Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [44]
“It’s a start,” Jack said, then shifted his gaze to Leon. “Is there some way you can transfer this video to Max?”
He shrugged. “E-mail.”
Jack nodded. “Good. I don’t know who’s behind all this, Leon, but I’m gonna do everything I can to find out.”
“Why?” the kid said. “Why do you even care?”
Jack studied him grimly. “Because that’s just who I am.”
12
After they left Leon, Jack and Maxine walked along the street unassaulted and climbed into her car. Two of the gang members had been watching it for them. The kids left wordlessly when they arrived.
They both needed a drink so they made their way to the nearest bar, found a booth, and ordered the best scotch the place had to offer. Jack liked Glenrothes single malt scotch but it was hard to find. He usually settled for Jameson 12, Irish whiskey.
Jack was working on his third when his cell phone vibrated against his thigh, telling him he had a text message. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and saw that the sender was Bob Copeland.
The message was short and simple:
1600 hrs MOMA
Jack did not bother to reply. Copeland wouldn’t expect or even want one. He knew that Jack would be waiting for him at the Museum of Modern Art at four P.M. tomorrow, so there was nothing else to be said. But Jack was happy to hear from him. Copeland would only be requesting another meet because he had new information.
“Who’s that?” Max said, glancing at the screen as he put away his phone. “One of your many conquests?”
Jack looked at her and grinned. “You know I only have eyes for you.”
“And for some reason they keep staring at my chest. Men are so predictable.”
“Well, you know how I feel about sex, Max, don’t you? ‘The position is ridiculous, the relief momentary, and the results catastrophic.’”
She laughed. “Yeah, I’ve read Chesterfield, Jack. But I think that’s probably the scotch talking, Don Juan. Or maybe you’re just turned on by the fact that I saved your hide tonight.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Jack said, “but I had the situation under control.”
Max cocked an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. After working together with her for the past few months, Jack recognized it as the expression she wore when she was having fun with him.
“What you had,” she said, “was a near-death experience. If I hadn’t come along when I did, you would’ve been riding in the back of that ambulance with Jamal Thomas.”
Jack played along, not bothering to mention that he could have taken Leon with a Krav Maga move—step in, push the gun arm to his chest with your own perpendicular forearm, hold it there while you take a second step behind him, then snake that arm up and across his throat and put him in a chokehold. The way they were standing, however, the EMT would probably have taken a slug or two in the chest.
“Are you purposely trying to deflate my sense of masculinity?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’s possible. Let’s just call it a dose of reality.”
Jack was about to respond when they heard a beeping sound. It was Maxine’s turn to grab her cell phone. She checked the screen and suddenly got serious. “Leon finally sent me the video.”
“Good. You really think you can blow it up?”
“Blowing it up isn’t the problem,” she said. “It’s the resolution I’m concerned about. Even though it’s HD, there’s no telling what we’ll have once the image is triple its size.”
“So it’s a crap shoot.”
“I’ve got a few high-end tools I can use to fill in some of the pixels, but no guarantees.”
Jack nodded. “You have an ETA?”
She smiled. “I could be working on it right now if you weren’t busy trying to get me drunk and figure out how to take advantage of me.”
Jack grinned again. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Sometime tomorrow then?”
“I’m working another shoot in the morning, but I’m pretty sure I can have a yea or nay for you by the time you get back from that little rendezvous with your hottie. I’ll call you the minute I do.”
* * *
Max dropped him off at his boat around eleven P.M.
After a halfhearted