"The tower. Moretti Global. Parking garage. Three minutes ago."
"Who?"
"We do not know yet. The team on the ground is engaging."
"Who was there?"
He looks at me the way a man looks at another man when he has to say a thing he does not want to say.
"Nadia."
I am on my feet before I have decided to be. The chair goes back. The page stays on the table. The page does not matter now.
She is in danger, and I do not know if she is bleeding, and I do not know if she is breathing, and the not knowing is inside my chest now.
She was in my arms on Saturday morning. She saidI am yourson a granite countertop in Greenwich Village, and she did not take it back.
She also filed an Internal Affairs complaint against me by that night.
She put me in this chair. She is the reason I am sitting across from a brother I did not know I had.
She is also the woman I am about to walk through that door for.
Get her, Seanie. Whatever you have to do.
"Where is she?"
"I do not know. The feed is dark. They cut the cameras before they entered."
"How many?"
"Four. Maybe more."
"Are they Stavros?"
He does not answer for a second.
"They are not Stavros. They are Crane."
"Crane."
"Victor Crane. Federal. Treasury. Nadia has been hunting him for two years."
The Treasury investigation that closed three years ago without a trial. The investigation that ended with a senior agent quietly retiring under a name I did not file then, because the case did not close on him.
Crane.
I remember it now.
"Move."
Matteo is already moving.
We are out the door.
14
NADIA
