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mass into a tangled claret river, with tendrils spreading across the white pillows, tributaries of fatal essence ru

Her limbs were spread-eagle on the sheets, her legs spread wide, open in reception.

Taylor stopped looking at Charlotte and took in Baldwin, who was still standing over her. He hadn’t said a word, but he turned to her now, face grim, lips thi

“You know what this means?” he asked her. Taylor nodded. “Yes.”

“He’s broken the pattern again. This was personal. She wasn’t a random victim.”

“You’re probably right. But we need to check for the article. And the frankincense and myrrh. We need to make sure it’s him, Baldwin.”

He turned back to the body. “Oh, it’s him. I don’t think the message could be any clearer, do you?”

“No, but we have to follow procedure. Let’s let Sam in here, let her get the body, Charlotte’s body, back to the morgue.”

They stood together quietly for a moment, then stepped away. They had borne witness.

Taylor watched Sam work on Charlotte Douglas, touched again by how reverent her friend became when she communed with the dead. Just the thought made her realize how close she’d come to being in that position, that she could have died at the hands of L’Uomo. The thought 350

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was more than she could take. It was time for action. It was time to finish this.

She left the room and sought out Baldwin, who was in the hallway talking with Fitz. She watched them for a moment, knew that she would die inside if anything ever happened to him. Yes, their wedding had been a disaster. But she didn’t need the formality to assure that he was hers, and she was his.

She needed to find the answers, to help him lay this case to rest.

They greeted her, Baldwin giving her a tight smile.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. There’s nothing more I can do here. I have to get to the library, find the name of this man from my memory. I know he’s Snow White. If I can find his identity, we can stop him. We can stop his copycat. It’s time to end this.”

She reached up and kissed him softly on the cheek. The stubble scratched at her lips, but she didn’t care.

“You want help, little girl?” Fitz asked.

“No. Stay here, make sure Sam doesn’t need anything. I need to do this myself.”

Baldwin’s phone rang as he watched Taylor’s retreat

ing figure. She tossed a wave at him as she entered the elevator. He saw the international area code and decided he needed the break. There was a window at the end of the row of rooms. He went there, gazed out on the city he loved and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“John Baldwin? It is Juan.”

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He answered in Spanish. “Hola, Juan. ¿Cómo estás?

Gracias por responder a mi llamada tan pronto.”

“Sin problema. Lincoln dijo que era importante. ¿Por qué no cambiemos al inglés? Tú no necesitas prácticar el español como yo la necesito en inglés.”

“Okay. English it is. I have a question about a man who may be ru

tries. His name is—”

“Edward Delglisi.”

“How did you know that?”

“Oh, my friend, I was looking into the murder of your poor chauffeur over the weekend. His name came up.”

“Would you be willing to give me the context?”

“If you tell me what you are looking for, I would be happy to confirm or deny based on my discoveries at this point. Perhaps you will enlighten me, and I will enlighten you in return. ¿Bien? ”

“Sí.” Baldwin scratched his head, trying to decide where to start. “Are you seeing a great number of cases of forced immigration? Illegals being imported into America for illicit activities?”

“Sex trade? Yes. Quite a bit. Human trafficking. The Border Patrol is corrupt in certain pockets, as are a few of the Immigration and Naturalization officers. There were many cases last year of both organizations’ employees ex

changing immigration status for sex or money. Foreign governments are participating in this scheme, as well. It has become highly lucrative, yet it seems your government is looking the other way. Illegals smuggle illegals, bad men import little girls to sell. It is a very appalling state of affairs.”

“Do you have Edward Delglisi on your radar?”

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“Yes. He has been under investigation by the Venezue

lans, the Brazilians and the Argentinians, yet no one can touch him. He has a system that insulates him. False names, constant moves, safe houses, sophisticated ac

counting. We ca

“We just had a run-in with him in New York. Does he keep the cash hidden there?”

“Oh, no, he is much too smart for that. He ships the money out of the country. He is an old-school criminal, does not use electronics to help hide his money. No, he physically moves cash from New York. We have not had any success catching him until recently. We seized a boat in the Caribbean. You may have heard of this situation.”

Baldwin stopped taking notes and leaned back in the chair. “A boat in the Caribbean. Was it called THE

SHIVER? ”

“Sí.”

Oh, Taylor was going to hit the roof.

“What does the Mexican government have to do with this?”

“Ah, mi amigo, you know how these things work. You sometimes need to look one way, while you are moving in another.”

“The boat you speak of. Am I safe to assume the con

nection is sound and has been corroborated?”

“You are safe to assume that. We took nearly four million dollars off that boat. We did not capture the man sailing it, he was able to get away.”

“And you have this man’s name.”

“We do. Winthrop Jackson. The fourth, I believe. That is your woman’s—”

“Father. Yes. She doesn’t know.”

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“Well, I wish you the best of luck breaking the news.”

“Thank you. Let’s talk about the chauffeur. What have you found out about his killer?”

“Only that we have a very dead American who was shipped back to the authorities in your country. It seems to be a case of mistaken identity.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“I do not. But that is the most convenient theory for the moment. He is not important to the bigger picture, if you understand my meaning.”

A dead American national not of concern to the security services in Mexico meant they simply didn’t care to investigate.

“There was one piece of information that was relevant. An American flew into Mazatlán on the same flight as our dead friend and caught the evening plane to New York City. His name was unfamiliar to us. Dustin Mosko.”

Dustin Mosko. That was the name of the man Taylor had killed in New York.

“His name is not unfamiliar to me. And for the record, he’s no longer with us. But he worked for Delglisi.”

“Ah. Then your puzzle is complete, yes?”

They talked for a few minutes more, then Baldwin wrapped up the conversation. This was news he’d sus

pected, but didn’t particularly want to deliver. His next call was to Garrett Woods.

After getting reamed for not phoning in about Char

lotte’s demise sooner, Baldwin went over the details of his call with the mysterious Juan. Woods would take it from here. They had an opportunity, a chance to right so many wrongs. They discussed ways to apply pressure, to stop at least one bad guy from hurting the i

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But it would cost, and cost dearly. Baldwin didn’t know what Taylor would think, how she would react. When they finished, Woods relayed the information he’d been trying to give Baldwin over the past few days. Charlotte Douglas’s legacy wasn’t looking bright. Woods was infuriated as he gave the details.