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ON FRIDAY MORNING, the day before the Stone Foundation event, Gia and Carlo set out again to follow Janice Jones, just as they had for the past two previous mornings.
As far as Gia was concerned, this was the last time for them to nail down exactly how to ambush her when they acted upon her the following morning.
And they couldn’t fuck it up.
Since speaking to Mario in the warehouse, the doubt in his voice had haunted and angered her. There could be no getting any of this wrong, so she and Carlo would do all that they could do in these next final hours to make certain that everything went right.
Not only had they been following Jones these past three days to make certain that nothing had changed in her schedule, but they’d also spent a considerable amount of time at the office Mario had leased for them. The TAC 50 turned out to be the perfect sniper rifle for this sort of event, particularly because of its powerful scope and low recoil. The guns had been assembled and were waiting for them to use when Saturday evening came around.
But now, it was all about Jones, whom Gia thought must be something of a machine since she went to the gym at the same time every day like clockwork—nine o’clock sharp. Never missed a beat.
This was the first time they’d taken the SUV to see how their plan might go down in real time. And what Gia already wasn’t liking was that, as March began its slow fade into April and the temperatures were beginning to increase, more people appeared to be on the sidewalks than there had been just a few short days ago, when they first started following Jones.
Was that just Gia’s imagination? It could be, though she doubted it. West Forty-Third Street, where they were parked now, watching Jones near them in the rearview mirror—her happy little ponytail bouncing just as it always did—seemed livelier to her, which naturally concerned her.
The fewer people who were near Jones when Carlo took her tomorrow morning, the better.
“She’s about to come upon us,” Gia said. “Can you see her?”
Carlo had his sun visor down. As he peered into the mirror on the back of it, he nodded. “I see her—how can you miss her? Are those tits of hers even real?”
“She’s a former stripper, Carlo, so I doubt it. But please don’t pop a boner on me now, OK? I need you to focus.”
“I am focused.”
“Good,” she said just as Janice was nearly upon them. “Today is tomorrow morning. What do you do?”
He told her.
“What happens if someone intervenes?”
“You intervene.”
“How long should this take?”
“Which part?”
“Getting her into the car.”
“With your help? No more than ten seconds—max.”
“That’s going to seem like a lifetime,” she said as Jones strolled past them. They watched her go by, just as other people hustled ahead of her and behind her. “Is it my imagination, or are there more people on the sidewalks than we’ve seen before?”
“It isn’t your imagination. The weather has changed in the past few days, and this is a walking city. It looks as if more people are walking to work...”
“Well, that’s just perfect, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, and in the absence of conversation, Gia withdrew into herself.
“Today is her last full day of life,” she said, almost to herself. “If she knew that now, I wonder how she’d change her schedule? What would become the most important thing in the world for her to do? Who would she call first? Who would she call last? Who would she make certain she saw a final time? These are things we’ll never know, but it still intrigues me.”
Carlo continued looking forward and shrugged. “In her case, it’s the not knowing that’s more humane, I guess. Right now, Janice Jones is free and happy to go and do her workout. Later, she’ll be free and happy to either lunch or shop with her friends. And because of that, those friends can remember her as she was—free and happy to be alive. Free and happy to be rid of Rowe. A woman still filled with the promise of a good future—until the moment comes when she realizes that he’s about to kill her.”
For a moment, they lapsed into silence.
“Gia,” Carlo said with worry in his voice.
She ignored his tone.
“These people around her now,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, any one of them could act upon us. Any one of them could decide to get involved. We need to be prepared for that.”
“We are prepared.”
“But are we prepared for how many people are on the sidewalk?” he asked. “It keeps building, day after day, as the temperatures rise. This isn’t how it was when we first started following her a week ago. It was colder then. The weather has changed, and now people are coming out in droves.”
She didn’t answer him.
“You and I both know that this hit is dangerous. We can still walk away.”
“Uncle Niccolo never walked away from anything,” she said. “While you were still in school, little brother, he told me that you never walk away from any commitment. He told me that when you agree to take a job, you finish it. Agreeing to take a job is your word—it’s your bond.”
“Why are you suddenly going all ‘Uncle Niccolo’ on me? Gia, we’ve always agreed that if we thought we were in too deep, that we’d just get out. That no amount of money was worth our freedom. We’ve talked about that on this very job. What’s going on with you? You haven’t been yourself in days.”
“I don’t like being doubted,” she said as she stared ahead at Jones.
“Who doubted you?”
“Mario did.”
“When?”
“In the warehouse.”
“Who gives two shits about Mario?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because he was best friends with Uncle Niccolo, and Mario, more than anyone, knows what Niccolo would expect from me. The other day, Mario might have said that we were in over our heads and that he was concerned for us, but when he said that, what he really was doing was questioning us. Especially me, if only because I’ve been at this longer than you have. He doesn’t think we have it in us to finish this job, Carlo. That insults me, it pisses me off, and it should do the same to you.”
“You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, Gia.”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she deflected. “We need to leave,” she said. “We need to pick out your seductive little outfit for tomorrow. Saks opens at ten. Let’s walk there—I need the fresh air right now. By the time we arrive, it might be open. If it isn’t, we’ll just have to wait along with the rest of the crowds to get inside.”
She shot him a look before she opened her door. “Rowe arrives tonight,” she said. “So gird your loins, Carlo, because neither of us knows what that’s going to look like. I say nothing good, so let’s just hope that he proves me wrong.”
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Gia and Carlo decided it was best to stay in and order take-out pad-Thai for dinner so they could watch the hours tick away while they waited in the living room for Rowe to arrive.
“Where is he?” Gia said when it turned eight o’clock.
“Who knows with him,” Carlo said. “Apparently, he’ll show whenever he’s damn ready.”
Earlier that day, Rowe had sent Gia a text on her TracFone saying that he was on a plane and on his way, but since he hadn’t offered her a time when he’d be arriving—and since neither she nor Carlo knew where he even was coming from—all they could do was sit and wait for him to be announced by one of the doormen, which infuriated them.
“He’s got some balls,” Carlo said an hour later. “It’s nine o’clock and we need our sleep. Does he have any idea how long tomorrow is going to be for us? How difficult it’s going to be? We need to be sharp.”
“He doesn’t give a shit, Carlo,” she said. “Right now, we’re both at his mercy. If we want his money, then we need to play his game. And believe me when I say this—it is a game. He’s playing us. Right now, he’s marking his territory and running the show. The good news is that, after tomorrow morning, he’ll have his final say with Jones, and then he’ll be on a plane and out of our way so we can finish off the Wenns tomorrow night.”
“Do you want a glass of wine?” Carlo asked. “It could settle our nerves.”
“No alcohol for me,” she said. “And none for you, either. Because you’re right—we do need to be sharp when we wake tomorrow morning.”
When she said that, she and her brother whipped their heads around as they heard the distinct ding of their private elevator, which led directly into their apartment. Then, they heard the elevator’s doors whisk open in the entryway.
Carlo looked wide-eyed and questioning at his sister as footsteps started to approach them.
Without a word, she pointed for him to get to the floor, snagged her gun off the coffee table, and then joined Carlo at his side. She’d only shoot if it was necessary.
And then a familiar voice rang out.
“It’s me,” Stephen Rowe said in a voice each recognized at once. “Here at last. Aren’t you happy about that? Don’t answer—I’d rather be spared the lies.”
When he entered the living room and found them on the floor with Gia’s gun pointed directly at him, he just stood there and looked at them in bewilderment. “What’s up with the theatrics?” he said. “I told you I’d be here tonight, so what’s with the gun, Gia? Put it down, for God’s sake. It’s me. You know—your employer.”
Not that either of them would know that on sight. Since they’d last seen him days ago, Stephen Rowe had shaved his head bald and grown a goatee that he’d dyed blond. He looked like a completely different person to them.
“You almost got shot,” Gia said as she and Carlo stood. “How did you even get in here?”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Yes. Seriously.”
“Gia, you and your brother might live here, but I’m the one who leased this apartment. Do you really think that I don’t have a key of my own and that I couldn’t enter here at any time of the day? Give me a fucking break. None of this belongs to you—it belongs to me.”
“Then you should have said as much when you handed it over to us,” she said as she joined Carlo on one of the sofas. “Never once did you say that one day, you’d just come strolling in. After all that we’ve done for you—after all of those deaths—do you even realize how wired we are? The high level of alert we’re on?”
“Get over it,” he said as he dropped a piece of carry-on luggage at his feet.
“What have you done to yourself?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that getting out of the States wasn’t as simple as getting back in. I needed to change my appearance so it matched my fake passport.” He smiled at her. “And it worked. How do I look?”
Like a freak.
“I barely recognize you,” she said.
“Then that’s a win for me.” He turned to Carlo. “How are you, Carlo? Ready for the big day tomorrow?”
“Gia and I have been preparing for tomorrow all week. Both of us are well-prepared.”
“To be seen, I guess,” he said as he slumped down onto the sofa opposite them. “Look, let’s just get to it, because I’m tired,” he said. “That trip was longer than either of you know. Before I go to bed, what do I need to know about tomorrow when it comes to Jones?”
“We’ll drop you off at the warehouse first,” Gia said. “You’ll wait there for us. When we collect her and bring her back to you, you can do whatever you want to her.”
“And how is ‘collecting’ her going to go?” he asked. “Seamlessly?”
“In fact, it will,” Gia lied, not really knowing for sure how it would go—she had her fair share of concerns when it came to that, as did Carlo. But right now what Rowe needed to hear from them was confidence that this was going to go smoothly. If he heard even a trace of hesitation, he’d grill them.
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he said. “How are you taking her down?”
She told him.
“Goodness,” he said. “Poor unsuspecting Janice.” He raised a finger. “About her throat—what am I cutting it with?”
“A switchblade,” Carlo said.
“Do you have it with you?”
“We do.”
“May I see it? I’d like to get familiar with it...”
“Get it for him,” Gia said.
As Carlo left the living room, Rowe called after him. “Are you her whipping boy, Carlo? Do you do whatever she says? Because it sure as hell seems to me as if you do.”
“I respect my sister,” Carlo said as he moved into one of the first-floor’s bedrooms, where they’d concealed the knife in a drawer. “She’s taught me everything I know.”
“Except how to kill the Wenns,” Rowe said. “You both fucked up when it came to that, didn’t you?”
“In a way,” Gia said. “But we did manage to kill Diana Crane and Mike Fine for you. And I’m confident that tomorrow night, when we finish off the Wenns, that all of this will be behind us.”
Rowe raised his eyebrows at her. “Look at you, Gia—making all of this seem as if it’s been a burden for you both.”
“None of this has been easy, Stephen. And don’t discount what we’ve done for you. Carlo and I have made certain that none of this will point back at you. That’s been one of our main concerns—doing all of this in such a way that no one will think that you were behind any of it.”
“Mmmm...” Rowe said.
“Here’s the knife,” Carlo said as he walked back into the living room.
“Let me see it,” Rowe said.
Carlo handed it to him. And when he did, Gia and he watched speechlessly as Rowe stood, arced out his right arm in front of him, and pressed the button on the side of the knife to release the blade. As the steel caught the light around them, Rowe skillfully began flipping the knife between his fingers in such a way that it summersaulted around them with ease.
“Had one as a kid,” he said as the knife tumbled around his fingers with alarming skill. “A cheaper version of it, for sure—but I’ve never forgotten how one of these feels in the hand—or how to maneuver it. It’s kind of like riding a bike.”
Who is he? Gia asked herself. What is he capable of...?
“When does your plane leave tomorrow?” she asked.
“Looking forward to getting rid of me already?”
“It’s just a question, Stephen.”
“At noon. I’m only here to have my way with Janice—the other two are up to your brother and you. I plan to be far away from that little nightmare when it happens, because to be honest with you, I shouldn’t even be here now. But as I told you before, facing the woman who did the most damage to me and my reputation is worth that risk. That said, the moment she’s dead? I’m hustling back to the airport and getting the hell out of here. Expect me to be gone well before you kill the Wenns.”
“You said that you wanted Jones to suffer,” Carlo said. “How can I help you with that?”
“Obviously, I’m not a murderer like you, Carlo, so what I need to know is just how deeply I need to cut her throat. And where exactly on her throat should I cut her? If I hit an artery, she’ll die quickly, which I won’t have. I want her to choke on her own blood, suffer, and die slowly. Tell me how to make that happen.”
Carlo told him.
“What you’re proposing sounds like a nick to me,” Rowe said.
“It will accomplish what you want.”
“Where else could I cut her?” he asked. “Where else would she suffer more?”
“Choking on your own blood is about as severe as it gets,” Gia said. “You won’t just be cutting her, Stephen—you’ll also be drowning her.”
“How long will it take for her to die?”
“She’s in amazing shape, so it’s hard to say. But I’d say that she’s in for at lease five minutes of hell.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” he said. “After what she did to me, she should die slower than that. But, I hear you. The human body is what it is, after all. Can’t control everything.”
“Listen to me for a moment,” Gia said. “If any of her blood gets on you, you’ll need to wash it off. The warehouse we’ve secured for you has a washroom if that happens. I asked you to bring a change of clothes for tomorrow if that’s the case. Did you?”
“Like a good student, I did.”
“Good,” Gia said. “Because there’s no way that you’re going to get through security and onto that plane if you have even a trace of blood on you.”
“Look at you, Gia,” he said. “Concerned for my welfare...”
I’m more concerned about getting paid, she thought.
“We should all get some sleep,” Carlo said. “We need to be at our best tomorrow.”
“And so you do, Carlo,” Rowe said. “Because if either of you screw up tomorrow, you can kiss the rest of those millions goodbye.”
