faded, Vince spoke.
“Chuck Mays knows where Shada lives. She’s in London.”
“I just read in today’s paper that he’s about to be arrested for killing her.”
“That’s a plant,” said Vince. “I fed that story to my contacts in the media.”
“Why?”
“Shada promised to come out of hiding if Chuck needed her. The media coverage about his impending arrest on murder charges will hopefully make her think it’s time.”
“How did he find her?”
“His supercomputers. I can’t tell you the methodology.”
“Have you told the FBI?”
“No. And I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“I believe there’s a cover-up surrounding Jamal Wakefield that reaches all the way back to McKenna’s murder. I believe it relates to black sites, and I believe the U.S. government is involved on some level.”
“Neil would have agreed with you,” said Jack.
“Do you?”
Jack suddenly heard Andie’s voice in his head, chiding him for even entertaining such wild conspiracy theories. “I don’t know,” said Jack. “But let me run wild with that thought for a second. Has anyone considered the possibility that Shada works for the government?”
“I’m betting that Shada knows something about the cover-up and who’s involved in it. Chuck wants to know what Shada knows, and he doesn’t trust any government to get that information out of her without also getting her killed.”
“You mean killed by a government agent?”
“More likely, killed by law enforcement incompetence. Someone in some agency failing to keep her whereabouts secret, which means that Shada could end up like Ethan Chang or Neil Goderich.”
“Obviously, you have a plan,” said Jack.
“I do,” said Vince. “But let me be clear. I couldn’t care less about terrorists who were held in black sites. My only goal is to find the man who killed McKenna. And who did this to me.”
“How are you going to do that?
“It’s just like Chuck told you: We pool information-including what Shada knows. Which means the next step is London.”
“What makes you think Shada will even talk to you?”
“I lost my sight trying to save her daughter. Shada will talk to me.”
“But she ran from her life before, and she ran from Chuck when he saw her at the cemetery. She obviously didn’t want to talk to anybody. Especially her husband and his best friend.”
“First of all, Shada and I were always good with each other. I warned Chuck for years that he was going to lose her if he didn’t stop being such a jerk of a husband, and Shada knows that. Chuck and I agree that if there’s anybody she’ll talk to, it’s me. Second of all, Chuck’s not going with me to London.”
“Not going?”
“No,” said Vince. “With all this talk about a possible arrest, he doesn’t want it to look like he’s fleeing the country.”
“You just told me that the story was a plant. And even if it wasn’t, Chuck Mays doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who worries about appearances.”
Vince smiled. “True enough. Which leads me to the real problem: There’s this little thing about an arrest warrant out of the Old Bailey. Ten years ago, Chuck was pretty careless about what he smoked and where he smoked it. If he sets foot in the U.K., he’s going straight to the slammer.”
“So your wife is going with you?”
“Do you see Alicia sitting at this table?”
“No, but-”
“Look,” said Vince, “what I do with my own badge is my business, but my wife is also a cop. She understands that I have a score to settle. She also understands that I can’t let her throw her badge away watching me settle it.”
Jack measured his words, not wanting to insult Vince. “You’re going… alone?”
“No. Even with Sam, that would be an ambitious trip.”
It was clear where this was headed, and Jack wasn’t sure how to react. “You want me?”
“It was Alicia’s idea. She thinks that having a criminal defense lawyer around will keep me from stepping too far out of bounds.”
“What do you think?” asked Jack.
“I agree with Chuck: After what happened to Neil Goderich, I think this criminal defense lawyer has almost as much skin in the game as I do.”
Jack paused. Vigilante was the last word Jack would have used to describe Neil. But that didn’t lessen Jack’s need to find his friend’s killer.
“When do you leave?” asked Jack.
“This evening. Chuck is covering all expenses-airfare, hotels, meals. It won’t cost you a dime.”
Jack thought about Andie. Something told him that he should talk it over with her. Something told him that he shouldn’t.
What would Neil do if the tables were turned?
“Guess I’d better make my sandwich to go,” said Jack, flagging their waitress. “I need to pack.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” asked Andie.
Jack checked on his grandfather before heading to the airport, and it was the third time Andie had asked the same question since entering the nursing home. At least she’d stopped trying to unpack his bags.
“I’m sure,” said Jack.
“Go where?” Grandpa Swyteck asked.
Jack did a double take. Andie was seated in the armchair, and Jack was standing at Grandpa’s bedside, but Jack thought he had fallen asleep after Wheel of Fortune.
“Jack is going to London,” said Andie.
“Of course he is,” said Grandpa. “That’s where they all ran off to.”
Jack had no idea what he was talking about. Too often that was the case anymore. “And then I’m going to Prague,” said Jack. “I want to look up your mother’s family. The Petraks.”
The older man’s brow furrowed into little steps of confusion, as if he were struggling to make a connection between Prague and family. Jack’s gaze shifted back to Andie.
“I’m glad you’re staying,” Jack said quietly. “Even with Theo’s friend as bodyguard, it’s important that one of us be close by.”
“I suppose,” said Andie.
“He’s still there, you know,” said Grandpa, following up on his original thought. “Still in Britain.”
Jack almost asked who, but he caught himself, recalling the neurologist’s advice: Just roll with it. “Still there? Wow.”
“No, I’m wrong about that,” said Grandpa. “He left for the South of France in 1940. A town called Agde, I think.”
“South of France,” said Jack. “Sounds nice.”
“Nice, yeah,” Grandpa said, scoffing. “If you’re a Nazi.” Then he fell silent. He wasn’t making much sense today, but Jack wished he would keep talking, as Andie picked up her thread of the conversation.
“I don’t have a good feeling,” she said, shaking her head. “I respect Vince and all he’s accomplished as a cop. But the fact remains: He is blind. And you’re… well, you’re Jack.”
