It seemed to take forever for the creaking old elevator to descend all the way to the lobby.
Finally, back out in the sun and bright air of Seventy-second Street, Jill made herself walk at a normal pace away from the apartment building toward Columbus Circle. Her breath came fast and uneven, in tiny gusts that she couldn't control. Her mind danced from one possibility to another, not liking any of them.
Now that she had this information, what was she going to do with it?
She remembered what mad Madeline had told her that day in her apartment: 'They'll learn about what's going on and see that any investigation stops. And that I'll be killed. And now that I've talked to you, that you'll be killed.'
'You're halfway to nothing already.'
28
Palmer Stone's desk phone played the first seven notes of 'I've Got You Under My Skin.' That meant his direct line.
That meant something important. Only certain people possessed that number: his most trusted employees, and a few privileged clients. The clients were supposed to use it only in the direst circumstances. At a certain point, they were to destroy the paper it was written on and then forget it.
Stone was in his midfifties but trim and still handsome. His tailored gray suit was Armani, his tie Hermes, his shoes John Lobb. His full head of dark hair was expensively cut and salt and pepper at the temples. He had features that were craggy yet amiable rather than noble, with a smile that dazzled. If he was an actor, he could play the president of the United States. If he didn't drool or speak like an idiot, he could become the president of the United States.
Palmer Stone didn't drool, and he spoke with calm reason in a moderated tone. He was as suave as he looked. But he had no interest in the presidency. It didn't pay enough.
He picked up his desk phone on the third ring. 'Palmer Stone here.'
'This is Maria Sanchez, Stone.'
An angry female voice, one he'd heard only a few times before. He didn't think he'd ever hear her or speak to Maria Sanchez again. Like his other special clients, she no longer existed except on paper and as electronic pixels.
He didn't get a chance to ask her why she was calling, what was wrong.
'I thought you told me that Madeline bitch was dead,' she said.
'Maria! It's good to hear from you.'
'I thought-'
'Please don't worry, really. Ms. Scott is no longer a problem. I can assure you of that.'
'Funny, I don't feel assured.'
'There is only one genuine Madeline Scott, and you are she.'
'Sometimes I don't goddamned feel like it, and that's creeping me out. I got on the elevator this morning in my building and some bitch was waiting to go up. I had the feeling she'd been standing there a long time, and she had this weird look on her face. Then she got off on my floor, put on a transparent act of going to another apartment at the opposite end of the hall, and watched me enter mine.'
'You're saying she looked like Madeline?'
'No, no! Listen to me, Stone. She was definitely giving me a close look, like it meant something to her, and I'm sure we never met before.'
'Well, you're a beautiful woman, Maria. Even more beautiful now.'
'She wasn't looking at me that way. She was…'
'What?'
'Scared of me. I'm sure of it. I've been around fear. I could smell it on her.'
'Why would she be frightened of someone like you?'
'I can think of only one reason.'
'What you describe might have been mostly your imagination, about this woman being so interested in you. It's natural. We've seen it in other clients. You couldn't look more like…who you are now. It's not uncommon to have doubts at this stage of the game. Things started out a little unevenly, but we soon got them under control. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about.'
'Maybe you just think they're under control.'
'Maria-Madeline, listen to me. When I tell you the other Madeline is gone for good, believe me. I can't give you the details and you don't want to know them, but you have my sincere promise.'
There was only silence from the phone at his ear.
'Do you feel better, Madeline? Is my promise good enough?'
'I don't know,' she said and broke the connection.
Stone hung up and sat drumming his manicured fingernails on the arm of his chair. Maria Sanchez had turned out to be a skittish one, which was a surprise. E-Bliss.org had been assured she was the sort who seldom got rattled. Now here she was acting out of character.
Of course, what he'd told her was the truth. It was natural for special clients to be nervous and suspicious immediately after the identity exchange. They soon got over their fears once they settled in as who they had become.
The odds that the woman on the elevator actually suspected anything were long. The odds that someone in Maria Sanchez's position might think so were short.
There was nothing to worry about if only he could get his client to realize it and feel safe.
While he was at it, Palmer Stone made it a point to stop thinking of her as Maria Sanchez.
'Madeline Scott,' he actually muttered under his breath, as he pushed Maria Sanchez from his consciousness.
Madeline Scott, the first and original, had had E-Bliss.org almost exactly right in her conversation with Jill. The legitimate matchmaking service was a protective shell for an operation that provided something similar to a witness protection program for those who could afford it. Its clients were mostly the wives or lovers of organized crime figures whose own lives and/or considerable fortunes were in danger because of competing mob elements or the law. Occasionally a client was concerned only with disappearing for his or her own sake. These clients, who would eventually take other clients' identities, were referred to in conversation and in E-Bliss.org files as special clients, to distinguish them from the bulk of legitimate clients, who often did find love, lasting or otherwise.
The special client would make obvious a move out of the country or into deep cover and instead take the place of another E-Bliss.org client who'd been culled with a computer program and carefully researched. Fees included teaching and coaching the special client to move smoothly into the new identity. The old identity would remain at large, while the basis for the new identity was murdered. The special client, who for safety's sake had severed all ties with E-Bliss.org, would wait patiently in hiding to assume the life of the victim client. News of the torso (useless in identification) being found was the signal that the switch in identities was complete; it was time to move into the client's apartment. Usually, as a precaution, the new identity would soon move out of the building, leaving a note and making sure the rent was covered. Officially, no one was missing.
This was a business model Palmer Stone had worked on for a long time before putting it into practice. It was a business model that worked.
That's why the phone call from Maria-Madeline-was particularly irritating.
It had been a mistake jumping the gun and letting a special client take over an identity before it was actually available. E-Bliss.org had made the exception in Maria Sanchez's case because she was an especially important, and demanding, client. And there had been a great deal of money involved. Who could have guessed the client to be deleted would somehow escape?
Well, nothing to be done about it now.
Stone didn't exactly forget about the new Madeline's nervousness, but he put it aside in a separate compartment of his mind. He'd always regarded compartmentalization as one of the most valuable business skills. He had other things to think about right now. Like printouts of the latest client profiles on the corner of his desk,
