Until a mid-morning phone call struck Braun’s interest, not because it was about Jack Ming. No. It was about Sam Capra.

Braun called the sisters. He hoped they could contain their crazy long enough to do the job the exact way he wanted it done. He got Lizzie on the phone. He would have preferred Meggie. She was the more reasonable one. But you didn’t put off Lizzie. She held grudges.

Lizzie listened to his instructions. ‘The two men, Ming and Capra. Can we play with them for a while?’ The sisters had a cabin in upstate New York where they entertained special guests when the need took Lizzie, or when Braun needed someone interrogated, with guaranteed results.

‘If you needn’t kill them straight out, they’re yours. I would like to know what they both know. Get that out of them and report back to me.’

‘What about anyone else with them?’

He thought of August, with regret. ‘You can kill anyone else if need be. If there is a woman named Mila with him, I want proof of her death.’ The sisters needn’t know about the bounty. He would collect it himself, throw them a little bonus.

Lizzie laughed. ‘Thanks for the work.’

She hung up and looked at her sister. ‘Go get dressed. We have a lead on the job.’

‘All right, but you promised to make those phone calls about the cruise.’ Her sister Meggie stood up from the couch. She had been reading a Special Projects file on Sam Capra that Braun had just emailed her. Know thy enemy.

‘Yes, yes,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll get to it.’

‘Don’t put it off,’ Meggie said. ‘They book up like a year in advance.’

‘Cruises are for old people,’ Lizzie said.

‘That is completely untrue.’

‘They keep a morgue on those boats because so many old people die during cruises. I saw that on TV,’ Lizzie said.

The sisters considered this interesting tidbit.

‘You are not going to have fun on a cruise. I mean, that kind of fun,’ Meggie said. ‘Parameters for today?’

‘Capture if we can, kill if we must. Capra’s sort of a pretty boy, don’t you think?’

‘Not really.’

‘His file says he runs parkour. That daredevil running where you jump from building to building.’ Lizzie’s smile sparkled. ‘Do you think I’ll get to chase him? I better use a weapon that helps me catch him.’

‘No.’ Meggie rolled her eyes. ‘He won’t get a chance to run. Let’s focus, Lizzie.’

‘Your standards are far too high,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not every apple has to be perfect, you got to give it a big bite to see how sweet it tastes.’ She glanced over at her sister’s laptop screen, at Sam Capra’s photo looking out at her. Brownish-blond hair, green eyes, high cheekbones, a full mouth. ‘I like his face. It would take a lot of time and careful thought to ruin it, truly. Those cheekbones, probably you’d need a touch of acid for them. And that runner’s body, lovely and spare. Braun had said I could play with them if we aren’t forced to kill them outright.’

Meggie didn’t care much for the fixated tone in her sister’s voice. This was always the way with Lizzie: an idea elbowed its way to the front of her mind and bit down in Lizzie’s brain with deep teeth, and wouldn’t let go until it was appeased. Her sister’s hungers were dark ones.

‘Guns?’

‘Naturally, but if we want to keep them for a while I don’t want to deal with gunshot wounds. Bandages are such a pain. I’m in kind of a Japanese mood today.’

‘Fine, but I don’t want you playing all week, you said you would research a cruise and book it.’

‘Fine, whatever. I’ll pack along the brochures.’

42

Ming Properties office, Lower Manhattan

My lucky day, Beth Marley thought. She’d already dodged a bullet: the other two employees in the office were out today, downed with food poisoning brought on by a highly questionable chicken curry they’d eaten while lingering at an unforgivably long lunch yesterday, one that Beth hadn’t gone on because, you know, she was too busy doing all three of their jobs.

And now this. Beth Marley tapped the stack of papers straight on her desk and thought: well, I can’t wait to tell Sandra that I might lease an entire building. Then Empress Ming’d have to get her ladder and climb down off my ass.

Beth canceled her lunch with her best friend via her BlackBerry, apologizing profusely, and saying that she might pay her back with drinks later in celebration of a big deal. And this would show Sandra Ming she could seriously handle the work: Mrs Ming always looked at her as though she weren’t quite sure Beth could tie her shoes much less manage properties around the city.

She sat down at her computer, summoned up the web browser, Googled Sam Capra. She got a number of hits relating to some poor guy getting killed in Afghanistan, with a brother who had granted a couple of interviews as the family spokesman; probably not related to this client. Not a lot on him. Hmmm. She Googled The Last Minute and found the bar’s website. She’d met girlfriends there for drinks a couple of times. Well, if he was thinking of a bar in the building, it would probably be high-dollar. The Last Minute was a well done space, clearly money had been dropped on it. She picked up the phone to call Sandra, and then decided to wait until she actually had good news. If she told Sandra she had a fish on the line but then didn’t reel it in, she’d never hear the end of it.

She was gathering her purse and her phone to leave when the office door opened. Which was weird, because there was an electronic passkey and you couldn’t just open the door. Oh, she thought, as two women stepped inside. I must not have shut it all the way. They were both stunning. One was blonde, hair pulled up into a bun, tall, with cool green eyes and cheekbones that Beth instantly coveted. The other was a brunette, with lovely chocolate eyes, her hair trimmed into a stylish short cut. Beth instantly wanted to ask: where do you get your hair done? Both women were, oddly though, dressed identically, in form-fitting gray pinstripe suits, and silky black dress shirts.

Beth couldn’t think of women who voluntarily dressed alike. She thought: missionaries?

‘Hi, may I help you?’ she said.

One of the women shut the door behind her. The other stood in front of Beth’s desk and smiled. ‘Yes. Are you Ms Marley?’

‘Yes.’

‘Super.’ She gave a bright smile in return. ‘This is what we’re going to need from you. Your cell phone, your car keys and the keys to the building in Williamsburg. Also, the alarm access code. Is there a closet where we can lock you up?’

Beth gave a nervous, uncertain laugh. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘No. We’re keeping your appointment at the building. So. Cell phone, please, and the closet would be where?’

‘Get the fuck out of here!’ Beth reached for the desk phone. Security was one press of the button away.

The brunette slammed a fist into Beth’s face. Hard. Beth had never been hit in the face in her life and the pain astonished her. Another blow to her throat cut off her scream, a third busted her nose. Faster than she would have thought, the brunette was over the desk and one hand was on her mouth, the other on her throat. Crushing against her windpipe.

‘Listen to me. I don’t wish to kill you. We have a phone tap on you, so we know you’re meeting Sam Capra. It would be really pointless for you to die over a cell phone and an appointment. Yes?’

Beth nodded, too dazed to cry, her nose bleeding, her mouth covered by the woman’s hand. The pressure on her windpipe eased very slightly.

‘In fact, you won’t die. Instead my sister will go kill your seven-year-old daughter in Ridgewood, and I will go

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