"I protect my girls. Whenever one of them gets into trouble, Gil's there, day or night, to get her out of it. You could say he's part of my extended family. -.."
As Diana spoke, Janek observed her closely. There was cunning in her eyes, he thought, and also a predatory gleam. Her soft looks and graceful speech were attractive, but still he felt repelled. Was it because of what Kirstin had told him, he wondered, or a diabolical aura the woman exuded, a force field of evil and stealth? As much as he found her catlike, he was also reminded, by the way she held herself in the corner of the car, of a predaceous female spider in the center of a web, trembling with anticipation as she observed the death throes of her prey.
"When I heard about the man who was killed downtown, naturally I was upset. Something like that isn't good for business. Then, when Kirstin … " She made a gesture of despair. "She'd been one of us, you see."
She paused again. "You must understand, Lieutenant. In my business-"
"Please, Ms. Cassiday"-he spoke clearly so that his tape recorder would pick up all his words-"don't tell me anything about your business. If you do I'll have to cut this short."
She gazed at him. "You want to ask specific questions?"
"That would make things easier."
She considered the proposal, then shook her head. "We'll do it my way.
I'll tell you a story. You can take it as a parable… or any way you like."
"Fine, we'll try that." He thought: With this woman, everything's a power play.
She puffed again, then began. Her phrasing was elegant, her voice subdued:
"About two and a half years ago an attractive young woman came to see me. A talented artist, she'd been referred by one of my employees.
This girl told me she wanted to learn the game. That's what we call what we do." Diana paused. "Well, I looked her over, asked her some questions, decided I liked her and agreed to break her in. As it turned out, she trained nicely. She had talent. I'd say she was a natural, if it's possible to use a tenn like that to describe somebody with a genius for our particular line of work. To make a long story short, within a few weeks she became my top producer. She seemed to know just what to do and her timing was always impeccable. It was as if she harbored a lot of anger, mostly hidden from view, but apparent when she let down her guard. Later, when I saw one of her sketches, I felt that anger again. I believe she used it to fuel herself. I asked her about that once. ' do you happen to be so good at the game?" She thought a bit before she answered. ' think it's because it's dangerous,' she replied."
Diana turned to Janek. "Finding this interesting, Lieutenant?"
"Fascinating." Diana purred, then continued with her story:
"After a few months I began to notice something else about this girl.
For us, you see, the game is a business, a way to make a living. But for her it was clearly more. She got something special out of it.
Exactly what, I'm not quite sure, but I think I'd be safe if I called it … pleasure. You see, Lieutenant, she genuinely liked the work, liked every single aspect of it. The power to seduce, the power to control.
She even enjoyed writing on their skins." Diana looked knowingly at Janek. "I assume you know what I'm talking about?"
"I do. But we won't discuss it."
Diana grinned. "Of course not!" She settled back. "This girl also had a special way of writing. She could write in mirror-reverse as quickly as any of the others could write in normal script. Amazing when you think about it." Diana paused. "She's the one you're looking for."
Janek nodded. "Where do I find her?"
"I don't know. She left me, set up shop for herself."
As Diana spoke, her manner changed. Whatever grace she'd displayed before gave way to a deeply felt fury. It was as if, Janek thought, a terrible blizzard had begun to blow in the middle of a summer day. He had no difficulty imagining Diana smiling as she raised a razor to punish one of her girls for recalcitrance.
"You resented that, of course," he said.
"She became a competitor. How would you have felt?"
"Probably the same."
"Disloyalty's disloyalty." Diana bit off the word. "Once she'd sucked me dry, she left without a fare-thee-well."
It was such a quaint expression, Janek could only smile. But Diana didn't notice; she was reliving Gelsey's betrayal.
"At first I was glad to be rid of the bitch. I like a girl with a good professional attitude. This one was just too passionate-if you know what I mean."
"Could you mean… too smart?"
She hummed. "Perhaps that, too."
"Look, Ms. Cassiday, it's urgent I talk to her. Why don't you just tell me where she lives?"
"You don't believe me, Lieutenant? The truth is I really don't know.
She was secretive about almost everything, especially her address. She even refused to give me her telephone number. I told her that wouldn't do, that she couldn't work for me unless she was reachable day or night.
But in the end it worked out. If I asked her to call and confirm an appointment, she never let me down." Diana shook her head. "A strange girl. Unique. She's obsessed with mirrors. That's where all that mirror writing comes from. She can't pass a mirror without gazing into it. But, funny thing, when she does, I don't think she looks at herself. "
"What does she look at?"
"The rest of us. I think she likes to look at us in mirrors rather than deal with us as we are." "And how are we?" Janek asked.
Diana laughed. "You're asking how I view my fellow man? This interview is turning out to be more interesting than I expected."
"So, what's your answer?"
Diana pondered. As she did, her eyes, it seemed to him, enlarged. "I suppose I see the world as a fairly pitiless place," she said carefully,
"where, in any encounter, one must move quickly for advantage knowing the other person most likely is doing the same. I admit it's not a pleasant vision, but I believe it's accurate. The will to power-or should I say overpower?-is, in my view, the most potent drive we have."
She paused. "Now that I've answered, do you mind if I ask a question of my own?"
"Go ahead." She paused. "There're rumors about this man who was killed downtown.
What was his name?"
"Dietz."
"Yes, Dietz. There's a rumor."
Janek went on guard. "What rumor?"
"That he was carrying something… valuable. Is it true?"
Janek shrugged. He decided to annoy her. "Where did you hear that?"
"It's all over town." Oh, you're slick. "What is?"
"The rumor."
Diana twitched. "That Gelsey took something valuable off of Dietz."
"What kind of ''?"
"Whatever – -."
"Is that why you think we're looking for her?"
"Is it?"
"Is that your question?"
"Not really."
Diana twitched again. He was happy to see he'd tied her in knots. Now he imagined she was calculating just how far she could push.
Janek searched her eyes. "Just what is your question, Ms. Cassiday Diana paused. "What did she take?"
"is that important to you?"
"I'm curious."
Janek stared at her, then he smiled. "Sorry," he said, "tonight I ask questions, I don't answer them."
In an instant her eyes went hard. She recoiled farther against the seat.
She was not, this tightened posture made clear, accustomed to being denied.
"Perhaps if you'd tell me why it's so important..
"Christ!" she exploded. "What's the big deal?"
"Is it a big deal? Is that why you're upset?"
"I'm not upset."
"You sound a lot more than curious."
"God, you're impossible! Do you have to be such a fucking-cop!"
He laughed. He'd broken her calm. "I think it's time for me to get out."
"Long past." She lifted the phone intercom from her console, ordered Ki
m to stop.
When Janek looked out the window he saw that they'd crossed to the East Village and were now at Tenth and Avenue C. It was not a good neighborhood, but he was happy to be making his escape. The car was too cold, Diana's perfume was too cloying and the lady had shown herself to be detestable.
He opened the door, stepped into the street, then leaned back in. Diana, deep inside her fur, glared at him from the far corner like a lynx.
"I'd be careful of my curiosity if I were you," he told her.
"Really?" Her eyes flashed. "Is that a warning?"
"Sometimes when people ask questions they give themselves away. Mr.
Thatcher should have told you that."
Diana stared at him a moment, then rapped on the partition. Kim gassed the engine and the great limousine leaped forward, leaving him alone in the middle of the street.
When he arrived home he found a message on his answering machine. Aaron begged him to phone, no matter the hour, to tell him how the meeting had gone. It was a typical Aaron request. When Janek called, Aaron picked up on the first ring.
"Frank?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"How'd it go?" "Chilly," Janek said.
"She's bad news, huh?"
"Poison."
"Figures. She tell you anything?"
"Not much. But maybe more than she thought. I've got an idea." He paused. "It's a long shot."
"Well, ain't they all, Frank," Aaron said. "And don't we always bet on them anyway?"
The next morning, with the squad assembled, Janek played back his tape of the Diana interview. Everyone was enthralled by the woman's voice.
"Very smooth," Sue commented.
"Smooth and toxic," Janek said. "So, what does she tell us?"
"She's too eager near the end," Sue said. "You toy with her and she doesn't pull back. You drive her nuts, and she still doesn't let go."
"How'd she know Dietz was carrying something? We've held that close,"
Ray said, stroking his mustache.
"Why do you think she's so eager?"
"Maybe… Kane." "Go on," Janek said.
Ray was excited. "If I were Diana and Kane got my name out of Kirstin, then came and offered me money to lead the way to Gelsey-I'd be desperate to know why."
"What would you think?"
"I'd think that if Gelsey had something worth killing for, I ought to cut myself in on the deal."
Janek nodded. "The way Diana acted with me doesn't prove she's been in touch with Kane, but it sure points that way. Remember the other day I said Kane had jumped ahead? Now I don't think he has. It's more like we're all at the same spot." I "Looking for Gelsey," Ray said.
Janek nodded again. "Kane wants to find her so he can get hold of the Omega. Diana's looking for her possibly to help Kane, and because so long as Gelsey's on the loose it's bad for business. As for us-" he paused, "we just want to save the girl's life."
"Whoever gets to her first wins," Aaron said. "So, how do we find her?"
"Think back over the tape. What else did Diana say?"
"She called Gelsey a ' artist,' " Sue said.
"Right. And she referred to a sketch. So, that's one more thing we know about the girl. Now let's review it all."
He went to the blackboard at the far end of the room, picked up a piece of chalk, wrote "GELSEY," then turned to the squad.
"We know her first name. An unusual name. A name people aren't likely to forget." He wrote: "FACE."
"We know what she looks like. We've got two police sketches with two different wigs."
He wrote: "MIRRORS."
"We know she's interested in mirrors. She can do mirror writing. She looks at mirrors all the time."
He wrote: "ARTIST."
"Put those four things together and what've we got? ' you heard of an artist named Gelsey who may work with mirrors? Here's her picture-take a look." " He paused. "We'll divide up the art community. Start with the galleries." He turned to Sue. "You and Ray take Soho. Aaron and I'll work the East Village. If that doesn't produce, we'll try Fifty-seventh and upper Madison, though I suspect she's a little young for uptown.
Point is, if she's a professional artist and she's shown her work around, we should be able to turn her up." He stared at them.
"Let's get on it."
Trudging through the East Village, making the rounds of its numerous little attic and storefront galleries, was not, Janek quickly discovered, much like visiting the Museum of Modern Art. Not only was the artwork itself not Comparable, but a lot of what he saw looked like the subway graffiti he abhor-red. But Janek didn't laugh at what he didn't understand. Rather, it aroused in him an awareness of his limitations and a sense that, however much New York had declined, it was still a magnet for young people who heeded a calling to create. So, he thought, perhaps that meant that his city still aspired to greatness, and that its underside, the awful parts he saw daily in his work, was not necessarily proof of the irreversibility of its fall.
Spending the better part of the day visiting galleries on East Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh streets, he reached home with weary eyes. He opened a beer, gulped it down, then took a long shower to relax. He was just stepping out when heard his telephone. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went into his bedroom to answer. It was Netti Rampersad. She said she was in the neighborhood, had some papers for him to sign and asked if she could drop by.
"Sure," he said, finding it interesting that she happened to be conveniently near. "Give me ten minutes to get dressed and straighten the joint. Then, if you're hungry, I'll order in Chinese." "Velly velly nice," she said in her Chinatown accent. Then, switching to her real voice: "Tell you what, Frank since you're supplying the hall, the least I can do is pick up the grub."
When she arrived twenty minutes later, she was loaded down. She had used her briefcase as a base to support a large cardboard box.
"Good thing you pump iron," Janek said as he lifted the heavy box from her arms and set it on his counter. He appraised her. She looked good, wearing a clinging dark green silk blouse and a worn pair of jeans. She smiled at him, then began to unpack the food.
He watched amazed as she pulled out numerous white cartons of carry-out.
She had bought moo shu pork with pancakes, General Tang's chicken, sweet and sour shrimp, lobster in black bean sauce, spare ribs, spring rolls, hot and sour soup and a large portion of noodles in sesame oil.
"I see we're into starch," he said. "By the way, are some of your friends dropping by?"
She laughed. "Anything we don't finish is yours to keep. "
"I don't think I can handle eating Chinese the rest of the week."
"Geez, Frank-Chinese people eat Chinese three times a day." She gazed at him, deadpan. "All year round, too." Amused, he set his coffee table with plates, napkins and chopsticks, while she transferred the delicacies onto serving platters. He broke out a couple of beers, then they sat down.
Netti, in the midst of chewing on a spare rib, gestured toward his workbench. "Those accordions-they your hobby?"
"They were my father's profession," he explained. "He had an accordion sales and repair shop, only one in the city, downtown on Lafayette.
Fixed instruments mostly, but he'd also fix radios, toasters, whatever got broken in the neighborhood. We lived above the store."
I ', do you just fix ', or do you play ', too?" "Oh, I can play '," he said. "But don't ask me. There's an old joke among accordion players: ' gentleman is a man who can play the accordion… but won't."
He noticed that she ate like a savage, which surprised him since she was so hard-bodied and lean. She grinned when she liked the taste of something and licked her lips afterward. Soon the aromas of ginger and garlic, sesame and soy transformed the air of his apartment.
"So," he said, gesturing toward her briefcase, "what do you want me to sign?"
"Copies of your pleading." She put down her rice bowl, fished out the papers. "In layman's language, your complaint. "
; "I suppose I ought to read it first."
"Absolutely."
He glanced at the papers, then put them down. He didn't feel like reading the sad saga of his barren marriage. "Hell with it," he said.
"Give me a pen?"
She produced a pen, showed him where to sign. Then something dripped off one of his chopsticks beside his signature.
"Uh-oh, spot of moo shu."
She blotted the stain with her napkin. "Don't sweat it. I've filed pleadings with a lot worse on them than this." She stuffed the executed documents back into her briefcase. "I'll have Doe file these first thing in the morning. Your wife'll be served by the end of the day."
"Ex-wife," Janek corrected her.
"Right. So, now we're done with business, how do you like the food?"
They devoured more of the carry-out than he would have thought possible, but there was still enough left to last him for days. While he washed the plates, she boiled water, added tea, then they settled back on his couch to sip and talk.
"I'd like to make a small confession," she said.
"Go ahead," he said. "But I don't promise to absolve you", She smiled.
"Not that kind. I haven't done anything wrong. At least not yet."
"So, what's the confession?" he asked.
She grinned, then looked down. It was the first time he'd seen her act demure. "I've had… impure thoughts."
"Oh, those!" He laughed but felt uneasy. He had a hunch where this tack of hers could lead.
"All right," she said, looking into his eyes, "I'll come clean. I'm feeling attracted to you, Frank. I'd like to get to know you better-if you follow my meaning." She smiled, then looked down again.
Very gracefully stated, he thought, but he wasn't sure how to respond.
She was undeniably attractive, quite capable of arousing his lust, and, he was certain, a real tigress in the sack. But he had doubts: Was she serious? Wasn't she too young? How might such an encounter end?
"I guess I should take that as a proposition," he said, stalling.
"I kinda wish you would."
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