Twenty-Five

On the fifth floor the gunman was waiting for them.

“My colleague,” he said, gesturing toward the elevators.

It was an oddly polite word choice for, as Finn had called them, “muscle.” But Hollis took her cue from her husband and said nothing, just waited.

A moment later, the elevator door opened and the other gunman from the plane walked out, carrying a garment bag and a small suitcase. His suit was just as tight-fitting but a medium gray. He had a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top with no tie. Both men looked far less menacing than they had on the plane. But that didn’t mean anything, Hollis reminded herself. Declan never looked menacing either.

“We should frisk him too,” Hollis said, pointing to the second gunman.

“Frisk, not feel him up.” Finn took the bags from the man. “Holly, you look through these. I’ll pat him down.”

She blushed a little at his saying that in front of the men. They’d been together since freshman year of college, with only a short break after graduation. They each had their meaningless moments of fantasy. He went through an Olivia Munn phase the year before and Hollis hadn’t said a word.

She zipped open the garment bag. A tuxedo, and behind it a gorgeous black cocktail dress that appeared to have sequins sewn in by hand. She couldn’t wait to get a better look at it. She put it aside and opened the suitcase. It held two pairs of shoes, one black pair for Finn and a pair of medium-heel black pumps with a strap across the ankle. Next to the shoes was a rectangular black velvet box. Inside was a diamond and ruby necklace, with diamond and ruby drop earrings, and a pair of silver cufflinks with an image of the sun engraved on them. The flag of Argentina, Hollis realized, had the same design. Someone was making sure they would be properly dressed at the party later.

She handed the men back the cases. “What are your names?”

The taller man smiled. “I’m Eduardo. This is Bryan.”

“You enjoy your work?”

The men looked at each other. “It’s steady. And no two days are ever the same.”

“We’re Tim and Janet.”

Eduardo held out his hand. “Lovely to meet you, Señora McCabe. No one ever asks us about ourselves.”

“We like to know who we’re working with.”

Bryan nodded. “Your room?”

Finn pointed down the hall. “Five twelve.”

The men walked first and Finn glanced toward Hollis. “You have to make friends with everyone?” he whispered.

She shrugged. It couldn’t hurt.

Once in the room, Eduardo reopened the suitcase, carefully put the shoes on the floor and the jewelry case on the dresser. Then he pulled at a corner of the suitcase and revealed a secret panel. Finn and Hollis exchanged glances. It was too late to do anything but watch. Eduardo pulled out a small black plastic box. He opened it. Two guns. Two very real guns.

Hollis held her breath. They should have met in the bar downstairs.

Eduardo handed the box to Finn. “Boss said you might not have brought your own. We explained that things were a little, um, confusing in Michigan.”

“We need to apologize for that,” Bryan chimed in. “Clearly you knew things we didn’t. If we were kept informed, we could have done the job ourselves.”

“It was not the way to bring us here,” Finn said. His voice had authority, a touch of annoyance. “Why did it happen that way?”

Eduardo frowned. “It was a decision made by another. I hope you won’t hold it against us.”

Bryan wandered the room, glancing in the bathroom and out onto the balcony. “This is your room?” Bryan said. “I was told you had been given the very best. People of your stature should not have small rooms.”

“It’s actually quite nice,” Hollis started to protest.

“It’s a room,” Finn jumped in. “We like to keep options whenever we’re on a job.”

Bryan smiled a tight smile. “Smart.”

Finn placed the gun box on the desk. “You were following us earlier today in Recoleta.”

“Just trying to make sure you were okay,” Bryan said. “Considering the betrayal …”

Eduardo nudged Bryan, and Bryan swallowed hard.

“We’ll send a car at eight,” Eduardo said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, which he handed to Hollis. “Untraceable, of course. In case you need anything from us …”

“We’re fine,” Finn said. He walked to the door. “Eight o’clock.”

Hollis let her breath out as the men walked out the door and Finn locked the bolt. “It’s almost five now,” Hollis said. “We can rest for a bit before we get ready. I know I could use a few minutes off my feet.” Janet McCabe’s shoes were leaving her feet with a dull ache. “Maybe we could order some room service appetizers. I assume they’ll have food at the party and we don’t want to be rude and not eat.”

Finn walked back to the desk, closed the box with the guns in it, and sat on the bed. He said nothing, just sat there staring at something, Hollis couldn’t tell what.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I can’t do it, Holly. Gunmen. International assassins. Spies. Getting locked in crypts. Wearing a tux …”

She did not even smile at the last one. She knew better.

“You’re doing really well. You seemed so calm in front of Bryan and Eduardo.”

“I was faking,” he said. “I’m a teacher. Ask me anything about the literature of Argentina and I can go all day … Jorge Luis Borges, he was amazing. If you haven’t read Ficciones, you should.”

“I did,” she said, sitting next to him on the bed. “Years ago.”

“Read it again.” His voice was high, stressed.

She stroked his back. “Juan Jose Saer is good too.”

“He’s a genius. Cesar Aira, Victoria Ocampo, Julio Cortazar … I could go on all day.”

She knew that was true. “Lie down,” she told him.

“I feel like I’m speaking in another language. I’m just not built for this. From the moment that Eduardo guy got off the elevator my hand was shaking.”

“You hid it well.”

Finn’s eye was twitching. He pushed back in the bed and lay on his back, his head on the pillow. Hollis moved too, positioning herself on her side so she could get in close to him. He put his arm around her and she put her hand on his chest, her forehead against his neck. They stayed silent for several minutes, just breathing at a normal rate for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. She wanted to say it would be okay, but that was dumb. Would it be okay? She had no idea.

“I can’t do this,” Finn said.

He wasn’t in the mood for a pep talk, so she said nothing.

“I know you like all of this stuff.”

“I don’t,” she said.

“You like it more than me. I want to be home, reading about people who risk their lives on international missions of intrigue. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“From where I’m standing, you’re doing a really good job.”

“That’s a pretty worthless recommendation. You don’t know what you’re doing, either.”

She laughed. “And yet, we fooled Eduardo and Bryan. I think they’re afraid of us.”

“Who were Tim and Janet McCabe when they were alive? They must have had quite a reputation.”

A thought occurred to Hollis and her body immediately tensed.

“What?” Finn asked.

“What if someone at this party knows Tim and Janet McCabe? If they do have reputations in TCT, someone has probably hired them before.”

“I can’t do this. I won’t walk into a party with no idea of who has hired us and who will kill us.”

Hollis rolled onto her back, mimicking Finn’s position—tense and staring at the ceiling. “And what about the betrayal? Who was that?”

“Declan. It has to be Declan.”

That made sense. It wasn’t comforting, but it made sense.

“And even if no one at the party knows the McCabes,” Finn continued, “at some point whoever hired them to kill Declan will want proof that he’s dead. What do we do then?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“And the other person who’s supposed to be killed. Who is the other person? Are we supposed to know or is someone going to tell us?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t do this,” he said again. “I can’t walk into a party and try to be a hired killer in front of a bunch of criminals. I won’t be able to keep up the pretense.”

As the thought settled in, Hollis realized, neither could she. But in less than three hours, they were going to have to.