‘We picked it up on chatter online.’ He leaned forward. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘You’re not helping me.’
‘Sam. She can tell us what we need to know. Clearly she’s connected to movers and shakers. She armed you, she financed you, she got you into the Netherlands and into the UK and into the United States with no trace of entry. She helped you get inside a major criminal ring that was planning the biggest assassination plot in American history.’ He shook his head. ‘We want to know who she works for and what she knows about Novem Soles, Sam. Give her to me.’
‘You have a very vivid imagination. Maybe I did all that hard work.’
‘Not on your own. You didn’t have the resources, the money.’
‘You following me today is no different than when you had me living in Brooklyn, waiting to see if someone from Novem Soles tried to kill me or grab me. I don’t work for you, August. I quit the Company. So you worry about your projects and let me worry about mine.’
‘Let me talk to Mila, Sam. Please. We can help each other.’
‘I’m not going to repay any help I’ve gotten from her by handing her over to you for interrogation. If she wants to talk to you, she will.’
The silence between us felt like one you’d find at a poker table when the cards still hold every possibility and the only measure you take is in your opponent’s face. ‘I don’t want to play hardball with you.’
‘August, you don’t even know where the hardball court is located. Now. You’ve learned you can’t follow me, and you’ve had your most excellent drinks.’ I stood. ‘I have to go tend to my business.’
‘I find it fascinating that you now own a bar. Where’d you get the money?’
‘Good night, August.’
‘Who are you working for, Sam? What have you gotten yourself into, hanging with a woman who has a million-dollar bounty on her head? You and I both know that only happens when you get down and dirty with the very worst.’
‘I’m going to find my son. No matter what it takes. Remember that.’
He was silent, staring at his martini glass. I know he wanted to help me. He was my friend. But he couldn’t.
‘You said you wanted your life back. If that means working for Special Projects again, and it should, then have your lady friend talk to me. Tell me who’s been helping you. Give us them and get what you had back.’
‘The Company showed me zero loyalty in my hour of need, August. Let me guess: you’ll run straight to them and tell them I own this bar now. Although it’s none of their business, and I want them to leave me alone.’
He sat silent for ten long seconds. ‘I don’t need to tell them your business. You may not think it, Sam, but I’ve always been your friend.’ He looked more angry than hurt, and I knew he wasn’t playing me. He stared at me. ‘In the crazy hours, right after you were accused of killing everyone in London Special Projects, I thought – do I know him? Do I really know him, could what they say be right? You could have fooled me, could have fooled everyone else. You could have been the worst murderer and traitor in CIA history. But then I thought, no, if he killed them he wouldn’t have been so stupid about it to be there when the bomb blew. He would have vanished. Because Sam is not stupid. Sam always does a calculatedly good job.’
I missed August. Hated to admit it, but I did. I wanted to trust him. But I couldn’t trust Special Projects, not after what they’d done to me. ‘A compliment. Thanks. I can encourage Mila to talk to you. But I don’t know where to find her, and that’s the truth.’
‘Getting your kid back, that’s huge to me. But I’m going to find Mila, Sam, with or without your help, and if you get in my way the friendship does not trump my duty.’ He folded his heavy arms. August played college football at Minnesota, and he’s a lot bigger than me. More pure muscle. I am smaller and faster and a little less naive.
The worst enemy is a one-time friend. I knew that.
‘I’m not your enemy, Sam, and I won’t be, unless you choose to be mine.’ His word choice made me feel like he’d read my mind. He picked up the martini, finished it with a toss.
‘It’s too warm now, it’s no good.’
‘Things don’t stay good,’ he said, and I knew: something had happened. ‘I hope you get Daniel back, safe and sound. You know I hope that more than anything else, Sam.’
‘I know.’
I used to fight with my brother Danny and the awkward, awful silence between us felt like the one now between me and August. A bitterness that could be sweetened with a word, but neither of us was willing to add that ingredient. He turned and he walked out, and I turned to go upstairs to pack for Las Vegas. The Round Table had a private jet I could use, and I wasn’t waiting a moment longer. I would head for Vegas tonight.
7
Amsterdam
Jack and Ricki had met under less than auspicious circumstances: she appeared in a hacker’s chat room when he was still in New York City, looking to trade piracy software for counterfeit DVDs. Jack didn’t think film piracy was really very cool, he knew it was theft, but in her postings Ricki was funny and charming and she was Dutch and so he thought she was hot. No one on the hacker discussion group knew he was Jack Ming, the guy the New York police wanted to bring in for questioning.
I got to run and hide. My parents are so uncool, he’d written.
Come and hide in Holland, she wrote in answer.
So he had, just on impulse, and he and Ricki had met for coffee in Delft after he arrived on a fake passport a friend back in New York helped him get. Instead of the dainty Dutch girl he imagined, Ricki was half a head taller than him and an immigrant from Senegal. She was funny, smart, pretty, and oddly tough. He was thoroughly overwhelmed and intimidated by her. He didn’t know what to say. Their coffee dates became fewer; he figured she was disappointed in him. He was a geek on the run. And he kept too much hidden in himself for her taste. How unappealing was that?
The hacker community tended toward what Jack thought of as a distant tightness. They stayed close online but they didn’t hang out much in real life. A person who was socially nimble behind the cocoon of a screen could be one who consistently missed normal interaction cues in a cafe or a pub. Ricki was one such individual. She arrived at the coffee shop thirty minutes late, stuck a wad of cash into one hand and a bag of cheap clothes into his other hand and said, ‘You owe me.’
‘Where’d you get the clothes? All the stores are closed.’
She shrugged. ‘Old boyfriend before you left them behind, but I think they should fit. You’re about the same size.’
He tried to ignore the stab of jealousy he felt. ‘Yes, I know. I’m going to owe you more. I need a place to stay. Just for tonight.’
‘Please.’ Ricki rolled her black-lined eyes. ‘Now you’ve decided to talk?’
‘Just one night.’ He glanced in the bag; the clothes were a lot more colorful and stylish than he would have selected.
‘What kind of trouble are you in?’
‘Nothing major, I just need a place to crash.’
‘Do the police know you’ve checked yourself out of hospital?’
Information was currency. ‘Look, I’ll write a program for you, a Trojan that’ll send you back information from the infected computer. Could be valuable.’
Ricki touched the corner of her mouth with her tongue. Please be greedy, Jack thought. Please.
‘You don’t need to bribe me to help you, Jack!’ She looked wounded. ‘I took a huge risk to find you.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘No. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean that. I was going to give it to you as a gift. For helping me.’ His voice trailed off.
She sighed. ‘So smart, so clueless. Buy me a coffee with the money I brought you and we’ll go back to my place. I’m just glad you’re okay.’
