Jack had finished talking with Bingham, and he piped up. “She’s incredibly attractive. Maybe French/Moroccan/Slavic. Chet McGovern here was panting like a dog.”

McGovern took the phone from Laurie.

“I’d say she’s more likely Italian. Dark skin, like olive color. Soft features, dark brown eyes. Gorgeous, like a supermodel. She told me her name is Grazdani, that’s all. You think she’s in danger?”

Laurie snatched back the phone.

“Lou, it’s Laurie again. Remember I said she’s a fourth-year medical student at Columbia.”

“Good point,” Lou said. “If we’re lucky, we might be able to get a picture from Columbia, if she actually goes to Columbia. Now, you guys have to zip your lips. Keep me posted if anything happens. I gotta go, Laurie. I’ll be putting a task force together including the NYPD organized-crime unit. This is serious, Laurie. This has organized crime written all over it. And it has to somehow involve the Russians. Jesus, Laurie, that polonium stuff is associated with nuclear weapons.”

Chapter 51.

51.

BROADWAY, IN FRONT OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 25, 2011, 6:45 P.M.

Pia emerged from the subway at the same entrance she’d used on her way to the OCME, pausing near the MTA area map in the shadow of the Columbia Medical Center’s art deco buildings. She’d raced out of the medical examiner’s office with her head spinning. It was dark, the streets were wet and slick, and there seemed to be hundreds of people on the sidewalks. Pia couldn’t face going all the way across town in the rain despite her umbrella so she took a different route, walking to Park Avenue South and the Twenty-eighth Street station on the 6 line, then traveling to Grand Central and taking the S train, the shuttle across town to Times Square. There she had taken the A express train up to Washington Heights.