“Well, how do you explain this?” Pia gestured to herself. “I was attacked,” she yelled. “I was ordered to stay away. Now I’m sure Rothman was killed. His death wasn’t accidental, it was deliberate. The only thing I’m not sure of is why they didn’t kill me too last night rather than just warn me. They must be more afraid of how people would react to my disappearing than afraid that I wouldn’t respond to the warning. As they said, if I keep quiet, all this goes away. If I disappear, they talk to you and find out what I was thinking.”

George felt a sudden chill. If Pia was right, he might be next in line for a visit. But how could she be right? It was so far-fetched. George needed some time to think too.

“Can I get you some ice for your face? I’ll just be down the hall.”

“Sure, thanks.”

George went to the ice machine at the end of Pia’s corridor, but it was out of order. He could go down to the cafeteria where he knew ice was always available, but that meant leaving Pia on her own in her room for a few minutes. George walked back to her door and opened it, startling Pia.

“Shit, George, can’t you knock?” she said.

“Sorry. The ice machine’s out. I’m going downstairs to get some. I’ll be right back.”

Chapter 39.

39.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 25, 2011, 11:20 A.M.

George returned with the ice. Pia was sitting at her desk, writing furiously on yellow legal paper, trying to make sense of what had happened in the past forty-eight hours. George took some ice and wrapped it in a towel for Pia to hold to her face. The rest he put in her sink. He then sat on the bed and watched her write on page after page.

Pia tested her prodigious memory, trying to isolate fact from speculation. She worked backward from the undeniable fact that she’d been attacked and threatened in her own dorm room. That was obviously a criminal act—but what else of all the events of the past two days had constituted unlawful activity? While she worked on the what, she also worked on the who. She tried to piece together a cast of characters using the information she was certain about. There had been two men in her room—but who else was involved and how broad was the conspiracy she now knew existed?

After an hour, Pia stopped.

“This is getting me nowhere. It could be anyone. And there’s so much that’s happened, and I bet we don’t know the half of it.”

“What about trying to establish a timeline? Isn’t that what they do in those cop shows on TV? They use a whiteboard: ‘six forty-two P.M., suspect seen in O’Leary’s bar . . .’ ”