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“The closest emergency room is Lenox Hill. I got lucky. There was a hand surgeon available. He set my fingers. Told me I might get away with no surgery. I went back a week later, and he said everything was good.”
“Did you tell them what happened?”
“Yes. I told the triage nurse. She said she’d report it. Told me to just worry about my hand. I don’t know what she did or when, but by the time everything was done, the police hadn’t shown up. There was no way I was going to sit around waiting for them. So I left. The next day, I called the precinct. I went in and filed a complaint.
“Of course, Crane denied everything. Filed a counter complaint and is suing me for false whatever, and I got fired. I talked to an assistant DA. Basically, he said I had no witness, so no case.”
Olivia looked down at her lap, perhaps to hide her expression.
She looked up. “I never set foot in that office again. Barred. I’m not sure if I’m actually fired or suspended until all the legal stuff is resolved, but I don’t have the money to fight it. And Crane put out the word that I should be ba
“Did he ever contact you?”
“No.”
“So nobody helped you, you’re screwed, and Crane is still just fine.”
She stared at Beck. He had put it so bluntly and succinctly that she turned away, her face lit by the guttering fire. He wasn’t sure what she didn’t want him to see: anger, fear, tears. Whatever it was, he didn’t press her.
Beck shifted his gaze to the view out her windows. A red tone had seeped into the winter sky. Beck had missed the sunset, but imagined how stu
Neither of them said anything for a few moments.
Finally, Beck said, “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
She turned back to face him. “So am I.”
Beck paused, exhaled, said, “So you called Ma
“Yes.”
“What did you ask Ma
“To help me.”
“How?”
“I didn’t ask him to do anything specifically. I just told him about this guy who was ruining my life. I told him I couldn’t afford defending myself against his lawsuits. That I needed to stop him from blacklisting me. That I needed to get back to work.”
Beck pressed. “How did you think Ma
She looked at Beck, defiance coming into her voice, as she finally admitted it. “You know how. I wanted him to threaten Crane. To confront him and scare the shit out of him. I wanted Ma
“You wanted Ma
Beck’s comment confused her. Then angered her. But she didn’t shrink from the answer.
“Yes. Yes, I wanted him to threaten to kill Crane if he kept trying to hurt me. Okay. I admit it.”
Beck nodded. He let what she’d said sink in for a moment.
“This threat of Crane’s to kill you, did you believe him?”
“At the time, it terrified me.”
“You actually believed some Wall Street hedge fund guy would kill you?”
“I don’t know. It sounded real.”
Beck nodded. “What about Ma
Olivia cleared her throat. She didn’t want to say it, but finally she answered, “I think it’s a matter of record.”
Beck shifted around on the couch. Looked at the fire. At the red sky darkening. At Olivia Sanchez. Then he asked, “Whose money is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The money Crane is investing. Who is the client?”
Olivia looked down. Then directly at Beck, but this time she didn’t say anything.
Beck said, “Shit. That’s what you’re not telling me.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know for sure.”
“Are you saying you don’t know? You, the person in charge of monitoring risk?”
Olivia’s expression tightened. She looked away. Stared at the fire. Finally, she said, “I don’t know all the details. The money belongs to a Russian named Leonid or Leonard Markov. There may be some other money in Crane’s hedge fund, but it’s mostly Markov’s. There’s a lot of privacy issues involved. Client’s identities and who owns what are kept confidential. But like I said, I hear things. What I hear is, Markov’s an arms dealer. He supposedly has all kinds of co
“That what?”
Olivia didn’t back down. She looked straight at Beck, “That could or would kill people.”
So there it was. Beck grimaced. “Christ.”
“But I don’t know if that’s true, or just a bullshit macho image Crane likes to project.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What was I supposed to do? Just let that bastard threaten me; let them take away my job and slink away?”
Beck didn’t answer.
“Look, Crane is full of shit. You’re right. He’s no gangster. No tough guy. He’s walking around like a big man because he knows some unscrupulous people. I just figured he’d fold in two seconds if he saw a real tough guy.”
Beck made sure to speak very calmly. “Olivia, a real tough guy, a man like your cousin, doesn’t go around threatening people. It doesn’t happen that way.”
Olivia started to explain more. “I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t tell him to…”
Beck raised a hand. He had the picture now. “All right, all right. Take it easy. I’m not out to make you feel any worse than you do now.”
“Well, you are. I thought you would understand.”
“That’s the problem. I do understand. Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why Crane went off like that. You say he’s ru
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe what he said would happen to you.”
Olivia looked down, shaking her head, “Dear God.” She paused. “So what do I do? Is there anything you can do? Or do I just forget about it? When this mess blows over, I’ll just start again. I really can’t fight this. I mean, you don’t think Crane is actually going to make good on his threat, do you?”
“Crane isn’t your problem now. At least not your main problem.”
Olivia looked confused. “Who is?”
“Ma
“What do you mean?”
“Ma
“Even if I ask him to?”
“It’s too late for that.”
“You can’t tell him.”
“No,” said Beck. “And I can’t not tell him what’s going on here.”
Olivia stood up and turned to the window, the red winter light making her skin seem to glow deep bronze. She turned back to Beck.
“This is a nightmare.”
“All right, take it easy. Let’s go back to what you want. You want Crane off your back. You want to be able to earn a living, someplace. Not Summit. That’s a dead end, but you want to get back to where you were.”
“Yes. And I don’t want Ma
“Yeah, okay. Well let’s take it one step at a time.”
“Meaning?”
“For starters, we don’t talk about this anymore.”
“What? What do you mean? Why?”
“Why do you think?”
Beck watched her consider the question. He watched her deep brown eyes flecked with gold move up and down as she processed everything.
“I think you mean the less I know the better.”
“Yes. The more I say to you about it, the more you know, the worse it could be for you. You get that, right?”
“I suppose, but I’m not sure where that leaves me.”
She suddenly moved over to the fire, picked up an iron poker, and stabbed at the charred log, sending sparks up the flue, taking her frustration out on the husk of burning wood.