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It took me a moment to realize this guy had played one too many Dungeons and Dragons games.

He said, “My name is Jason. Jason A. Manafort. But Todd said you wouldn’t put my name in any reports. Can I trust your word of honor, sir?”

“No one will ever know I was here or that you spoke to me.”

“And your quest? Is it really noble?”

“I’m looking for a missing girl, and Jennifer Chang might know where to find her. I just want to make sure she’s safe.” I waited while Jason considered this. He wasn’t taking our encounter lightly. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Then Jason patted the seat next to him and turned to his computer monitor. He said, “I did a little background. I needed to meet you and make sure you were worthy of receiving this information.”

I watched as he brought up Jennifer Chang’s registration information. I copied down an address in Midtown. It looked like more of a warehouse area. Some of the warehouses had apartments above them. I also looked at Jennifer’s official school ID photo. Like most college students, she looked too young to be in school, but that was just a product of me getting older.

She was cute and had purple streaks running through her hair. She had been born in California and appeared to be of Asian descent. Nothing in her file was useful for my investigation, other than the address, which I intended to visit as soon as I was done with the Royal Handler of Information.

I talked with Jason for a few more minutes and asked if there was anything else he thought might help me.

He said, “Do you know what a MAC address is?”

I recalled Eddie telling me about a computer’s unique address, the string of two-digit numbers and characters. All I said to Jason was “Of course I do.”

He brought up a different screen on his computer. He said, “I found her ID on the Wi-Fi in Butler Library. I even checked security video to make sure it was her. Anyway, when she signed on, this is the address that came up.”

I looked at the screen and copied down the twelve digits. I didn’t know how to use it myself, but I thought I could find someone who did.

I also didn’t know how to thank Jason. He was stepping outside the normal protocol for Columbia employees to speak to the police. I dug in my sport coat pocket and found a challenge coin from Manhattan North Homicide. Most police units make their own coins, mementos that some people collect. This one showed a crime scene on one side and our unit’s logo on the other side.

Jason stared at it in his hand for a moment and said, “I’m honored that you would entrust me with a symbol of your quest.”

I said, “Thanks for the help.” It seemed shallow in the face of his sincerity, but I didn’t have time for a big show of emotion. I had to check Jennifer Chang’s apartment.

CHAPTER 29

ALICE GROFF AND Janos Titon had followed the directions from the kid outside Jennifer Chang’s old apartment. His directions had

been right on the money, and his description had been fairly precise. The apartment was on the floors above a warehouse that dealt with caskets and funeral accessories.

They’d waited until the warehouse closed and it was dusk. Now they marched up two flights of wooden stairs, their footsteps echoing in the warehouse below them. They could hear the echo through the vents and a couple of windows that looked down into the warehouse.

Alice nudged Janos and nodded toward a series of extremely subtle security cameras. They were all directed at the door.

Janos muttered, “Computer geeks. They’re the same in America as they are in Estonia.”

They were still dressed professionally, so Alice wasn’t worried about what they would look like on security cameras. She knocked on the door.

Clearly whoever was inside had been watching the cameras and waiting. The door opened a crack with two heavy security chains on it. A tall, skinny man, with remarkably thick glasses, peered out at them. He spoke with a Hispanic accent as he said, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Alice had a little speech prepared about being from Columbia University and looking for Jennifer Chang. She was going to say they had come about a financial aid grant. Vague and non-threatening. The best kind of story.

Before she could say anything, Janos wedged his foot into the open doorway and had the barrel of his Czech pistol under the thin ridge of bone the man thought of as his chin.

Janos said, “It doesn’t matter who we are. You’re going to open this door or I’m going to open your face. Your choice.”

The man was stunned. He stammered, “How, how, can, can I undo the chains with the door open?”

Janos said, “Give me your hand.” He waited while the man stuck his hand between the doorjamb and the open door. Then he took a firm grip of the man’s index finger and put the barrel of the pistol against his hand. He said, “You can close the door as far as your fingers. That should be enough for you to undo the locks.”

A few seconds later, Alice casually followed Janos through the open door.

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