Page 161 of Portrait of an Unknown Woman

“He was working with the Italian police.”

“I assume you made a deal?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“What were the terms?”

“He promised me that I wouldn’t face charges if I helped him take down Phillip.”

“And you fell for this nonsense?”

“He gave me his word.”

“He used you, Ms. Navarro. And you can be sure that he was planning to hand you over to the FBI the minute he no longer needed you.”

Magdalena tore her wrist from his grasp and retreated to the edge of the seat. They were inching across the intersection of East Fifty-Ninth Street and Third Avenue. On the other side of her blacked-out window was a traffic officer, arm raised. If Magdalena were successful in getting the officer’s attention, she might extricate herself from her current circumstances. But she would also set in motion a chain of events that would lead inevitably to her incarceration. It was better, she reasoned, to take her chances with the solver of Phillip’s problems.

“How much does Allon know?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“And the reporter?”

“More than enough.”

“When will the article appear?”

“Later tonight. Masterpiece will be toast by the morning.”

“Will the story include my name?”

“How could it? I don’t know your name.”

“Phillip never whispered it into your ear while you were—”

“Fuck you, you bastard.”

The blow came without warning, a lightning-fast backhand. Magdalena tasted blood.

“How chivalrous. There’s nothing quite so attractive as a man who strikes a defenseless woman.”

His phone rang before he could pose another question. He raised the device to his ear and listened in silence. Finally he said, “Thanks, Marty. Let me know if Allon makes a move.” Then he returned the phone to his coat pocket and looked at Magdalena. “Evidently, Evelyn Buchanan’s computer is about to have a serious malfunction.”

“It won’t stop the article.”

“Perhaps not. But it will give you and Phillip plenty of time to get out of the country before the FBI issues warrants for your arrest.”

“I’m not going anywhere with him.”

“The alternative is a shallow grave in the Adirondacks.”

Magdalena said nothing.

“Wise choice, Ms. Navarro.”