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“She’s got a daughter.”
She doesn’t reply.
“You knew, didn’t you? You knew, and you never told me.”
She takes a deep breath. “What good would it have done? You’d have gone all mushy sooner and then where would I have been? Cost a lot of money to train you up. Make you the best.”
“Remember that when you come for me.” I hang up the line in time to see Clarissa emerging from the house. She looks on the verge of tears. “All okay?”
“Never spent a night away from her before,” she says. “I don’t know if I can do this. Maybe I should go back in and get her.”
“It’ll be good for her and you. What’s the plan otherwise? Never spend a night away from her until she’s in her thirties?”
“She’s only fourteen months. It’s too soon.”
I wipe the tears from her cheeks as she blinks up at me, looking totally lost. “She’s safe there. It’s not for long. I may resolve this quickly. I just need to make a call. I’ll meet you at your place. Can you cook?”
“I can use a microwave if that counts.”
“Make us something. I’ll be in shortly.”
“Anything else? Want your pipe and slippers bringing to you?”
“Just go.”
I watch her walk away. A couple of yards down the sidewalk, she looks back at me. I get an urge to wrap her in my arms, but I ignore it. Now’s not the time to get lost in emotions. I’ve got a job to do.
I call Morgan. He picks up at once. Did the tracker work?” he asks.
“Good as ever, but I’ve got a bigger job for you.”
“Flush it yourself.”
“No jokes. Listen. I’m on an assignment and I need to know who ordered the hit.”
“Woah. You asking me to infiltrate the organization’s mainframe?”
“You got a problem with that?”
“I’ll get skinned alive if they find out.”
“If you’re not good enough to do it, just say so.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“How long do you need?”
“Shit, Jack. It’s a big job. I’ve got to proxy myself through about twenty servers to hide traces of where the attack’s coming from. You’re talking a lot of work here.”
“Time.”
“Couple of hours, but I’m promising nothing. I’m going in blind. I only built their system, I haven’t updated it in years. Going to have layers like a fucking onion in there.”
“They don’t call you the best for no reason. Don’t call me until it’s done.”
I hang up and walk the short distance to Clarissa’s place. When I get inside, there isn’t just her there. Another woman is with her, roughly the same age but rounded in the face, more grungy in the dress, like she’s traveled in time from the late nineties, even down to the Doc Martin boots and scrunchie in her hair.
“You must be Jack,” she says, getting up from the couch and walking over to her bedroom door. “She makes a sound and I’m out here with the cops on the way to clean up what’s left of you. Got it?”
