"Where did the meeting occur?"
"The library. We both insisted on a public location."
"Do you know where he was staying or--"
"No clue. We didn't exactly chat. I try not to ask personal questions of the help."
I frown. "To your knowledge has he ever taken any other jobs in town?"
"Not that I'm aware of. He only handles a few jobs a year, that I know of. Apparently he met his quota for the year, and if not for Danny, he wouldn't have taken mine."
"What about Danny? Did you help him fake his death?" I ask.
"After the explosion he was taken to one of our clinics. I helped him get a new ID and put him on a plane to Rio. Haven't heard from him since. There was a rumor he was in Russia."
"What was the new name?"
Ryder thinks for a second. "Ralph Comstock, I believe. It was years ago, I can't be certain though."
"What about Acevedo and Raitt? Did Cain have contact with them?"
"No, but Danny did. They were all on my payroll at the same time."
"So Cain contacts Watkins, who in turn reaches out to his old co-workers," I say, more to myself. "Who else was Watkins close to in your organization?"
"Afraid that's where I draw the line, Joanna. I won't give up anyone else. I will not penalize those wily enough not to get caught. They have families, I do have some loyalty left."
I want to lunge at his image and strangle him, but all I can do is glare. "How did you contact Raitt and Acevedo? Where'd you find them?"
"Acevedo was pure muscle. An idiot, but loyal. He came to me though Gearhead, but last I heard he was working for Oleg Casanov." Whose organization was just decimated thanks to me. "Miles is a contractor. He has a website, MRBakery.com. Send an e-mail asking for chocolate croissants and give your phone number."
"Do you have any idea as to where Cain might be holed up? He has a large quantity of explosives and needs privacy."
"I owned over a dozen properties, which as you know, were taken by the city under the RICO laws."
"You must have one or two we never found. The subway station you held me in for example," I say with a fake grin.
"Good memories," he says with a matching smile. "None that Danny would know of. Anything else?"
"Know any of Watkins' old lovers names?"
"Never had the pleasure of meeting them. As I said, I tried to keep business and personal separate, otherwise things get complicated."
"As your present circumstance proves," I say with a genuine smile.
He smiles back. "How true. I let my emotions get the better of me and am now paying the price." His grin widens. "But it was so worth it."
I have to stop myself from spitting on the webcam. "I'll get started on the Grace thing. Just hope it won't come too late."
That fucking smile grows even wider. "Wear something sexier next week, Joanna. I'm awful lonely in here. Until then, good hunting." He makes a kissy face, then the screen goes black.
The moment it does, my façade crumbles and the breath I've been holding sputters out. If I wasn't already sitting I'd need to. My legs shake even now. I close my eyes and will myself to calm down. It takes awhile. When I can, I open my eyes and stare at the black screen. Why do I feel like I've just made a deal with the devil? Because I have. Better be worth it.
*
To maintain the status quo, Lexie is in New Urbana for a photo shoot the next two days and Brendan has football practice during the days, and I'm not even allowed to think about Jem let alone contact him, it's up to me and the GFPD to run down the plethora of new leads Ryder provided. I sent Harry the new info on Cain's alter ego, "The Mockingbird," Watkins alias, the way to contact Raitt, and instructions to ask all the male escorts to keep their eyes and ears open. Everyone needs companionship, even terrorists.
Doris and I tackle the rest. First I review the INTERPOL file on Jackson Adler A.K.A. Lee Harper A.K.A. the Mockingbird. Jordan must really like To Kill a Mockingbird. I have no doubt he's the one who gave Jem his nickname. I start playing with my hair as I imagine their nanny reading the boys the book as they fell asleep, dreaming about the perfect father who adores them and fights for justice. I shake my head to clear it.
Anyway. The Mockingbird. The authorities only attributed two hits to him: one in Prague and the other in Guatemala, both car bombs. Watkins must have taught him that skill. The alias Jackson Adler hasn't popped up since it was traced to an order for the knock-out gas he used on the First Lady's guards when he kidnapped her. That must have been when he retired Adler and became Lee Harper. There's only a grainy photo taken from the security camera in that INTERPOL file. His hair is down to his shoulders and blonde. A wig complete with sunglasses and mustache. Only if I squint do I see the family resemblance. Hard to hide those cheekbones. The fact there's so little information on him or any of his aliases does not bode well. If he's been an active mercenary for almost two decades, and they barely have a picture of him, it tells me he's either incredibly smart, ruthless, lucky or all which is where my money lays. But I do have one thing he doesn't: Doris.