Infernal

4

-16:14

"Man, do you look beat," Joey said as Jack settled into the passenger seat. "Whatcha do, pull an all-nighter?"

"Feels like it."

Jack had retrieved his Crown Vic from the garage and driven Gia and Vicky downtown to a spot in the East Village—a former vacant lot now full of bundled trees. Pickings were slim this late in the game, but they'd found a decent one and tied it to the roof of the car.

Gia had stayed with the car while Jack took Vicky into an art supply store where she bought her mom a new set of pigment tubes.

Then it had been back to Sutton Square to put up the tree and decorate it. Jack had held Vicky up to place the star on top before hurrying back to his apartment.

The good news was that Tom hadn't been in.

Jack had donned a dark gray twill coverall, then pulled on his leather driving gloves and a navy blue knit watch cap; he packed up his Glock plus an extra set of jeans and a flannel shirt, then put on his flight jacket and headed down to the UN.

Joey said, "Decided to bring your own hardware after all?"

He was pointing to the backpack Jack had placed on the floor between his feet.

Along with his extra clothes he had a Tupperware container of the Compendium recipe. But how was he going to explain the gunk to Joey?

Simple: lie.

"Some extra clothes and—"

"Clothes? What for?"

"Bloodstains. This could get wet."

"Shit. I didn't think of that. What else you got?"

"A kind of truth serum I want to try on one of these guys."

"What for?"

"Oh, I don't know. See if they're the whole deal or if there's something bigger behind them."

"You mean see if they're the shooters or the handlers. That's cool." Joey smiled. "And if they're being handled, we work our way up the chain, right?"

"Right."

"Only thing I haven't figured out is how we make sure El-Kabong is in there."

"Easy," Jack said. "We call."

Jack used his Tracfone to call information, then he punched in the number.

An accented male voice answered on the third ring. "Center for Islamic Charities."

Jack tried to imitate his accent. "Yes, is Hamad Al-Kabeer there?"

"Who's calling?"

"He does not know me, but he was recommended as someone who would see to it that a charitable donation would find its way into the right hands."

"Who was it who recommended him?"

"I'd rather say so in person, if you understand."

"I understand. You are arriving here?"

"Yes, I will be in your area later today and thought I might stop in to see Mr. Kabeer."

"He'll be here, Mr…?"

"I prefer to introduce myself personally, if you understand."

"I understand."

"Good! Then I shall see you soon."

Jack cut the connection.

"He's there."

"Awright! Time to kick some burnoosed butt!"