Private Rome

Chapter 61

Justine slipped her phone into her purse and tucked it into the gap between the table and the bed. Mo-bot and Sci were in the living room of the grungy little apartment above the cell-phone store, watching surveillance footage of the Inferno Bar, but Justine hadn’t been able to concentrate since Jack’s disappearance.

She had been taken into police custody for a while, not arrested but assisting with their inquiries, and once she’d been released, had spent her time checking the secure message server, praying Jack would get in touch.

Contact had been brief, but it gave her the most important thing of all: reassurance that he was safe. She’d known why he’d run. Matteo Ricci was in hospital after spending time in police custody, and given what they already knew about this investigation, they couldn’t trust anyone — including the cops.

Justine checked herself in the mirror. Her red floral-patterned dress was lightweight, perfect for the warm Rome evening. She hadn’t been crying, but the color had drained from her face under the strain of the situation. She looked distressed but not distraught, and in any case, had no reason to be embarrassed. Her colleagues in the other room know her better than anyone other than Jack. She couldn’t hide anything from them even if she wanted to.

She stepped into the living room and found Mo-bot on the couch with her laptop on her knees. Sci was at the small dining table in front of his machine.

“Good news about Jack,” Mo-bot observed, and Justine nodded.

“I don’t know,” Sci said. “I’m kind of sad he doesn’t love me back.”

Justine smiled. “You never were any good at reading the room. Do you think now is the appropriate time for humor?”

“He’s in forensics. You should hear his dead-body jokes,” Mo-bot said.

Sci’s smile fell and he lowered his head in contrition. “I’m sorry, Justine. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

She scowled at him and then broke into a smile. “Like I’m going to bust your chops over that. You’re a sucker, Seymour Kloppenberg.”

“Damn!” Sci grinned. “You got me.”

“You going to reach out to the embassy?” Mo-bot asked.

Justine nodded. “I’m going to call in a favor from a friend. You got a burner I can use?”

She was referring to a disposable phone that hadn’t been used before and was untraceable.

Mo-bot nodded and got to her feet. She walked to one of the flight cases near the kitchen and rooted around.

“How’s the surveillance going?” Justine asked.

“Nothing yet,” Sci replied, twisting his screen so she could see the video program cycling through feeds from various cameras they’d placed in the Inferno. “Just a bunch of metal heads spending their whole time getting drunk.”

“Try this one,” Mo-bot said, tossing Justine a cell phone.

She activated the phone’s keypad and dialed a number she’d committed to memory.

“Yes,” a voice said. It sounded small and distant.

“The secretary, please,” Justine responded. “It’s Justine Smith.”

“Hello, Ms. Smith,” a familiar voice said a moment later. Justine recognized the speaker as Eli Carver, US Secretary of Defense. He was a fan of Private and owed Jack a few favors. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Golf?” she asked.

“NATO summit,” he replied coolly, “but I’d rather be golfing. How can I help?”

“We’re in Rome. Jack is in trouble.”

“Mr. Morgan sure does get around,” Carver remarked. “And he has a knack for getting in trouble with all the wrong people. What can I do to help him get back on the straight and narrow?”

“I need to talk to the ambassador here. See if we can access evidence the cops claim to have against Jack.”

“Rome is Emily Carter,” Carver remarked. “I’ll make an intro. One of my people will contact you when it’s done.”

“You can reach me at—” Justine began, but Carver cut her off.

“We know how to reach you, Ms. Smith. We know how to reach everyone.”

He hesitated.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out as sinister as it sounded. We’ll contact you, Ms. Smith. Say hi to Jack for me.”

Carver hung up.

“All good?” Mo-bot asked.

Justine nodded.