For Catherine

FOR CATHERINE

“This is for Catherine?” Majid said.

“Yes,” Rafe said. “For Catherine.” Repeating what he had texted back to Majid, which was why Majid had told Rafe to come right over, and why Majid still hadn’t replied to Stavro’s texts (although he didn’t need much encouragement to put off Stavro), and why Rafe had left the synagogue with the Nigerian and Frank’s people still there (although he had also been very strongly urged to get the fuck out by angry looks and gestures from both the banker and the tourist).

The bag of money sat on the floor between them, Majid at his desk and Rafe in the chair where Okoro had been.

“She’s being pressured,” Rafe said, “actually sort of blackmailed, by a client who wants it laundered. By Friday.”

“How do you know this?” Majid asked.

“She told me. She came to my place last night.”

“Last night?” Majid had texted Catherine last night, twice, early and late. She hadn’t responded.

Rafe nodded, knowing he hadn’t needed to share that detail, but had wanted to.

“And she feels compelled to do it? Why?”

“She can tell you about it if you call her. But she’s pretty upset.”

Too upset to talk to her current lover but not to one who was “ancient history”? But this was not a question Majid wanted to discuss with Rafe.

“What is this client sort of blackmailing her for?”

“He’s been laundering money through her at the bank. He says she’s complicit.”

“Is she?”

“He says he can make the case. Also . . .”

“What?”

“There’s a murder.”

Majid’s eyes widened. “A murder?”

“A possible murder,” Rafe amended.

“He’s saying Catherine killed someone?”

“No,” Rafe said. “But he might have.”

Majid took a breath. A client who was a murderer? There was a time, say two weeks ago, when he would have thought the idea far-fetched.

“He says Catherine is involved?”

“He’s saying crazy shit, but Catherine doesn’t want him saying anything. She wants to do this favor for him and make it go away, make him go away.”

Majid looked at the bag of money. “She came to you,” he said. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Do it how? I’m not a bank. I’m not a hedge fund.”

“You said you were a hedge fund. At the Harvard Club party. That’s what you said.”

“I said I was setting it up. Early days.”

“Fuck you,” said Majid. “That story you told me last time, about doing some favors for the government because you got in trouble. That’s all you’re doing, isn’t it? You’re working for the government.”