"It still seems like a dream," Forrest Bannister said, "a nightmare, really."
"I'm sure it does," Justin said. "But the good thing about dreams is that everybody wakes up sooner or later."
"What was that all about?" Reggie asked. She waited until the moment they were out of the lobby and stepping onto the sweltering midtown sidewalk. "Suddenly you're Mr. Easygoing? Mr. Personality? Mr. Hey, Everything's Fine? What the hell-"
"Don't worry about me. What's with you and platinum, all of a sudden? He said the word, and I thought you were going to jump out of your chair."
She scowled. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just…" She made another face, scrunching up her mouth, then said, "The weirdest story of the year: Some state troopers in Texas found an overturned truck-there'd been an accident-and hidden in the back of the truck were platinum bars. A lot of them. Worth a few million dollars."
"You're kidding. What happened?"
"Nobody knows. It's not my case; I had absolutely nothing to do with it; I just read about it, and other agents were talking about it. The bars were unmarked, so not traceable. And even the driver wasn't traceable. He had a fake ID, there were no dental records, no prints. The truck had been stolen and we couldn't get any lead on that, either."
"Didn't anyone claim the platinum?"
"No. That's what's so crazy. There doesn't seem to be any theft involved-no one's stepped forward to say it belongs to them."
"Any idea where the truck was headed?"
"Into Mexico, apparently. But that's not much of a help."
"How could I not have heard of this? When was it?"
"About ten days ago. I don't know-a few days before Harmon was killed, that's probably why you didn't notice. It was big in Texas, I'm telling you. It made the paper here, a little story in the News. I saw it. I don't think it even made the Times."
"If the stuff was stolen, why wouldn't someone want it back? And if it wasn't stolen, why go to all that trouble of hiding it and trying to smuggle it? I mean, if that's what they were doing. It doesn't make sense."
"I know," she said, "and I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with this. It's just I hear the word 'platinum' and my ears perk up."
"Well, you hide it well. Every person in the building probably saw your ears perk up."
"All right, so I don't have a good poker face. But can we get back to your major suck-up job on Bannister? What were you doing?"
"Were you watching him?"
"Bannister? Yeah."
"Did you see his face when we asked him about the travel records and the travel agent?"
"Yes."
"He was lying. He was lying his head off the whole time."
"I agree. So what good does it do to let him get away without giving us any of the information we need?"
"He's never going to give it to us. And it's not going to be easy pressuring them. They'll have lawyers swarming all over us."
"So you just give up?"
"Don't worry about it," he said. "We'll get what we need."
"How?"
"We'll steal it," Justin said.
She began rubbing her eyes and forehead. "You know how hard it is to pull off that kind of computer break-in?" Reggie said. She was practically yelling now. "I bet there's maybe two or three guys in the FBI who could pull it off. And I won't be able to get them to do it now, not on this short notice, if I can ever get them to do it. Plus, we'll never get this without a warrant. And even you think it's going to be impossible to get a warrant."
"I know."
"So what are you talking about?"
"I know a guy," Justin said.
Justin asked Reggie to walk him up to Central Park. It was a twelve-block walk and when they got there, he steered her toward a bench in the shade. Sitting, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a speed-dial number.
"Mrs. Jenkins?" he asked after a moment. And after another moment: "Yes, this is Chief Westwood. How are you?… Thank you… Yes, I'm sure everything will work out fine on my end… Listen, I'd love to talk to your son if he's around… No, I know Gary's at the station. I meant your other son, Ben. Would you mind getting him?… Thank you."
"Oh god," Reggie said while he was waiting. "This is your little fourteen-year-old, isn't it?"
"Don't be an ageist. And I think he's fifteen now."
"Jay, do you know how crazy this is? This kid can't-"
He held up his hand to stop her. And then he spoke into the phone.
"Ben?… Yeah. Listen, I need you to do something for me and I need it quickly."
He told Ben Jenkins what he wanted.
Reggie groaned aloud about halfway through the request. When Justin was finished talking, she heard something indistinct from the other end of the phone, then she heard Justin say, "That's highway robbery." More words from the teenager, then, "Okay, okay. You got it… Yes, I swear. A flat-screen TV. Yes, I heard you-thirty-two-inch screen. It's a deal. Now shut up and listen."
Justin gave Ben the information he'd gotten at Ascension-the computer system and the various names and e-mail addresses. He also gave Ben a list of the companies they were interested in. He made sure Ben had his cell phone and fax machine numbers back in East End. Then he was about to hang up, but he stopped and said, "Hey, Ben, how old are you now?… Fifteen?… Well, I'm going to make this more interesting for you. I'm sitting here with an FBI agent… yeah, an honest-to-God real FBI agent… and she says no fifteen-year-old kid can do what I'm asking you to do. She says the top FBI computer experts couldn't do it. Got anything to say to that?" He listened for a few seconds, turned to Reggie, and said, "How much?"
"What?"
"Ben wants to know how much you want to bet?"
"I'm not going to bet money with a fifteen-year-old boy," she said. And when Justin raised his eyes, she went, "A hundred bucks."
He repeated the figure to Ben, saying, "I'm going to get in on this action, too. I'll take you for fifty… Right. Get back to me as soon as you can."
Then he hung up and said to Reggie, "Want to get a drink? I've got time to kill before my date."
He gave Reggie her choice-she could drive his car back to East End or she could take the train. She chose to drive, which was fine with him. He liked the idea of a late-night train ride. The quiet appealed to him. So did the idea of actually catching a couple of hours' sleep.
But first he had a woman to wine and dine.
He got to the restaurant a little early, went into the men's room, and cleaned himself up as best he could. He went to the bar, told the bartender to give him a splash of bourbon and a lot of soda, and then he nursed it until Belinda Lambert walked into the restaurant.
Justin smelled her perfume a split second before he turned to see her. It was sickly sweet, and there was too much of it dabbed on. And, he would be willing to bet, dabbed in too many and too intimate locations. The whiff wasn't overwhelming, just enough to be overdone. That's how he would describe the rest of her: nothing too extreme, but the effect was that everything was taken just one step too far.
Belinda was wearing a dress just slightly too dressy for the restaurant. It was red and white-and the red was just a little too red-and shoulderless. Spaghetti straps held the whole thing up. It was cut low-just a bit too low-and she was not wearing a bra, so when she bent forward to kiss him hello, the tops of her nipples were exposed. The skirt was-he couldn't help but note-too short; it didn't quite reach mid-thigh. She wore high-heeled, open-toe shoes with so many straps Justin thought it would have taken him half an hour to put the things on. The overall impact was, he was surprised to find, sexy. She was a big girl, but she was comfortable with her body. In fact, more than comfortable. She knew how to use it and was more than happy to draw attention to it. But there was also something sad about the complete picture. She was trying just a little too hard. And there was a hint of desperation in her eyes, the way she revealed her hunger.
He flashed her his best smile and made a bet with himself that when he asked her what she wanted to drink, she'd say a glass of champagne. Either that or a margarita with salt. He thought she'd really want the 'rita on this hot, humid night but would go with the champagne because she thought it would be classy.