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"Nope," Lon Sellitto replied, "she's an interpreter."
"Translating wasn't a cover for being a call girl? You're sure?"
"Positive. She's legit. Been a commercial interpreter for ten years, works for big companies and law firms. And, I still checked: no rap sheet--city, state or FBI, NCIC. Looks like Moreno had used her before."
Sachs gave a brief, cynical laugh. "I was making assumptions. Escort service, terrorist. Brother. If she's legitimate, Moreno wouldn't have used her at any illegal meetings but odds are she'll know something helpful. Probably she'd have a lot of information about him."
"She'd have to," Sellitto agreed.
And what exactly did Lydia know? Jacob Swann wondered, sitting forward in the front seat of his Nissan, parked in Midtown, listening to this conversation in real time, having tapped once again into Amelia Sachs's 3G, easily tappable phone. He was now pleased she hadn't been blown to nothingness by the IED in Java Hut. This lead was golden.
"What languages?" Sachs was asking. Swann had the other caller's mobile identification number. Lon Sellitto, another NYPD cop, the Tech Services people had told him.
"Russian, German, Arabic, Spanish and Portuguese."
Interesting. Now, more than ever, Swann wanted her surname and address. If you please.
"I'll go interview her now."
Well, that would be particularly convenient: Detective Sachs and a witness, together in a private apartment. Along with Jacob Swann and the Kai Shun knife.
"Got a pen?"
"I'm ready."
So am I, thought Jacob Swann.
Sellitto said, "Her full name's Lydia--"
"Wait!" Sachs shouted.
Swann winced at the volume and held his mobile away from his ear.
"What?"
"Something's wrong, Lon. It just occurred to me: How did our perp know about Java Hut?"
"Whatta you mean?"
"He didn't follow me there. He got there first. How did he find out about the place?"
"Fuck. You think he's got a tap on your phone?"
"Could be."
Oh, hell. Swann sighed.
Sachs continued, "I'll find a different phone, a landline, and give you a call through the main number at headquarters."
"Sure."
"I'm dumping my mobile. You do the same."
The line disconnected, leaving Jacob Swann listening to pure silence.
CHAPTER 36
AT FIRST, AMELIA SACHS WAS CONTENT to pull the battery out of her phone.
