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“Bacchetti.”
“Hi, Dino,” she said in a low voice.
There was a silence, then, “Shelley?”
“I saw the write-up in the Post,” she said. “Good work.”
“Can you hang on just a moment, please?” He put her on hold.
Damn, she thought. He ’ s tracing the call. She glanced at the second hand on her wristwatch. She’d give him sixty seconds of her time.
“I’m back,” he said. “Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m at an available distance,” she said. “Why don’t we meet this evening for a drink?”
“Okay,” Dino replied. “Where and when?”
“How about Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle, ten o’clock? That close enough to your bedtime?”
“See you there,” Dino said.
She hung up and made another call, this one to an escort service.
Dino went to his office door and shouted, “Any luck?”
Rosie stood up in her cubicle. “Nope, not long enough.”
“Shit! Come in here, Rosie.” He went back to his desk.
Rosie came in and sat down. “What’s up, boss? Who was on the call?”
“When’s Viv getting out?”
“Tomorrow, if she doesn’t have a temperature. They held her an extra day because of that.”
Dino felt the wrestling match between his duty and his dick. “It would be nice to have this cleared up by then,” he said.
“Have what cleared up? The phone call? Who was it from?”
“You ever heard of an FBI assistant director named Shelley Bach?”
“Heard of her? Are you kidding? She was big news last year. Was that Bach on the phone?”
Dino nodded. “I knew her when Stone and I were on that D.C. thing.”
“I’m not going to ask what you mean by ‘knew,’ even though I want to know.”
“I’ve got a shot at busting her tonight,” Dino said.
“That would be quite a bust,” Rosie said.
“She’s asked me to meet her for a drink at the Carlyle.”
“I expect the Bureau would like to know about that,” Rosie pointed out.
Dino shook his head. “They’re so desperate to nail her they’d flood the area with agents. She’d spot the setup from a mile away. You think she doesn’t know how they think?”
“She doesn’t know how I think,” Rosie said.
