“Who is this person?”

“His name is Geoffrey.”

“Geoffrey what?”

“When I knew him – this was nearly a year ago – he called himself Power, but I doubt that’s his name. I went through his wallet once, and I found three driver’s licenses, in different names.”

Amanda was alert now. “What were the other two names?”

“I don’t remember. I didn’t have any reason to, at the time; I figured they were aliases, too.”

“Geoffrey Power. Is Geoffrey his real first name?”

“I can’t swear to it, but I think so. I remember that the initial ‘G’ appeared in the names on all three licenses.”

“What does he have against Dick Hickock?”

“I don’t know, but I know what he has against me.”

“What?”

“After we stopped… seeing each other, I was very angry with him, and I did something that someone in my position should never do – I used the Infiltrator to get back at him.”

“How?”

“He was trying to make a career as an actor in L.A., and I assigned a reporter to call a couple of dozen casting directors and studios, and let drop that the Infiltrator was investigating him. Of course, no one would have anything to do with him after that. He left town and, I think, came to New York.”

“What does he look like?”

“Early to mid-thirties, tall, slender, but well-built, light brown hair, highlighted at the ends. He’s quite beautiful, actually.” Peebles sounded regretful.

Amanda had produced a notebook and was writing furiously. “Have you had him investigated? Really, I mean?”

“No; I’m afraid to. I’m afraid of what he’ll do.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has a somewhat unsavory background. He hinted at working for some government agency at one time, something secret. That may have been bragging, of course, but I don’t really doubt it. He seems to have all sorts of, well, skills that ordinary people never come by. And he has a violent streak.” Peebles blinked rapidly. “I’m terribly afraid of violence. Also, I can’t be seen by anyone to have had an interest in him. I’ve compromised myself too much already; my whole world is hanging by a slender thread.”

“I understand your position,” Amanda said. “Why did you come to me?”

“You already have an investigation under way that is not seen as being connected with me. Stone Barrington has a reputation as very bright and discreet; if he can track this thing down and put it out of business – quietly – then we’re all safe: Hickock, you, and me.”

“I see,” Amanda said.

“Tell your investigator as much of what I’ve told you as you feel is necessary, but for God’s sake, keep my name out of it, if you possibly can. I don’t know any more than I’ve told you, so there’s no point in my speaking directly to Barrington. Will you do that?”

“I’ll have to think about this,” Amanda said. “About the best way to approach it. Of course, I’ll keep your name out of it… if I can.”

Peebles’s face fell; he obviously knew that his fate was in her hands. “I would be very, very grateful,” he said.

Amanda lowered her window and waved at Paul. In a moment they were rolling back toward the East Side.

“Where can I drop you?” Amanda asked.

“Anywhere,” Peebles said disconsolately. “It really doesn’t matter.”

Chapter 35

On the morning following his return from the hospital, Stone felt well for the first time since his encounter with the intruder. He was sitting at his desk, trying to make some sense of the work that had accumulated, when his secretary buzzed.

“Yes, Alma?”

“Bob Cantor is here to see you,” she said.

“Send him in.”

Cantor was, uncharacteristically, wearing a business suit. “How you doing, Stone? Recovered?”

“Much better, thanks.”

“This guy is some piece of work, huh?”

“Apparently so. Have you got something for me on the maid and the driver?”

“Right.” He got out his notebook. “The maid, Gloria, lives in Queens; she rides in every morning with the driver, Paul, and takes the subway home. She’s divorced, lives alone, sees a lot of her sister. The neighborhood storekeepers like her. Most of them give her credit, and she pays on time. She’s Hungarian, a devout Catholic, teaches catechism to kids at her church. Hard to imagine a straighter arrow. I got a look at her phone bills; she makes very few calls, none of them long distance. Nine out of ten are to her sister, her priest, and Amanda Dart. I tapped her for three days, she got four calls, all of them from her sister. I honestly think that to do more on her is a dead end.”

“I agree. What about the driver?”

“Paul is something of a character in his neighborhood. He’s gregarious, plays the ponies in a small way and, on his day off, takes the train into the city and sits in a brokerage office, watching the ticker. He’s got a couple of hundred thousand in investments, not bad for a chauffeur, and he deals in used cars, one at a time – buys them, fixes them up, and sells them for a profit. He’s good on his bills and maintains a healthy bank balance, in the low five figures, in an interest-bearing checking account. I guess he keeps that much on hand in case he finds a car he wants to buy. He’s pretty honest about selling the cars, doesn’t lie about their condition, and he gets repeat customers. One little niggling thing, for whatever it tells you: He cheats Amanda when he sells her cars.”

“How?”

“She gives him ten percent to sell them, but he takes fifteen to twenty in the end. This was easy to figure out from his recent bank statements. Still, he always gives her book wholesale. I don’t want to make too much of this.”

Stone laughed. “I can’t say that I blame him. Amanda is the kind of woman who has to be annoying to work for a lot of the time, even if he is well-paid. Anything else that troubles you about either of these people?”

“Nope. All in all, I’d say that Amanda Dart has herself first-rate help in every department. Except maybe Martha, who could have a weakness.”

“What has the bug turned up?”

“The guy who calls never uses his name; she recognizes his voice. He’s giving her a pretty hard time, I think; he could be at the point of dumping her, but he hasn’t yet. She hasn’t seen him since I’ve been on this. I get the feeling that he thinks he might still need her for something, so he’s keeping his hand in, so to speak. I’ve got the tapes if you want to hear them, but they’re all brief; the guy doesn’t like to talk on the phone. Tell you the truth, I think that if there’s a leak in Amanda’s office, it’s got to be Martha.”

“I’ve been resisting that idea myself, because Amanda seems so certain that it’s not Martha, but after what you’ve told me about the others, and about these phone calls, I agree that she has to be our girl. I’m not entirely certain about Barry yet, because he screws so many people, we could never keep track. But it’s looking an awful lot like Martha.”

“Are you going to tell Amanda that?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to ruin their relationship without some hard evidence, and we’re not doing very well on coming up with that. Did Amanda talk with you about some guard work?”

“Yeah; a guy I know is going to handle it. He’ll come into the office when she closes and sit on it until her people arrive in the morning. I swept the place again, and she’s still clean. Maybe I ought to have another look around here, too.”

“Okay, go ahead; check back with me when you’re finished. There’s something else I want to talk with you about.”

“See you in half an hour,” Cantor said, and left the office.

Stone started dictating correspondence and signing checks; he had just finished when Cantor returned.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” the ex-cop said, flopping down in a chair, “this guy is some piece of work. He’s done the phones again.”