainly seemed to dispel that theory.

What in the world could her father have to do with Edward Delglisi? Was Burt Mars the key?

She must have made some sort of noise, because Baldwin quickly hung up his cell phone and took her hand in his.

“Want to talk about it?”

She smiled.

“I don’t even know where to begin. There’ve been a few revelations this morning, haven’t there? I’m just trying to understand Jane Macias’s role in this. I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence. Can you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. What if Snow White took her purposefully to calm things down between him and Delglisi? Jane may be a tool to broker peace. If someone is killing in Snow White’s name, under his sanction, but went against the plan and hit the massage parlor, Jane could have been taken to appease Delglisi. Deliver the girl who caused him trouble, get on his good side. Trade one for the other?”

“That’s…who knows. Might be what’s going on. But how does my father play into all of this? Do you think he’s working with Delglisi?”

Baldwin ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. I think you need to prepare yourself that he may be involved with Delglisi.”

A black Lincoln slid to the curb, and the driver came around to greet them. He got them settled and pulled away. He spoke over his shoulder as he tapped the horn and jerked the wheel, a perfect imitation of a taxi driver, just wearing a black suit and driving a nicer vehicle.

“Sorry, boss, but we’ve got to take the tunnel. There’s some sort of protest going on at the GW bridge, traffic’s all backed up. Won’t take but half an hour, boss, promise.”

Taylor looked out the window, watching as they passed by all the familiar landmarks, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, on to the West Side before they hit the Lincoln Tunnel exit. She was astounded, as always, by the sheer number of people moving through the city at any given time. Gone was the oppressive night. She wondered how long that was going to last. She put her head back against the soft leather and closed her eyes, finally answering.

“You may be right, Baldwin, but I hope to God you’re not.”

Baldwin’s phone rang as they boarded the Gulf-stream. He answered, then turned to Taylor, who was already seated with a cup of tea in her hand.

“It’s Lincoln.”

She took the phone, a smile actually reaching her eyes. “Hey, Linc. How’s it going?”

“Taylor, we’ve been missing you, girl. Are you on your way home?”

“We just closed the doors on the jet and the plane is moving. We’ll be there in a couple of hours. What’s happening back there?”

“Well, I’ve been doing some snooping around. Found a connection you might be interested in. It’s about our missing girl, Jane Macias.”

“Funny, we just spent some time at breakfast with the cops from the 108th who told us some very interesting things about her. And her father. He was killed last year by the man who had me taken.”

“Edward Delglisi.”

“Right. Where’d you get that name?”

“Jane Macias’s laptop. I finally cracked the code, found what she had so well hidden. She’s got a massive expose in here, all about Delglisi. His crimes, his setup, the whole shebang. This is big stuff. Front-page-news kind of stuff.”

“Great work, Lincoln.”

“There’s more. Interesting things. There’s a name in here that Jane has traced back to Delglisi. One you might recognize. Anthony Malik.”

“Anthony Malik? Why is that name so familiar?”

The memory hit her like a ton of bricks. The men at the New Year’s Eve party. The four who were joking and laughing with her father. Burt Mars was one, Anthony Malik another. And the fourth man, the one she couldn’t name, was wearing a signet ring. His wife was the woman who’d so offended her mother by wearing the same Marie Antoinette costume. She was big because she was pregnant. Damn it, what were their names?

“Lincoln, what information is in the files about Malik?” The note in her voice made Baldwin look up from his files.

“Not a lot. She hadn’t drawn any conclusions about it, just has the name Malik next to all the Delglisis. There is some stuff in here about forged birth certificates, but it’s unfinished.”

“Okay, Linc. Thanks. I’m going to give you a phone number. I want you to call Detective Emily Callahan and tell her everything you found out in those files. Maybe she can help you trace Anthony Malik to Edward Delglisi.”

“Will do. I’ll see you soon?”

“Very.” She clicked off the phone. Shook her head, met Baldwin’s eye.

“And the hits just keep on coming. Lincoln found the name of one of my father’s old friends in Jane Macias’s computer. She was trying to prove links between him and Delglisi. The name is Anthony Malik. Baldwin, he’s one of the men in my memory.”