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He hummed the same damn tune he’d done since I met him about fifteen years before. “How much money you got?”
“Enough. I can wire it to you.”
“Tell you what. Send me ten k right now and I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, some amusement in his voice.
I glanced up and down both sides of the street, noticing a single bank branch. Online was a hell of a lot easier, but I couldn’t risk it. “That I can do.” Since my rescue, I’d made several investments that had paid off, most remaining safe and sound in offshore accounts. As long as the bank could handle international to international, then I’d be fine. I had a feeling there wasn’t a Western Union to be found. I took down his information on paper, which would be destroyed as soon as the transfer was completed.
“Are you interested in getting your hands dirty?” I asked. I could use his help once in Portugal. We’d been a damn good team once, his expertise in computer systems legendary.
“Hmmm… It’s been a long time. My skills might be a little rusty.”
“I have faith.”
He laughed. “At least someone does. Yeah, happy to provide my particular brand of expertise.”
He’d always thought of himself as infallible. “Good to hear. I need one more thing.” I’d thought of little else but what Isabella had told me. Dirty secrets never vanished no matter how solid the attempt at making them disappear. While up to this point, there’d yet to be a reporter or judicial panel that had dug deep enough for her accusations to hit the light of day, that didn’t mean the ugliness couldn’t be found. Unearthing it just needed the right person.
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I need you to track down some sensitive information.”
“How sensitive?” Jeremy asked.
“Let’s just say if the answer is what I expect, explosive.”
“I’ll do my best. Give me the particulars.”
As I relayed what I knew and what I felt comfortable with sharing, including about the Secret Service man who’d been fired, I had no doubt whatever he found could alter the course of the upcoming election. I wasn’t just playing with fire. I was juggling dynamite.
“Can I call you on this phone?” he asked. The man knew the drill. We’d gone on enough missions together that we worked like a well-oiled machine.
“Limited.”
“Of course. I’m surprised you called, Jagger. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”
It had been too painful for either one of us to talk to one another. He’d always felt guilty for not being with the squad, which I suspected was the reason he’d left the country he’d grown up in.
“Yeah, me too. Just FYI, I’m not coming alone.”
“The big bad wolf has found someone?” he teased.
“Nothing like that, I assure you.”
“Hmmm… Got it. How soon?”
“Tomorrow if possible.”
“Goddamn it, man. You sure know how to put the screws to someone. Thank God I know a few people. Particular airport? “
I thought about his question. There wasn’t a chance in hell the damn Russians could flag every airport. “Nashville.”
“Given the short timeframe, buddy, I need pictures in case I gotta go commercial.”
“Not advised.”
“I still have sources, my friend, but I’m no miracle worker. You need to trust me.”
I weighed the odds of getting out of the country safely by means of a commercial airline. Slim to fucking nil, but what choice did I have? “Fine. You might need to doctor them.”
