Sidney Sheldon's Chasing Tomorrow (Tracy Whitney)

by Sidney Sheldon

  Of course, it could have had something to do with the venue. The FBI’s New York headquarters did not exactly qualify as one of Tracy’s “happy places.”

  “You’re perfectly safe,” Jean Rizzo told her. “I’m on the other side of the glass, along with Agents Buck, Soltan.”

  “Surrounded by the FBI. That’s very reassuring,” quipped Tracy. “Do I need my lawyer, Jean?”

  “No. Nothing’s off-limits.”

  Special Agent Soltan nodded his agreement. “We appreciate you being here, Miss Whitney. You say whatever you need to in there to get Kennedy to talk. You have complete immunity, so you won’t incriminate yourself.”

  Tracy glanced at the short, good-looking agent next to Jean. He looked as if he’d just swallowed a handful of jalapeños.

  Jean Rizzo patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

  ELIZABETH LOOKED UP WHEN the door opened, an expression of profound boredom etched on her face. Then she saw who it was and smiled broadly.

  “Tracy!” She leaned back in her chair. If she were nervous, she was doing an excellent job of hiding it. “Well, well, well. Playing for the other team now, are we? I must say I’m surprised. Especially after our last run-in. Out of curiosity, how much did you get for Sheila Brookstein’s rubies?”

  “One-point-seven million,” Tracy said coolly. “You’re so sweet to ask.”

  On the other side of the mirrored glass, Milton Buck’s jaw hit the floor.

  “Tracy Whitney pulled the Brookstein job?”

  “Shhh.” Jean Rizzo waved a hand dismissively, his eyes glued to the two women. Tracy was talking.

  “I donated the money to charity.”

  “Of course you did.” Elizabeth’s upper lip curled slightly. “You always were quite the saint.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Tracy smiled. “Then again, it’s all relative.”

  Milton Buck hissed in Jean Rizzo’s ear.

  “You knew about this! You knew Whitney did the Brookstein job! Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

  “And compromise my source? Why should I?” said Jean. “Besides, you weren’t exactly falling over yourself to help me with my investigation. Remember?”

  “Be quiet, both of you,” Special Agent Soltan snapped.

  Tracy had sat down now, face-to-face with Elizabeth.

  “It hasn’t been your year, has it?” she said mockingly. “First you screw up the Brookstein job and now you manage to get arrested by not one but two law enforcement agencies on the same night. Not very impressive. Especially when you consider that a monkey could have outsmarted Bianca Berkeley.”

  “Bianca took the bait hook, line and sinker,” Elizabeth shot back. “I executed the job perfectly.”

  “Hmm. That must be why you’re here.”

  Tracy’s confidence was returning now. She was starting to enjoy herself. Elizabeth radiated the same cold beauty Tracy remembered. Her features were perfect, but she was as dead inside as a marble statue. Running her eyes up and down her slender figure, Tracy said, “They’re going to love you in prison. Trust me. I’ve been there.”

  Elizabeth looked at her curiously.

  “Why do you take things so personally?”

  “Probably because I’m a person. Not a machine, like you.”

  “A machine?” Elizabeth smiled, composed again now. “Come now, that’s not fair. We’re the same, Tracy, you and I.”

  Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “The same? I don’t think so.”

  “Why ever not? You’re a thief. I’m a thief.”

  “I only robbed from the greedy, from people who deserved it.”

  “Deserved it according to whom? You?” Elizabeth snorted with derision. “Who made you judge and jury?”

  Outside, Milton Buck muttered under his breath, “Exactly.” He couldn’t understand how Rizzo and the others could listen to this baloney.

  “You prey on the old and the weak,” said Tracy.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Sometimes. The old and weak can be greedy too, you know.”

  “All you care about is money.”

  “Again, not true. I care about Jeff. That’s something else we have in common.”

  Tracy jumped in her seat as if she’d been shocked. The atmosphere inside the room was suddenly electric.

  “Where’s your sense of sisterhood, Tracy?” Elizabeth taunted. “I’ll admit, in the beginning it was just business. I seduced Jeff as part of a job. But the sexual chemistry between us was so insane, it soon became more than a job. For both of us,” she added, like a scorpion delivering its sting.

  Beneath the table, Tracy dug her nails into her palms so hard they bled.

  Don’t cry. Don’t show emotion. Not to her.

  “So what was this job?” Her voice was calm and measured. “I’m curious.”

  “I was hired to split the two of you up.”

  “Why? Who hired you?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “That would be telling. Let’s just say that not everyone out there is as convinced of your saintly status as you seem to be. Some people just see you as a conniving, thieving little bitch who deserves to get her comeuppance. And did you ever get it, Tracy!” She laughed cruelly.

  Tracy kept her cool. “How much were you paid?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand,” said Elizabeth. “Of course I wouldn’t get out of bed for that today. But this was a decade ago. And all I had to do was get into bed, Jeff’s bed. Which wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

  Jean Rizzo winced. He knew how much this exchange must be hurting Tracy, but he prayed she stayed on this track. Elizabeth was getting emotional, giving far more away than she intended to. If Tracy could just press the right button, surely, he told himself, she’d crack.

  Tracy said, “They think Jeff’s involved in this, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” Elizabeth laughed. “Agent Buck seems to believe Jeff masterminded my entire career and that odd little Canadian fellow thinks he’s running around bumping off prostitutes. Or that I am, I wasn’t quite sure. He showed me some horrible photographs. Not very gentlemanly of him.”

  “So you don’t work with Jeff?” Tracy pressed her

  Attagirl, thought Jean Rizzo.

  “No. I don’t. And I don’t know anything about any murders either. I wouldn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing.”

  “If you don’t work with Jeff, what were you doing at his hotel last week? You were seen meeting in the park, then returning to the Gramercy together.”

  “Was I now?” Elizabeth smirked.

  “What were you doing?” Tracy repeated.

  “What do you think we were doing? Playing Scrabble? Dear oh dear, poor Tracy. Has it really been that long?” Elizabeth laughed. “I’m not a nun and Jeff’s certainly no monk. We were enjoying ourselves. You interrupted us in London all those years ago. So let’s just say we made up for lost time. I’m not in business with Jeff. Our relationship is based purely on pleasure.”

  The pain seared through Tracy like a hot poker. It wasn’t just Jeff, although God knew the thought of him with this cold, calculating, horrendous woman hurt like hell. It was the embarrassment. The shame. The truth was, it had been that long. After Jeff’s betrayal, Nicholas had filled the void left in Tracy’s heart. But the sexual side of her, the romantic, passionate life that had once meant so much to her? That had gone forever. Elizabeth Kennedy had taken it from her. That was what Tracy couldn’t forgive. It was that that made today a victory for Elizabeth, not for her. Elizabeth might be going to jail. But it was Tracy who was serving a life sentence with no parole.

  With a huge effort of will, she managed to control her emotions.

  “You say you care about Jeff. If that’s true, you should want to help clear his name.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t follow.”
<
br />   “Everyone knows you work with a partner.”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “This is me you’re talking to,” said Tracy. “At least three of the jobs you pulled off could not possibly have been done alone. I know that for a fact.”

  “And which three might those be? Hypothetically, of course. Your friends on the other side of that glass have nothing on me other than what they discovered tonight.” Elizabeth waved mockingly at the mirror. “Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

  Tracy said, deadpan, “Hong Kong, Chicago and Lima.”

  Elizabeth nodded but said nothing.

  “What if Rizzo’s right and your partner is the one killing these girls?”

  “He isn’t right.”

  “Are you sure? Because someone is killing them, Elizabeth. After each of your jobs. For all we know, he might be out there right now, looking for his next target.”

  Elizabeth looked thoughtful. There was a long pause. Jean Rizzo held his breath.

  Then Elizabeth said, “Let’s say I have a partner. And let’s say I give you his name. What do I get in return?”

  “You don’t get anything,” said Tracy. “Other than clearing Jeff of suspicion and potentially saving another woman’s life.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No deal. I want my lawyer here and a plea deal in place. I’ll serve no more than a year for tonight’s robbery. Sorry. Attempted robbery.” She bowed dramatically to the audience behind the mirror. “No other charges will be brought against me.”

  Tracy burst out laughing. “You’re out of your mind! They’ll never agree to that.”

  “Then they don’t get their name.”

  The door opened. Jean Rizzo asked Tracy to step out.

  In the anteroom, Tracy told the assembled agents, “You heard her. I tried, but without a deal she won’t talk. Not yet, anyway.”

  Milton Buck looked at his boss.“I say give her the deal.”

  Tracy’s eyes widened. “What? No! Are you insane? You’d let her walk away from this?”

  “She’s the monkey. I want the organ grinder.”

  “I agree.” Jean Rizzo’s voice was low but firm. “I’m sorry, Tracy, but Buck’s right. Elizabeth Kennedy hasn’t killed anyone. It’s her partner we need.”

  In desperation, Tracy turned to Special Agent Soltan. “You can have both. She’ll give you that name if you keep up the pressure. Maybe trade it for a shorter sentence . . . But a year? And dropping all charges? You’re just rolling over. She’s playing you! All we need is a little time.”

  “We don’t have time,” said Jean. “What if he’s in New York right now? He could kill again in hours.”

  Special Agent Soltan said, “Call her lawyer.”

  AFTER THAT, EVERYTHING HAPPENED so quickly, Tracy felt as if she were in a dream. Elizabeth’s attorney arrived within fifteen minutes. The deal was hammered out and signed in less time than it took one of the junior agents to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

  “I want the name,” Agent Buck said.

  Buck sat opposite Elizabeth and her lawyer in the interview room, making much of being back in charge. Jean Rizzo stood at the back of the room, a few feet from Tracy. Tracy’s face was set like flint. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Jean.

  He promised me Elizabeth would go to jail. He promised me, if I helped him find her, he would put her away. I trusted him and he lied to me.

  Milton Buck went on. “I want every scrap of information you have about him. I want dates, I want times, I want details. On every job. And I want to know where he is right now.”

  “You can have the name and the details. But I don’t know where he is right now.”

  Agent Buck stiffened. “Are you for real?”

  “I haven’t seen him face-to-face in almost three years.”

  “You’re a liar!”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “We’re all liars when we need to be, Agent Buck. But this happens to be the truth. We communicate by e-mail and occasionally by phone. It’s business. We aren’t friends. If we were, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I am capable of loyalty, you know, whatever the saintly Miss Whitney may think.”

  Tracy looked away.

  “In any case, that’s my offer. You can take it or leave it.”

  Jean Rizzo was getting antsy. “For Christ’s sake, Buck. We don’t have time for this.”

  “Fine,” Milton Buck barked. “Give me the name.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her attorney, who nodded.

  “My partner is actually an old acquaintance of Tracy’s. Funny how closely our lives have become intertwined, isn’t it?”

  Despite herself, Tracy looked up.

  “His name”—Elizabeth paused for effect—“is Daniel Cooper.”

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER 19

  DANIEL COOPER WAITED PATIENTLY for the captain to turn off the seat-belt sign. Then he pushed his economy seat back as far as it would go and snapped off a single square of Lindt chocolate in celebration, closing his eyes and savoring the sweetness as it melted on his tongue.

  All pleasure was sin, of course. Over the years, Daniel Cooper had learned to rein in most of his baser human desires. I am a vessel of justice, a pure servant of the Lord. And yet he knew he was still not worthy. Not yet. When he became worthy, when he’d fully atoned for his sins, the Lord would deliver Tracy Whitney to him. He felt sure that that day was moving ever closer. Tracy—his Tracy, his soul mate—was coming to him at last. All those years he’d thought she was dead! Or if not dead then disappeared, gone, lost to him forever. But he’d been wrong. The Lord had given him another chance. Daniel intended to grab that chance with both hands.

  Beneath the cover of his airline blanket, Daniel Cooper started to touch himself.

  God had called Daniel Cooper to hunt down lawbreakers and bring them to justice, but society had other ideas. When Daniel tried to join the New York City police force he had been rejected. Officially he was deemed too short, but in reality Daniel knew that his assessors simply didn’t like him. They found him creepy. When the FBI also rejected him, but accepted far less qualified candidates in his class, Daniel hacked into his psychiatric evaluation. Highly intelligent. Lacking empathy. Deceitful. Someone had added a handwritten note: borderline psychotic?

  With law enforcement closed to him, Daniel Cooper worked first as a private investigator and later as an employee of an insurance company, tracking down defrauders. It was in this latter capacity that he first crossed paths with Tracy Whitney.

  Daniel Cooper believed he could save Tracy Whitney. God had told him so in dream after dream, even as the devil tempted him with unclean thoughts about Tracy’s body. Daniel made it his personal mission to catch Tracy and bring her to justice. But throughout her long career as a con artist, she had eluded him time and time again. First by herself, and later with the appalling Jeff Stevens, she mocked all her would-be captors. In their arrogance, police forces across the globe underestimated Tracy Whitney. Daniel Cooper tried to warn them—in Madrid, in London, in New York, in Amsterdam. But like the Pharisees, they remained blinded with pride. And so the evildoers triumphed.

  It was Amsterdam that changed everything.

  Tracy and Jeff had stolen the Lucullan Diamond, smuggling it out of the city by homing pigeon. Weeks of surveillance and planning by Daniel Cooper had been for naught. This time it was the moronic Inspector van Duren who had let Whitney slip through Cooper’s net. Daniel would never forget the way Tracy stopped at the boarding gate at Schiphol Airport, turned to him and waved. Waved. Tracy Whitney had looked right into his eyes and seen his secrets. It was in that moment that the bond between them had been cemented.

  What God has joined together, let no man cast asunder.

  Daniel Cooper had looked back at Tracy Whitney on that fateful day and seen something
in her eyes that he could neither forgive, nor forget: pity. Tracy Whitney—thief, goddess, whore—had dared to feel sorry for him.

  It was not to be borne.

  God was sending him a message that day. Clearly, he had not atoned sufficiently for his sins. He had not paid a high enough price. Tracy was to be his salvation and he hers, but he did not yet deserve her. There was more work to be done.

  Daniel Cooper resigned from the insurance company the next day. He would begin by humiliating the police and authorities who had allowed Tracy to escape so many times through their arrogance and pride. And lo, the proud will be made humble and the humble raised high. From his years spent chasing Tracy across Europe, Daniel Cooper knew better than anyone just how easy it was to outwit dummy local law enforcement. As for Interpol, the entire organization was a joke! Just like the Federal Bureau of Ineptitude. Daniel would enjoy outsmarting them, just as Tracy had done. Only Daniel’s heists would be even bigger, even grander, even better executed than Tracy’s.

  Tracy Whitney and Jeff Stevens had taught him how useful a woman could be as a lure in scams, disabling weak, carnally corrupted men. Preferring to work in the shadows himself, Daniel Cooper began scouting around for a suitable female partner.

  He found Elizabeth Kennedy by chance, through a contact in London. She was very young, perhaps nineteen, sexually alluring and utterly amoral. Perfect, on paper. When Daniel Cooper met her in person, in a café in Shoreditch, he found her devoid of human emotion or at least of feminine frailty. Fresh out of Youth Custody, where she’d been sent for credit-card fraud—rather an ingenious case in Daniel Cooper’s opinion, in which she’d been unlucky to get caught—Elizabeth was mature, intelligent and focused. Of equal importance, she was willing to accept Daniel Cooper’s authority in exchange for a steady stream of work and a fifty-fifty share of the profits.

  For the first couple of years, the partnership worked flawlessly. Daniel and Elizabeth planned and executed a string of jewel and art thefts around the globe, closely following the successful Whitney-Stevens model. But they were better than Tracy and Jeff. They worked harder, aimed higher and made more money. It was astonishing how quickly they became rich.