every waking second.
With the extra security checks on Lopezâs account, the funds transfer couldnât take place until tomorrow. That meant another twenty-four hours in the Sea Cliff house: twenty-four hours she couldnât afford, because time was running out.
It had been two days since she had confronted Cesar about Lopez. According to her most optimistic timetable, she had one day left at most before Lopez discovered that she knew.
The only problem was Esther wasnât an optimist; she was a realist. Even if Cesar didnât cave, Lopez would unmask her. He had already demonstrated his predatory brilliance in the business arena. To achieve that result he had concentrated all of his attention on Cesar, not her, but the dinner party had signaled a change. She realized now that Lopez had been there specifically to observe her.
The second he focused that cold, precise intellect on the years she had spent in Bern, he would find out what Bessel Holt had employed her to do. He would realize that she had been instrumental in blocking a huge transaction made by his father and facilitated by Perez; that it had been her job to identify criminals.
That, potentially, there was no one more dangerous on American soil to the Chavez cartel.
Five
T he tape in her purse, sealed in an envelope, ready to be dropped off at an address Xavier had given her, Esther slid behind the wheel of Jorgeâs aging Chevy and nosed down the drive. Maybe she was paranoid, but her own silver-gray Saab was distinctive, and it had passed through her mind that Lopez could be having her watched or even followed.
Cesar was out all day, supposedly at a meeting at the construction site of the development that had fallen through. Before she had left the house, Esther had checked with his secretary and found out that he hadnât showed. In fact he hadnât made an appearance at the office at all. If she had needed any further confirmation that she was out of options, that had been it. Cesar didnât normally let any detail of a business deal slip by unchecked, let alone miss appointments.
After dropping off the package in the lobby of an anonymous block of apartments, Esther drove around the steep, picturesque suburbs of Russian Hill until it was time to pick Rina up from school. The slow circling of blocks, aside from filling time, had also given her the opportunity to check if she was being followed. So far, she hadnât noticed anything suspicious. Minutes later, with Rina strapped into the front passenger seat, Esther took a left onto Leavenworth instead of turning onto California Street, heading for the expressway and home. According to Cesarâs file on Lopez, he lived barely five minutes from Rinaâs school.
Checking out Lopezâs address was a risk, but it was one that needed to be taken. Just because Lopez claimed he lived at an address didnât mean he actually did. She needed to find out for certain where he lived so she could give the details to the police. Once Xavier transferred the funds out of Lopezâs account, the window for physically apprehending Lopez would be small. If the police didnât move quickly and raid the right address straight off, Lopez would slip the net.
There was no guarantee that doing a drive-by of his house would enable her to verify anything but she had to try. At this time of day, with the streets crammed with cars ferrying children home from school and driving Jorgeâs Chevy, she would be close to invisible.
Esther took a turn onto Hyde and slowed as she counted numbers. She wanted to get a good look at the property as she drove past, and she could only risk doing it once.
Slowing even further as the number loomed, Esther craned, looking over Rinaâs head in an effort to see a vehicle or anything else that might indicate that Lopez actually lived there.
An ornate set of wrought-iron gates guarded the entrance, but otherwise, the property wasnât what she
With the extra security checks on Lopezâs account, the funds transfer couldnât take place until tomorrow. That meant another twenty-four hours in the Sea Cliff house: twenty-four hours she couldnât afford, because time was running out.
It had been two days since she had confronted Cesar about Lopez. According to her most optimistic timetable, she had one day left at most before Lopez discovered that she knew.
The only problem was Esther wasnât an optimist; she was a realist. Even if Cesar didnât cave, Lopez would unmask her. He had already demonstrated his predatory brilliance in the business arena. To achieve that result he had concentrated all of his attention on Cesar, not her, but the dinner party had signaled a change. She realized now that Lopez had been there specifically to observe her.
The second he focused that cold, precise intellect on the years she had spent in Bern, he would find out what Bessel Holt had employed her to do. He would realize that she had been instrumental in blocking a huge transaction made by his father and facilitated by Perez; that it had been her job to identify criminals.
That, potentially, there was no one more dangerous on American soil to the Chavez cartel.
Five
T he tape in her purse, sealed in an envelope, ready to be dropped off at an address Xavier had given her, Esther slid behind the wheel of Jorgeâs aging Chevy and nosed down the drive. Maybe she was paranoid, but her own silver-gray Saab was distinctive, and it had passed through her mind that Lopez could be having her watched or even followed.
Cesar was out all day, supposedly at a meeting at the construction site of the development that had fallen through. Before she had left the house, Esther had checked with his secretary and found out that he hadnât showed. In fact he hadnât made an appearance at the office at all. If she had needed any further confirmation that she was out of options, that had been it. Cesar didnât normally let any detail of a business deal slip by unchecked, let alone miss appointments.
After dropping off the package in the lobby of an anonymous block of apartments, Esther drove around the steep, picturesque suburbs of Russian Hill until it was time to pick Rina up from school. The slow circling of blocks, aside from filling time, had also given her the opportunity to check if she was being followed. So far, she hadnât noticed anything suspicious. Minutes later, with Rina strapped into the front passenger seat, Esther took a left onto Leavenworth instead of turning onto California Street, heading for the expressway and home. According to Cesarâs file on Lopez, he lived barely five minutes from Rinaâs school.
Checking out Lopezâs address was a risk, but it was one that needed to be taken. Just because Lopez claimed he lived at an address didnât mean he actually did. She needed to find out for certain where he lived so she could give the details to the police. Once Xavier transferred the funds out of Lopezâs account, the window for physically apprehending Lopez would be small. If the police didnât move quickly and raid the right address straight off, Lopez would slip the net.
There was no guarantee that doing a drive-by of his house would enable her to verify anything but she had to try. At this time of day, with the streets crammed with cars ferrying children home from school and driving Jorgeâs Chevy, she would be close to invisible.
Esther took a turn onto Hyde and slowed as she counted numbers. She wanted to get a good look at the property as she drove past, and she could only risk doing it once.
Slowing even further as the number loomed, Esther craned, looking over Rinaâs head in an effort to see a vehicle or anything else that might indicate that Lopez actually lived there.
An ornate set of wrought-iron gates guarded the entrance, but otherwise, the property wasnât what she
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