impatiently. âWe were hoping you could save us some time.â
âSure.â Jack calmly looked at the camera lens, then into the eyes of each man in the room, as if he had been waiting for the question. âI believe something very big and very bad is going on.â
âHere?â Detective Jeffreys asked.
âIn your city for starters,â Jack said.
Jeffreys looked at Jack with more respect than Forsyth was giving him. The police captain had been at the Golden Gate Bridge years ago. He had been in Chinatown for the cleanup last year. He had even watched Truth Tellers during his ascension through the ranks. He wasnât sure whether to nod encouragingly or ask for an autograph.
âCarl,â Jack said, âI know you need more than my say-so to launch a big operation. So hereâs what you have to do. Get positive identifications of the men who attacked us, and as much evidence as possible that the operation we stumbled onââFirebirdââcould be the code name for a mass-destruction materials project that brought down a Russian passenger plane.â
âYour shoot-out was related to the crash in the Black Sea?â Forsyth said dubiously.
âTerrorism has gone global, or havenât you noticed?â
âWhat else arenât you telling us?â Dover asked.
He grinned at her. She knew him well. âWe have sources saying that smuggled, enriched uranium may have been taken from that downed plane. Do you have any sources that suggest likewise?â
âWho are these sources?â Forsyth asked.
âNot now,â Jack said.
Forsyth was about to call for corroboration, remembered the camera, did not bother retrieving his phone from his jacket pocket.
âSuit yourself,â Jack said, aware that Forsyth was also a political animal who kept his cards facedown. âBut Iâve already got people working on this. You donât help me, I donât help you.â
âYouâd rather have weapons of mass destruction at large?â Dover said.
âAsk your boss,â Jack replied. âHeâs the guy whoâs not sharing.â
There was a thick, sudden silence.
âWeâll see what we can dig up on the hit squad, Mr. Hatfield,â Jeffreys said, standing, and putting his hand out.
âThanks. You have my contact information.â
The men shook hands. Forsyth just glared at Jack.
âI will tell you one thing,â Jack said to the FBI director. âThe person of interest? Heâs bankrolling my investigation. And Iâll stack his resources against yours any day.â
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8
Life at the safe house fell into a pattern. The next day, Ric was up early, keeping watch over their section of the building; Ana, her girls, and Sammy all slept late. Late morning, while Miwa and Ritu showered, Sammy and Ana started preparing breakfast, which they all ate together. Normally effervescent, the escorts were noticeably subdued. But even they didnât miss the thoughtful, even longing glances their boss and the party clown exchanged while sharing their domestic chores.
On Solâs instructions, Ric approached their breakfast table on the first day, after having walked Eddie and cleaned up after him in the enclosed yard of the safe house. It wouldnât do for any of them to be seen outside.
âHey,â Ric said to the Asians while holding Eddie and scratching behind the poodleâs ear, âI know youâre supposed to be our guests and all, but we were wondering if you wouldnât mind talking to the residents here? The lost girls.â
Miwa and Ritu looked up at the bespectacled, burly man. He thought he noticed interest in their eyes.
âThe caregivers we hired have training,â he continued eagerly, âbut thereâs nothinâ like advice from people who live the life, you know what I mean?â
âYou assume they would try to talk them out of it?â Ana
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