Infiltrator

She shifted her shoulders against the couch and crossed her legs. 'I'd be happy to answer any questions you have to ask me.'

Jordan was somewhat taken aback. He'd expected to be answering questions, perhaps defending his decision not to inform his superiors at the Bureau of his job search. To immediately move to his questions felt a little like hitting the ground hard after expecting the famous step that wasn't there.

'I want this job,' he said aloud. 'Am I going to get it?'

She smiled. 'Yes. You are.' Serena rose and moved to her desk to gather up

some brochures. 'These will tell you about the company and the rules. I've also prepared this for you.' She held up a black folder. 'It describes what I expect from you and what I consider to be your job.' She sat down beside him again, placing the whole bundle on the coffee table. 'You'll have things to take care of at home, and you'll have to give two weeks' notice, I suppose. How long before you can begin?'

'Two weeks ought to do it,' he said. 'It might not even take that long.'

'Would you like us to find you a temporary apartment out here?' Serena asked.

'That would be great,' he said.

'Furnished or un?'

'Uh, furnished for now,' he said. 'I can put my stuff in storage until I find permanent digs.'

'Great. Anything else?'

He laughed and shook his head.

'I guess I should ask how much I'll be making, about benefits, that sort of thing.'

Jordan brushed his hand over the top of his head. This is too easy! he thought.

He'd had a tougher interview for his first job. Which was shoveling Mrs.

McGill's driveway when he was eight. But what am I gonna do? Say I'm here in hopes of catching the Connors? He wanted this job. So he sat back and listened to Ms. Burns's answer.

'Your initial salary will be seventy-five thousand, with the usual comprehensive medical and dental plans. You get two weeks' vacation a year to start and paid holidays. Theoretically, anyway.' She grinned at him. 'There's a lot of work to be done here and you'll be getting in on the ground floor. Or, to put it another way, you and I will have the challenge of doing everything because this company hasn't got any significant security in place. I tend to work seventy hours a week myself. I could work more if I wanted to.'

She tipped her head. 'Will that be a problem for you?' she asked. 'I mean'—she spread her hands—'is there family, or a girlfriend?'

'No, no,' Jordan said. Not anymore, anyway. In fact it would be good to get so involved with something that he had no time to think about his family. 'Not a problem.'

'Good.' She slapped the arm of the couch. 'So, you'll be joining us, eight A.M.

Monday morning two weeks from… Monday?'

'Yes,' he said.

She rose and offered him her hand. 'I'm glad to have you on board.'

'Glad to be on board.' Jordan clasped her hand firmly.

'You have a good handshake,' she said. 'I like that.'

He smiled, gave a little shrug, pleased at her praise and feeling damn silly about it. But he had the job! That was the important thing. I just hope the Connors don't show up before I'm ready for them.

'Thank you very much,' he said. 'I'm looking forward to working with you.'

'And I with you,' Serena said, opening her office door. 'I think the FBI is definitely losing out here.'

Jordan shrugged. 'I just had to give the private sector a try,' he explained.

Serena leaned in confidentially. 'You won't be sorry,' she said quietly. And neither will I.

KRIEGER TRUCKING, PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT

'Victor Griego? That slimebag?' Ernesto's honest face was screwed up with distaste. 'Who says it?' he asked.

'Shooosh,' Meylinda said, looking over her shoulder. 'I don't want the senora to hear us talking about it.'

'Why not?'

Meylinda gave him an exasperated look. 'Because it's gossip about the senor,'

she growled.

'Ah! So, who?' Ernesto whispered.

'My mama had it from Marieta Garcia herself. Who is fit to be tied about it! The senor just won't listen to her. She says he has forbidden her to speak of it.'

Meylinda pulled a face and looked up at him from under her eyebrows.

'Ay yi,' he said quietly. He shook his head sadly. 'Has Epifanio tried?'

'Marieta says he won't even try. He says the senor knows what he is doing. Who are we to question him? he says.' She pulled the corners of her mouth down.

'But how can he even stand to have his wife waiting on that pig?' Ernesto asked.

Meylinda shrugged and rested her chin on her fist, her face glum. Both of them bowed their heads and sighed.

'Hey, who died?' Sarah asked.

They jumped guiltily.

'I was just going back to work,' Ernesto said, matching action to words. He gave a little hop as he made it to the door, as though he would start running as soon as he was out of sight.

'I was just about to start that filing, senora,' Meylinda said. She gave an uncertain look to the towering pile of receipts and laughed a little.

Hmmm, Sarah thought. 'So, what were you two talking about?' she asked.

'Oh, nothing, senora,' Meylinda said over her shoulder. 'Just some silly gossip.

You wouldn't be interested.'

Sarah sat at Meylinda's desk, clasping her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl. 'Oh, but I love gossip,' she said, a gleam in her eyes. 'Oh,' Meylinda said, and swallowed hard.

'We have a problem,' Sarah said to John when she got home that afternoon.

'Hi, Mom,' he said. 'I'm fine, thanks, and how was your day?'

She put her purse down on the kitchen table and stood with one hand on her hip.

'You remember Victor?' she asked.

He wore a vague look for a moment, then the penny dropped. He narrowed his eyes, 'Grieger?'

'Griego,' his mother said. 'But that's not bad seeing as we haven't seen him since you were thirteen. He's staying with Dieter.'

'Whaaat?' John felt his knees grow weak and pulled out a chair, sitting down hard. He stared at his mother, who looked back at him, her face grim. 'How did that happen?'

Sarah moved at last, pulling out a chair of her own.

'How it happened isn't that important,' she said. ' That it happened is.' She shook her head. 'We don't know enough. We don't know anything about Dieter, really, and nobody will talk to us.'

'Somebody will,' John said.

She looked over at him quickly.

He plucked a grape out of the basket on the table.

'Victor will,' he said, a peculiarly nasty smile on his young face.