SEATED ON OPPOSITE ENDS of the bench, surrounded by the shrieks of Chinese children at play, they stared at each other in silence. The pleasantries had been brief, unsmiling. Now, each man having made his final calculations, Fabrese was the first to speak: “What I want is for you to pick up where you left off on the phone. That’s all you have to do. Just tell me what you heard, never mind trying to guess what it means. I’ll take care of the guesswork.”
“Ah.” For the first time since they’d sat down together, Chin permitted himself a small, private smile. “But guesswork, you see, is the most enjoyable part of the process. Imagination, you see.” He tapped his forehead. “Exercise for the mind.”
“You said you used electronics—listening devices. Have you got what they said on tape?”
Projecting elaborate regret, Chin shook his head. “We tried, of course. But the quality just wasn’t there.”
“Okay.” Fabrese’s gesture was abrupt: a gathering anger, gracelessly suppressed. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“My impression, as I said on the phone, was that Louise Rabb’s father had just died. He was a mafioso—a very powerful mafioso. And he left a fortune in jewels for his daughter. The jewels are buried within a hundred miles of San Francisco.” Chin broke off, looked blandly at the other man. “Does that agree with what you know—or suspect?”
“Never mind what I suspect. Just get to it.”
Chin’s smile was gentle, cat-and-mouse complacent. “My conclusion, you mean.”
“That’s what I mean.” Fabrese spoke grimly.
“Well, the conclusion is obvious. Louise’s father, I think, was Carlo Venezzio, who arranged to have a treasure buried for his daughter. When Venezzio died, it would be natural for Tony Bacardo to help Louise get the treasure. So he arrived in San Francisco Friday, two days ago. My guess is that Bacardo miscalculated what was necessary to get the jewels. Or perhaps he had second thoughts. Or perhaps—” The meaningful pause accentuated the final possibility. “Perhaps he realized that he would need backup—someone besides the daughter and the granddaughter of Carlo Venezzio. Someone, I imagine, who was familiar with guns.”
Struggling to overcome the tremors of both excitement and fear that began in the pit of his stomach and would soon be exposed in his face, Fabrese made no reply, permitted himself no expression beyond a narrowing of his eyes, a tightening around the mouth.
“In any case,” Chin said, “Bacardo is now in New York, or soon will be. And the two women are in their house on Thirty-ninth Avenue. And you—” Chin smiled gently. “You’re here.” The smile lingered as Chin added, “You’re here, and you’re worried. Or, at least, you are very concerned.”
“Never mind me. What about the tall guy with the aviator glasses? I thought you were going to tail him, too.”
“We haven’t been able to track him down. But we’ve got two people at Louise’s house. So if our friend goes there, we’ll have someone available to—”
“I get the feeling,” Fabrese interrupted, “that it could all come down tonight.”
Chin nodded. “Yes, I have that feeling, too. If they get the jewels tonight, they can get them to a safe-deposit box in the morning.”
“I also get the feeling,” Fabrese said, “that the tall guy could be the muscle—the one with the gun.”
Once more, Chin nodded.