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"Anyway, that was my date. A disaster. Not even a Spielberg disaster movie. A B-movie disaster."

She told Stephanie about Karen.

"Shit. That's bad. Other-woman stuff. Hard to get around them."

Them's the breaks...

Rune said, "Here." She reached into her purse and handed Steph the orange earrings.

"No," the woman protested. "You keep them."

"Nope. I'm off high fashion. Listen, do me a favor, please?"

"What?"

"I've got to go to Brooklyn. Can you work for me?"

"I guess. But won't Tony be pissed?"

"Just tell him ... I don't know. I had to go someplace. To visit Frankie's sister in the hospital."

"She's home. With the baby."

"Well, I went to see her at home."

"Tony'd call and check."

Rune nodded. "You're right. Just make up something. I don't care."

"What're you gonna do in Brooklyn?"

"The money. I've got a lead to the money."

"Not that stolen bank money?"

"Yep. And don't forget the story of the Little Red Hen."

Stephanie smiled. "I'm not quitting my day job just yet."

"Probably a good idea." Rune slung her leopard-skin purse over her shoulder and headed out the door. "But keep the faith. I'm getting close."

Ten minutes later she was en route to Brooklyn. In search of Victor Symington.

On the subway, the riders were silent, subdued. One woman whispered to herself. A young couple had their precious new TV on the seat next to them, bundled in thick string, a receipt from a Crazy Eddie store taped to the box. A Latino man stood leaning forward, staring absently at the MTA map; he didn't seem to care much where he was headed. Almost everyone in the car, bathed in green fluorescence, was slumped and sullen as the car lurched into the last station in Manhattan before the descent beneath the East River.

Uneasy again.

Leaving the Side, leaving her territory.

Just before the doors eased shut, a man walked stiffly onto the train. He was white but had a dark yellowish tan. She couldn't guess his age. The car wasn't full but he sat directly across from Rune. He was wearing dusty clothes. Coming home from a construction job or hard day labor, tired, spent. He was very thin and she wondered if he was sick. He fell asleep immediately and Rune couldn't help but stare at him. His head bobbed and swayed, eyes closed, his head rolled. Keeping his blind focus on Rune.

She thought: He's Death.

She felt it deep inside her. With a chill. Death, Hades, a Horseman of the Apocalypse. The dark angel who'd fluttered into her father's hospital room to take him away. The spirit who wrapped his ghostly arms around Mr. Kelly and held him helpless in the musty armchair while someone fired those terrible bullets into his chest.

The lights flickered as the train switched tracks and then slowed as it rolled into one station. Then they were on their way again. Five minutes later the train lurched and they stopped again. The doors rumbled open. Waking him up. As his eyes opened he was staring directly into Rune's. She shuddered and sat back but couldn't look away. He glanced out the window, stood up quickly. "Shit, missed my stop. Missed my stop." He walked out of the car.

And because she kept staring at him shuffling along the platform as the train pulled out, Rune saw the man who'd been following her.


Tags: Jeffery Deaver Rune Mystery