Assumed Identity

4

“Lord, I’ve never seen anything like that,” Holly said.

They had emerged from the Sherry-Netherland, turned right off Fifth Avenue, and were walking along Central Park South. Traffic blared while tourists waited to get on horse-drawn carriages.

“Keep a slower pace,” Buchanan said. The sunlight aggravated his headache. “We don’t want to look as if we’re running away from anything.”

“And we’re not?” Holly whispered nervously. “You broke a man’s jaw. You assaulted Maltin. He’ll have called the police the second we left his apartment.”

“No,” Buchanan said. “He’ll be packing.”

“How can you be sure? Every time I hear a police siren-”

“Because if you’ve never seen anything like what just happened, Maltin hadn’t, either. If he called the police, he would also have called hotel security, but no one tried to stop us when we left.” Buchanan guided Holly into the Seventh Avenue entrance to Central Park. A cool November breeze tugged at his hair.

“Why are we going into-?”

“Backtracking. We’ll turn right at this path up ahead and head back the way we came. To find out if we’re being followed by anyone connected with the guy in Maltin’s apartment. Besides, there aren’t many people in the park. We can talk without being overheard. Maltin was terrified.”

“No kidding. I felt terrified myself. I got the feeling you were out of control. Jesus, you were going to break his fingers.”

“No. I knew I wouldn’t have to. But you and Maltin believed I would. The performance was successful.”

“Don’t you do anything without calculation?”

“Would you have preferred that I did break his fingers? Come on, Holly. What I did back there was the equivalent of doing an interview.”

“Not like any interview I ever conducted.”

Buchanan glanced behind him, then scanned the trees and bushes on either side of them.

“I don’t mean just the threats,” Holly said. “Why didn’t you keep questioning him? How do you know he was telling the truth?”

“His eyes,” Buchanan said.

“Your eyes looked as if you were a maniac.”

“I’m good with them. I practice with them a lot. They’re the key to being an operative. If somebody believes my eyes, they’ll believe everything else.”

“Then how can you be so sure about Maltin’s eyes? Maybe he was pretending.”

“No. It takes one to know one. Maltin’s a single-role person. A shit who crumbles as soon as his power is taken away. It’s no wonder Maria Tomez divorced him. He told me everything I needed to hear. I could have cross-examined him, but that would have wasted time. I already know what we have to do next.”

“What?”

They left the park and entered the din of traffic at the Avenue of the Americas exit.

“Be practical. Check into a hotel,” Buchanan said. “Get some food and rest. Do some research.”

“And after that?”

“Find Alistair Drummond’s yacht.”