Don't Order Dog_ 1(72)

“Because I need your help,” Tom replied firmly. “Look, you’re the reason this investigation is even happening. If you and I hadn’t met that night a few weeks back, my team would have never figured out that a rogue terrorist was responsible for murdering scientists in one of the world’s largest oil companies. Hell, you were the one that made me think this guy could be a killer in the first place. When this is over, our government and the entire fucking country will owe you a debt of gratitude. But for now, the painful truth is that, like it or not, you’re right in the center of this mess, and we need you to be our eyes and ears here as much as possible.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean you and the Federal Government?” Chip replied, glaring at Tom wearily.

Tom nodded his head. “Think about it Chip – you’re the perfect choice. You know this place as well as anyone, and you know the kind of people who normally hang out here. You’d be the first person to spot something that looked out of the ordinary. Plus, you already spend a lot of time here, so you won’t be changing your routine in a way that anyone would notice.”

He paused and leaned in closer. “You’re also the closest thing to a friend Jeri has around here, which means you’d probably be the first person she’d talk to if anything happened outside of the bar.” Tom leaned back and took a sip of his drink. He could tell that his argument was having its intended effect on Chip, who was now sitting with his shoulders slumped sullenly as he silently pawed at his beer.

A moment later, Chip turned and fixed his piercing blue eyes on Tom intently.

“If I help you, it will only be for the same reason I’ve been hanging around here from the start – to make sure no harm comes to Jeri.”

“Of course,” Tom replied.

“My interest in this situation only goes so far as her safety,” the older man continued. “The rest of this matter is in your hands… and I sure as hell hope you and your agency friends know what you’re doing.”

“Trust me… we do.”

“So what exactly are you expecting me to do?”

Tom shook his head as he reached into his jacket for his pen and notepad.

“Nothing more than what you’re already doing, Chip. I just want you to keep an eye out.” He quickly scribbled his phone number and tore out the page. “If anything happens, just call me at this number. I can be here in ten minutes.”

Chip took the note and glanced at it doubtfully before tucking it into the pocket of his blue jeans. “And what about Jeri?” he asked quietly. “Are you planning to inform her that her pen pal might actually be an international terrorist?”

Tom ignored the sarcasm in the older man’s voice. “The less she knows the better. Telling Jeri the truth would only terrify her, and anyone keeping tabs on her would notice a change in her behavior.”

Chip chuckled as he pawed at the glass of beer in front of him.

“What?” Tom asked.

“That’s the unwritten policy of the Feds these days, isn’t it? Presume that no one is capable of handling the truth and keep them safely locked behind a wall of ignorance. Tell them nothing, even when their safety’s on the line.”

“Look, Chip, that’s not–”

“Or is this about the need to control the one person that can lead this guy into your hands?” Chip continued. “After all, you can’t have Jeri just up and leave for fear of her own safety now, can you? If she did, your tenuous little thread to this guy would vanish completely. Better that she doesn’t know anything and remain the tantalizing little bait you need to catch him with. She’s just a lowly expendable bartender anyway, right Tom?”

Tom started to respond when his cell phone suddenly buzzed to life. He grunted irritably and dug it from his pocket. The screen on his phone identified the caller simply as Private. After debating for a moment, Tom pressed the answer button. “Tom Coleman.”

“Tom, it’s Alex.”

“Hi Alex,” Tom replied, keeping the surprise from his voice. In the ten years he’d known him, Tom couldn’t recall a single time his brother-in-law had actually called him. “How can I help you?”

“You can start by telling me what the fuck you’re up to,” Alex replied, his voice low and threatening.

Tom shifted uncomfortably on his barstool. “I apologize, Alex… would you mind if I called you back in a few minutes? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“Tom, whatever you’re in the middle of, you’ve got exactly ten minutes to get out of it and get your ass downtown. Meet me at Heritage Square by then, or I swear to god I’ll put a warrant out for your arrest.”