Page 23 of Alex Cross Must Die

“Goin’ good,” the man said. He jerked his head toward Marple. “Found a woman.”

“Out of your league, clearly,” the bartender replied.

Marple smiled. “We’ll be in the booth at the end.” She put a twenty on the bar as she stood up. “Take the beer out of this and keep the change.”

The bartender grinned. “If he tries to steal your purse, just yell.”

Marple slid onto the narrow wood bench on one side of the booth. Finn slid onto the bench across from her. There was a small candle inside a thick glass bowl in the middle of the table. Marple pushed it to the side and leaned forward. Finn’s dark collar hung open to expose a small patch of his white T-shirt. In the dim light, it almost looked like the neckline of a vicar.

“Did you get what I sent?” Marple asked.

Finn put the bottle to his lips, took a sip of his beer. “Got it. Studied it.”

“And …?”

“It’s impossible.”

“Well, it happened,” said Marple. “I saw the safe myself.”

“No marks on it?”

“Pristine.”

“Then it’s an inside job. The guy stole his own books.”

Marple sipped her sherry. She was hearing exactly what she had expected to hear. But she wasn’t about to leave it there. “What about one of the new kids? Somebody with twenty-first-century skills. And advanced tools.”

Finn took another sip. “My tools always did me fine.”

“Your tools got you five years in the pokey.”

“True.” Finn sighed. “Pretty sunsets, though.”

“What about the design?” asked Marple.

“Maybe the Bahnhof guy,” said Finn.

“Bahnhof?”

Finn nodded. “Bahnhof’s the internet provider that used to host WikiLeaks’ servers—in an old nuclear bunker under Stockholm. One of the guys who designed their security system makes vaults and safes on the side. Sells them on the dark web. Maybe he built this one.”

“Somebody got into it in under ten minutes,” said Marple.

“Like I said, not possible. Not without a nuclear bomb.”

“Interesting,” said Marple. Finn was still on his game.

The bartender appeared with a fresh glass of sherry and a second bottle of Miller. “On the house,” he said. He picked up the empties and walked away.

“Is he your parole officer?” asked Marple.

“I fixed his mom’s transmission,” said Finn. “How about you? Still bird-watching?”

“I swear I saw a bald eagle from the train,” said Marple.

“Oh, yeah, they love the tracks,” said Finn. “Lots of rail kill.”

It was dark by the time Marple emerged onto the streets of Ossining. She was a little unsteady on her feet, and so was her companion.

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