May 2
Lafayette at Howard Street
New York City
3:29 P.M. EDT
Denny Littrell was, in the circumstance, rather proud of himself.
He had maintained a judicious distance, inconspicuous among the sidewalk crowds, blending smoothly into the swirls and eddies of the moving river of fellow pedestrians.
When his quarry had slowed at a newsstand, or paused at a window display, or stepped into a jewelry storefront for a few minutes of shopping, Denny had avoided the mistake of mirroring her actions. At the jewelers, for instance, he had strolled, eyes straight ahead, past the display windows until he was confident that no angle of observation from inside could reveal him; only then had he jaywalked across Lafayette and entered the corner Starbucks.
From his watch-post at the coffee shop’s window, he had a clear view of the jeweler’s door.
Kid’s stuff, he complimented himself. Piece of cake. When you’ve been followed more than a few times yourself, you pick up the tricks of the trade pretty damn easily…
For several minutes, Denny tunnel-visioned on the door—waiting, knowing that when she finally emerged he would have to move quickly, if unobtrusively, to resume his stealthy stalk.
Patience, kiddo, he told himself. Women shop, and they shop at their own pace. Even if the woman is some kind of spook. But she’s sure taking her own sweet time about it…
Despite himself, Denny shot a frowning glance at his watch.
“Am I late?” said a voice at his elbow, and Denny’s head snapped around.
“I have a weakness for diamonds and pearls, as you have seen,” said Tavah Duhahi. “I do apologize, Mr. Littrell.”
She smiled brightly. “Or may I instead call you ‘Denny,’ since we may now walk together through your most fascinating city?”
• • •
They did not.
Having had more than enough of walking, solo or otherwise, during his obviously less-than-stealthy hike from Federal Plaza, Denny had proposed an alternative suggestion—in fact, two of them.
They crossed to Centre Street, caught a northbound taxi and redirected it toward Soho.
Minutes later, they were seated at a table at Gilligan’s—The Salon, arguably more suitable for a discreet discussion than the hotel’s more lavish Grand Bar—where a corner window commanded a view both of the eclectic neighborhood and West Broadway.
“Thank God you’re not one of those white wine drinkers,” Denny said, lightly tapping the wide-bowl of his single-malt against a similar one in Tavah’s fingers. “I like a woman who likes her Scotch.”
“I suspect we have many tastes in common,” she smiled.
“I’d like to hope so.”
“And at least one friend, also. How do you know Jeffrey?”
“I met Connor down in D.C.—actually, just the other day.” Denny grinned. “We both high-tailed it out of town on the last train before … well, you know. Turned out that I knew his girlfriend too; bounced her on my knee when she was a kid.”
“You must have had much to discuss during your trip.”
“Oh, not really. Mostly, how good it was to get out alive.”
“Jeffrey mentioned that you are a famous news presenter.” She smiled, and Denny detected a gentle trace of mockery. “On American television.”
“He didn’t tell me anything about you. Do I recognize an Israeli accent?”
“You have visited Israel?”
“On and off, over the years. Since you’re working with Connor, I’m assuming you’re in law enforcement? Mishteret Yisrael? Or maybe Shin Bet?” He sipped his drink, nodded. “Yep; got to be Shin Bet. I know the kid’s in anti-terror, so that makes the most sense. Especially right now. I’m right, aren’t I? You’re working with Connor to track down the bomber’s father, this Abu Khaled guy. How’s that going?”
“You are a most analytical man, Denny. And quite charming, I am sure.” Tavah took a long draught of her Scotch, tipping her head back as she did.
And a very nice neck it is, Denny told himself.
“So I see I must be exceptionally careful around you,” she said, replacing the now-empty crystal on the table. Her tone took on a trace of humor. “You are a master interrogator, I fear. I must not discuss my work, of course.”
“Of course. May I order you another?”
“Perhaps later. Do you have another appointment? A different woman to follow, perhaps?”
“My schedule is kind of open right now. Anti-stalking laws, you know. Why?”
Tavah reached across the table, touched Denny’s hand with a lightly trailing finger.
“I have been around children the entire day, with their childish chatter,” she said. “I believe I would find it rewarding to now be around a man.”
She smiled again, though this time Denny could detect in it not a trace of either mockery or humor.
“This is a hotel, is it not?” Tavah Duhahi asked, and Denny nodded in agreement.