“We are making pro—” he started to say.
“Who is the girl?” Chercover asked, cutting him off.
Peter took a moment to remember all that Quinn had told him. “Her name is Marion Dupuis. Works for the UN, most recently in West Africa. Earlier this week her parents and her sister were killed by a gas leak in their home. We don’t think the leak was an accident.”
“So our terrorist friends are after this Marion woman,” Chercover guessed.
“They at least want to send her a message,” Peter said.
“But you don’t know where she is?”
Peter hesitated a mere half second. “There was a possible sighting in Montreal. I have people there now investigating.”
Chercover stared through the monitor.
“She might be a dead end,” Chercover said. “What we need to do is find out the rest of what Primus was going to tell us. That seems to me to be the most direct path, don’t you agree?”
“Good. Forget about the woman. She isn’t worth the effort.”
Peter could see Chercover’s arm move, then the screen went black.
Peter touched the control panel again, and the monitor slipped back into its home beneath the surface of the table.
He placed his right hand across his forehead and tried to rub away the anger that threatened to consume him. On his list of top ten items he hated most, being micromanaged by a client was right at the top. And when the client was right, it was even more maddening.
Such was the case with Chercover. Of course the girl wasn’t worth the trouble, not without more information. Peter could have Quinn search for her for weeks, but she might never be found. It was eye-on-the-prize time, and the prize was finding out the details Primus had yet to reveal.
Peter knew all this, but now whatever he did, it would seem like he was following Chercover’s directions, not his own instincts.
He found his cell phone and dialed Quinn back.
The line rang but a single time, then, “Peter?”
“Sorry,” Peter said. “I lost signal there for a little bit.”
“What were you going to say before?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t remember,” Peter said. He didn’t, and whatever it was didn’t matter anymore.
“We were talking about Marion Dupuis. You said it was probably the woman we were looking for. But… But what?”
“Not important. We’re going to drop her.”
“So you don’t want us to find her?”
“No. I have something else in mind.”
Quinn took a moment before he spoke. “I can hardly wait.”
“I’m going to have another go at our source. Try to set up a meeting to get all his information. It’s the only way we’ll find out what the hell is going on.” He paused. “I want you to take the meeting.”
“Of course you do.”
Peter remained quiet, giving Quinn a moment.
“I have one provision,” Quinn said.
“What?”
“I want the meeting to take place at a location I’m familiar with.”
“That makes sense to me.”
“Someplace public. I’m guessing he’ll want to meet me in New York. But that’s not going to work for me, not with my face still plastered over all the papers.”
“That’s getting cleared up,” Peter said. “Another day or two and no one will even remember the drawing.”
“You’d better be right.”
“Trust me on this.”
“Fine. But New York is still out. D.C. wouldn’t be good, either. Chicago would be better, or someplace like that.”
“I’ll try,” Peter said. “He might not go for it.”
“Then you take the meeting. Those are my terms.”
“Our deal was no questions,” Peter said.
