Page 5 (1/2)

He was paralyzed with shock and worry

He’d walked into a Chinatown restaurant to meet his partners, men who also happened to be his oldest friends It wasn’t a social dinner It was a strategy session All their necks were on the line—even the two of them who hadn’t been at the crime scene—and it had been crucial that they nail down the details of the story they’d be giving to the FBI during their individual interrogations No hesitations No deviations It was the only way

Matthew had arrived late and on edge

But he’d left panicked, punched in the gut with the very basis for thissince buried—or had tried to Suddenly, the past was the present No Worse Because nohat he feared for was his life

He’d stepped out for a s directly in front of the Cadillac Escalade, not fifteen feet frouys, who looked like thugs and were built like linebackers, had gotten out of the Escalade and waited on the sidewalk as the driver of the Mercedes, burly and Asian, hurried around to open the back door for his passenger

Thedwarfed in size by the linebackers He’d greeted theuard—to be glued to his side, and then led the way, keeping his head down as he walked

He raised it just as he reached Matthew He stopped A long nition had been mutual and indisputable

It wason borrowed time

He was barely aware of greeting the doorh-rise on York Avenue and Eighty-second Street On autopilot, he summoned the elevator, then rode upstairs as he berated hi a prisoner to his own stupidity

The elevator doors slid open, and he headed toward the apartht now

He unlocked the front door and flipped on the light as he stepped inside His gaze swept the living area, and he froze in his tracks

The place was trashed, furniture shoved aside, empty recesses left where the flat-screen TV and entertainment center had been Kitchen draere dumped upside down, minus all the unique Art Deco silverware they’d contained Two handcrafted sculptures that Matthew had bartered for in Thailand wereover the sofa, and the one-of-a-kind ivory chess set he’d bought in India And one of Rosalyn’s dia been dropped That meant they’d been in their bedroom and cleaned out her jewelry box

None of thatThat’s why they’d come The rest was just bonus They’d broken in because of the painting

Not the Monet It was one of his lesser knoorks, not one of hisitself, but its paperwork That as invaluable And tiht

He flung down the portfolio he’d been holding and raced to his office—where he’d find his answer