“No. Don’t worry, we got our eyes open.”
“Okay, do me a favor. I need to talk to your cousin in private. This lady you got up here, I have a feeling if I tell her to do something she doesn’t want to do, she’ll shoot me.”
“Yeah, that’s Nydia.”
“Well, the room’s too fucking small for me to talk to Olivia in private, so call Nydia and tell her to take a break for a while. Go downstairs and get a drink or something to eat. Or take a walk around the block. Tell her she should wait for me to call her back to the room.”
“What’s going on, James?”
“I don’t know yet. Not all of it. I have to talk to Olivia.”
“James…”
Beck interrupted the wariness he heard in Manny’s voice.
“Manny, just let me do what I have to do. Okay? We got our fucking backs against the wall here. I have to figure this out. I just don’t have time to tell you everything now. You have to trust me, partner.”
There was silence. And then Manny Guzman spoke slowly and carefully. “She’s my family, James.”
“And you’re mine. Call your girl with the gun, and tell her I need some time here.”
Beck ended the connection before Manny could ask him anything more. He shoved the cell phone in his pocket, put both hands on the sink, concentrating on letting his anger recede. Brandon Wright knew him well, but Beck knew himself. He ran the water and rinsed his face, first feeling the cold water, then feeling the water when it had heated up, soothing him, calming him.
As he dried off with the plush hand towel, he heard a cell phone ring outside in the room.
He stepped out of the bathroom and stood waiting as Nydia finished her call. She looked up at Beck. He said, “Dial my cell number so I have yours.”
He recited the number. Nydia dialed it without comment. Beck answered the call, stored the number, and said, “I’ll call you when it’s time to come back.”
Olivia watched the exchange. Something had changed Beck’s mood. She wondered what had happened in that bathroom.
Beck walked over to the window overlooking Fifty-seventh Street and stood with his back to Olivia while Nydia gathered herself, shoved the Smith & Wesson in the back of her camouflage pants, and left the room.
As the door shut, he turned to face Olivia, staying near the windows at the other end of the room.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Beck stared at her for a moment. Amazed that part of him was actually thinking about the fact that she was sitting on that bed with no underwear on. A rueful smile crossed his face. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought. If I completely terrify this woman, it probably won’t do me much good.
He watched her for a moment, wondering if there was any way he could see the true part of her underneath everything on the surface.
She was wary, confused by Beck, but so accustomed to controlling men that she still seemed relaxed and confident.
Beck said, “So, I was telling you about things getting worse.”
“Yes?”
“Did you understand what I was saying?”
“I think so.”
“Just to be clear, it’s important that you realize any one of us could be dead now: Manny, Demarco, me. Ciro. You understand that, right?”
“Yes, if you say so. Of course.”
“Or on our way back to jail.”
Olivia continued to give Beck her attention, but said nothing.
Beck motioned toward the door with his head, “I like that tough little chick Manny has looking after you. But she wouldn’t be much more than a small bump between Markov’s men and you. You get that, right?”
“His men?”
“Yes. You have to understand who Markov has working with him. War criminals. Rapists. Killers of women and children and old people. Mass murderers. One of them, the one who seems to be their leader, is clearly insane.”
Olivia stared at him, but didn’t answer.
“There are others, too. A group of hardcore gangsters. Russian. Not the crazy loose-knit crews who flail around with dumb shit. Hardcore. Old, old school.” He shook his head, thinking about it. “From out of the gulags. Beyond anything you know about.”
He moved away from the window overlooking Fifty-seventh Street and sat in the chair where Nydia had been, keeping his distance from Olivia, but his gaze unwavering.
“So,” said Beck, “you and I have to talk about a few things.”
“All right.”
“And there can’t be anything less that the truth. In whatever you say. So help you God.”
Olivia stared back at Beck.
“You understand, right?”
Olivia nodded.
“Let me talk you through it. You’re at Summit. You’ve worked your way to a position of responsibility. You find out Alan Crane is being reckless. Investing money for, as you say, bad people. And he’s pushing it, taking big risks. Naked shorts and all that. Manipulating stocks, whatever unscrupulous shit guys like that do.
“Milstein isn’t comfortable with it. He’s made a deal with the devil, but you know he’s worried. Crane’s too reckless. But Milstein is between a rock and a hard place because he needs the fees and the twenty percent of profits.”
Beck paused, waiting to see if Olivia wanted to say anything. Correct anything. She just continued to stare at him, composed, unmoving. He continued.
“You go to Milstein. You encourage him to put a stop to Crane’s high-risk behavior. Nothing more than that. Basically pushing him in the direction he wants to go anyhow.”
Beck waited. Olivia said nothing.
“Okay. Crane gets wind of it. He goes nuts. Comes down on you. Threatens you. Bangs on your desk. Breaks your hand. Yells. Tells you he’s going to kill you. Have I got it right so far, Olivia?”
“That’s what I told you.”
“I know that’s what you told me. Is that what happened?”
“Yes.”
“All of it? All of that is what happened?”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Beck leaned forward and spoke softly, but his intensity sent a chill through Olivia.