27. CASSANDRA

I’m at the stage where faces are starting to look familiar, which means it’s time to up my game.

It’s not easy to keep track of them all. In my work, I always had a database to reference, teams of analysts forwarding me data, or a surveillance control with access to satellites or other means of tracking and identifying people.

In the Chase, all I have is my wits. I’m not allowed to use any work-related technology. Even if I could, I’d be hard-pressed to pull it off without my former employers finding out.

That would mean my father finding out, and I definitely don’t feel like explaining the Chase to him. Somehow, I just don’t think he’d understand. Hard to say which would mortify him the most: the fact I was selling my virginity, or the fact I was taking money from the Russian mob.

Honestly, I don’t know which side bothers me more.

The curtains part as the lights go down, and suddenly the stage is full of nerdy men in black pants, short-sleeved white shirts and black ties. They’re singing a song called “Hello” to the packed house, and it’s hilarious enough to make me forget about the Chase for a few minutes.

This afternoon matinee of The Book of Mormon is a rare opportunity to slip into darkness and out of the line of fire for a couple of hours. I’m surrounded by people giggling their way through the number as the actors portray Mormon missionaries trying to charm their way into the homes of potential converts.

The show continues along that vein, and I keep on laughing along with the crowd. This is a welcome respite from the stress of the last several days. It’s almost as pleasant as looking at the balance in my Cayman account this morning: $1.5 million.

For six days of work.

Finally, we reach the intermission and the lights come up. My instincts kick in and I immediately scan the theater. Nothing sets off any alarms, but in such a crowded place, it’s best to keep moving.

There are four separate lines for the bar, all long enough that I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get a drink before the lights go down again. But it gives me an opportunity to stand in one place for a while and look bored. Hiding in plain sight.

I check my watch repeatedly, keeping up with the others around me. There’s a large contingent of what I assume are Asian tourists to my right, chatting in Mandarin.

Then I look to my left and I feel adrenaline rush into my system. I’ve seen the squat, balding man in the line to my left, two spots ahead, several times in the last few days. He’s hard to miss, with the nest of auburn hair circling the dome of his head and squinty eyes that look like he’s perpetually staring into the sun.

He was at Patty’s two afternoons ago and I saw him again outside Carnegie Hall, both of which are on the list of places I provided to the organizers of the Chase. I don’t recognize his face from Forbes, but going from memory has never been my strong point.

I have to assume he’s onto me.

The couple in front of me look at their watches and sigh loudly before leaving the line. Suddenly I’m beside the bald man.

An idea comes to me just as he turns his head in my direction.

I roll my eyes and reach into my purse, pulling out my phone. I angrily stab the screen, as if to answer a call.

“What?” I snap. “Can’t I have five minutes peace?”

The man glances around the line, not focusing on me.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” I grouse into the phone. “She has to be there, the recital ended ten minutes ago.”

Next thing I know, I’ve locked eyes with him. He looks at me for a beat before I give him my best NYC “the fuck you lookin’ at?” expression.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I say, turning away from him. “Some idiot was trying to hit on me. Listen, I don’t have time for this. She’s probably talking to Janey.”

I raise my voice. “Janey! How do you not know what she looks like? She’s been to our place a dozen times!” Exasperated sigh. “You know what, I don’t have time for this. Figure it out! The curtain’s going to go up in a minute and I didn’t even get my wine.”

I poke the screen again, toss the phone into my purse and storm back toward the theater entrance. As people mill past, I do a button hook and head back out on the other side of the crowd. I stop in an alcove near the entrance to the ladies room and take up a surveillance position.

My eyes follow the bald man as he scans the room in frustration. Finally he looks at his watch and shakes his head. With a dejected look, he heads for the exit.

I wait several minutes before going back into the line at the bar. If I didn’t need a drink before, I definitely need one now. That was one hell of a close shave.

With the second half of the show underway, the line has thinned out considerably and I manage to find a spot at the counter right away.

“What can I get you?” the girl asks. She’s dressed like a man, with a bow tie and black vest.

“Chardonnay, please,” I say, digging out my wallet. “The biggest glass you’ve got.”

She fills a nine-ounce glass and slides it over to me.

“That’ll be $16.50,” she says.

Call the cops! Even with a million plus in the bank, I wince at the price.

“I’ve got it,” says a familiar voice behind me.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I turn around to see the familiar face that goes with the voice. That chiseled chin and sweeping blond hair, those smoky gray eyes.

“Hello, Cassie,” he says.

I play it cool, even though nothing could be further from the truth. My heart is pounding. I feel like my ribcage could explode at any moment.

“Hello, Carson,” I say. “Long time no see.”