The Last Minute

37

JFK Airport

The Watcher stepped off the plane. His mouth tasted sour from his in-flight doze. His suit wasn’t as clean as he’d like for it to be. He waited for the press of folks off first class to pass (to his great annoyance he couldn’t get a first class seat) and then he obediently followed the rest of the coach passengers off the jet. The flight attendants gave him robotic nods and thanks.

He waited in the queue at Customs for non-US citizens and finally presented his Dutch passport. It passed muster without a hesitation, and he even managed a smile for the customs clerk who wished him a pleasant stay in the United States.

He stepped out into the city – one of the greatest dining cities in the world, he dreamed of a vacation where he did nothing but eat and talk with chefs here, but he could not think of food now. Novem Soles had found the record of Jack’s alias taking a flight out of Brussels; Ricki had lied to him. She would pay when he had time to focus on her. Jack Ming was in this city now, with his book of secrets. Sam Capra and Leonie Jones were going to kill Jack Ming and then they would die. It would close a book on the CIA’s own investigation of Novem Soles, once a former CIA agent had been identified as Jack Ming’s murderer. And then the circle would be closed, and the circle would be safe.

His phone rang. ‘Yes?’

Silence on the other end.

‘Yes?’ the Watcher said impatiently. ‘Yes, hello,’ a voice said, and it was one he’d listened to in the recording of the CIA conversation before, a voice he knew by heart. Jack Ming.

‘Hello,’ Jack Ming said into the sudden silence.

The Watcher froze. ‘Who is this?’

‘You don’t know me,’ Jack Ming said, ‘but your phone number is in a book I found. May I ask who this is?’

‘Well, no, because I don’t know who you are,’ the Watcher said.

‘I think you are being blackmailed,’ Jack said. ‘Are you? Because if you are, maybe I can help stop the people who are hurting you.’

‘You… you.’ The Watcher said. ‘Who are you?’

‘Since you didn’t say no, I’ll assume you’re being blackmailed.’

The Watcher’s mind spun. What exactly was in this notebook? A cold chill inched up his spine. ‘Listen. Okay. I don’t know who you are, this could be a trick to get me to say something I shouldn’t.’ Play the victim, draw him close. ‘Tell me exactly how you got my number.’

‘A friend gave me a book. It has numbers – bank account numbers – and emails and photos in it. I think it’s a book used to extort people all over the world, people in positions of business and government.’ Silence. ‘Do you fit those criteria?’

‘I might. Oh, my God,’ the Watcher said. The fear in his voice wasn’t exactly false. He cursed. He was standing out near a taxi pickup line at JFK. He had no equipment with which to trace the call; no way to alert any of the technical resources of Novem Soles. He would have to draw Jack in himself. And, honestly, if you can’t do that with a grad student you don’t deserve your job. ‘Look, if this is a test, I’ve done what you said. I have. Everything. Please. Please.’

‘It’s not a test, I’m trying to help you. If you can tell me who you are and what they have you doing… ’

‘I’m not confessing anything. Oh my God, oh my God. You tell me who you are, where you are. Give me a reason to trust you.’ The Watcher made his voice a slice of panic.

‘I am going to give this information to the authorities,’ Jack said. ‘The whole book. Now. If you want these people broken and off your back, I can make that happen. I can tear off your phone number from the book before I give it to the authorities. That way, you are never exposed.’

You devious little bastard, the Watcher thought. I want to kill you all myself.

‘And then you’re never in trouble. I’ll do that for you, I’ll pull this page from the book, if you’ll tell me what they have you doing.’

‘I have to think for a minute,’ the Watcher said. Delaying.

‘Well, one minute is what you have,’ Jack Ming said, trying to sound tough.

‘Don’t threaten me, I’ll hang up.’

‘And then when the police show up at your work, or at your door, wanting to know why you cooperated with a criminal ring… ’

‘I’m not going to talk to you on the phone,’ the Watcher said. ‘Could we meet face to face?’

‘This is a Paris number and I’m not in Paris.’

‘I’m not either, I’m in New York.’

It was a gamble to admit this, that he was in the same city as Jack Ming. Jack was silent.

‘I’m here for them, they’ve made me come here.’ The Watcher said this as though tearing the words out of his own chest.

‘Your minute is about up,’ Jack said.

So the Watcher decided: ‘I work for a major financial services firm. I give them data from my company. I deliver it once a month. Financial particulars, insider information, plans for investment. Confidential knowledge that they can use to profit on the stock markets in France, the US, Hong Kong.’

‘What did they have on you?’

The Watcher thought. He had to sell this. ‘I engaged in some insider trading. They found out about it. They said they would expose me if I didn’t help them. I don’t trade any more, I just feed them the information. If I disobey them they’ll expose me and if I talk about them, they’ll kill my entire family. So please don’t tell any one. Please.’

‘Why are you in New York for them?’

‘They wanted me to get some information on a stock deal.’

‘Whose deal?’

‘I won’t say. If it leaks then they’ll know I leaked it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said. ‘Thank you. I’ll tear your number from the book.’

‘You can’t give that book to anyone,’ the Watcher said. He had to try. ‘You can’t. You’ll destroy dozens of lives.’

Silence. ‘How did you know they’re blackmailing dozens of people?’

‘Stands to reason if it’s enough to fill a book.’

The ten longest seconds – at least since he’d encountered Mila – of the Watcher’s life ticked past.

‘You’re not being blackmailed at all,’ Jack Ming said. ‘You’re one of them, aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I think a person being blackmailed would probably disconnect the phone immediately and not say a word. How do you know I’m not the police?’

‘The police would show up. They can’t trick a confession from you, not this way.’

‘They could if they had a bug on your phone,’ Jack said.

‘You cannot give them that book. Please.’

‘Your number won’t be in it now, so why worry? So concerned for your fellow victims?’

‘I just don’t want innocent people hurt.’ The night breeze, the smell of jet fuel in the airport wind, blew over him. He had to stop this little lunatic, somehow.

‘Very considerate of you. This has been so illuminating,’ Jack Ming said. ‘Thank you… ’

Time for Plan B. ‘They know who you are, Jack,’ the Watcher said. ‘Which means they know who Ricki is, and who your mother is. They will find everyone you’ve ever cared about and they will burn them and everything you love to the ground. Oh, yes. You know why I’m really here? I’m going to destroy you financially, your family, everything you hold dear. Your mother will be selling herself in alleyways after I’m done.’

Stunned silence on the other end. ‘What?’ Jack said finally.

‘There is another option for you. I’ll buy the notebook. I’ll buy your silence.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Ten million. It’s a nice round number and you can easily live off that for the rest of your life.’

‘Unworkable,’ Jack said. ‘Ask the dead dude in the Amsterdam hospital if you think I’m going to meet you face to face.’

‘That was done without my approval, in panic, by a fool. Let’s deal like adults. I’ll put half the money in an account for you. You mail me the notebook and I’ll pay you the other half.’

‘And when I show up at your bank or move the money, you find me and kill me. No thank you. Plus, you can’t trust I haven’t copied the notebook.’

‘Let me propose this. A cash drop. We agree on a place for you to leave the notebook. And a place for me to leave you cash.’

‘Ten million in small bills is not exactly transportable by one guy in a hurry,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t trust you.’

‘I can give you a better deal than the CIA can. Twice the money.’

‘And dead twice as fast.’

‘Jack. Play nice, or I will burn you down.’

‘You’re just trying to lure me in. No. You know who I am. I know what you are. And when I’m done with you, you son of a bitch, there is no hiding place for you.’

This little nobody, threatening him. The Watcher heard the snap in his own voice. ‘You are nothing but a contemptible punk. When you die, and you will, I’ll throw a party. I’ll have people over for drinks and we’ll watch you being slowly tortured to death. I’ll have it catered. It won’t happen in some dark warehouse or basement. It will happen, with people standing around having drinks, laughing while they watch your skin pulled off, your eyes gouged, your ears burned to a crisp.’

‘Someone’s going to burn,’ Jack said, ‘but it’s not me.’ Then he hung up.

The Watcher stood there, the red rage slowly building in his eyes. He closed the phone and walked forward slowly to join the line of travelers awaiting a taxi.