Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [98]
“That was a joke, right?”
Vince was still learning Jack’s intonations, and Jack was still adjusting to a roommate who couldn’t see his smirks and half smiles. “Yes,” said Jack. “That was a joke.”
Jack unpacked in silence—not because of any tension in the air, but because Vince was orienting himself to the floor plan, silently pacing off steps from the bed to the dresser, from the closet to the bathroom, from the desk to the minibar. Jack pretended not to notice when he banged his leg into the bedpost.
“I bet you’re wondering how I’m supposed to find a killer,” Vince said as he rubbed the pain out of his shin.
It was meant as a joke, but Jack picked up a hint of frustration in his voice. He imagined that if Vince were to roll up his pant leg, there would be plenty of black-and-blue badges of persistence.
“We’ll figure it out,” said Jack. “But on the subject of finding people, I am still curious to know how Chuck was able to track Shada back to London.”
“I guess I can tell you now that you’re on board. It was simple, really, once Chuck knew that she was disguising herself as a Muslim woman.”
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t find many women dressed in hijab who travel by themselves. It’s not allowed under Muslim law. Chuck checked the flight manifests to and from Miami, looking for women with Muslim-sounding names who were traveling alone. His supercomputers narrowed things down pretty quickly.”
Vince’s cell phone chimed, and a mechanical voice told him who it was:
“Call from: Chuck . . . Mays.”
“That’s weird,” said Vince.
Jack wondered how much of a coincidence it was, never underestimating Chuck’s technological ability to know that they were talking about him. He continued to unpack as Vince took the call.
At first, Vince did nothing to prevent Jack from overhearing his end of the conversation, but about three minutes into the call he noticeably lowered his voice. Another minute later he went into the bathroom, taking extra care to maneuver around that dreaded bedpost.
What’s the big secret?
Jack was tucking socks and underwear into the dresser drawer when he heard the toilet flush. If Vince was trying to make him think that he had really needed to use the bathroom, Jack wasn’t buying it. Vince’s cell was clipped to his belt, the phone conversation over, when he returned to the room.
“Chuck wants me to meet someone,” Vince said.
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
“I know, it’s annoying. But Chuck was up all night in some kind of paranoid mood. I had to flush the toilet to convince him that I was in the bathroom, away from where you could overhear. Even then, he wouldn’t tell me who he wants me to meet.”
Jack was skeptical, but he wanted to believe that Vince was being straight with him. “Who do you think it is?”
“Probably a local private detective.”
“When is the meeting?”
“One o’clock.”
“Where?”
“A pub called the Carpenter’s Arms, up on Cheshire Street. Chuck says it’s about a ten-minute cab ride from here.”
Jack checked his watch. “We’d better leave now.”
“Well, like I said: He wants me to meet someone.”
“You’re saying I can’t go?”
“For whatever reason, Chuck doesn’t want you there. Don’t take it personally.”
Jack blew out a mirthless chuckle. “What did I come all the way from Florida for, the beaches?”
“There will be plenty for you to do. Just let me get this first meeting out of the way, and then I’ll straighten things out with Chuck.”
“Call him back and straighten him out now.”
“Jack, come on. You of all people should understand the kind of hoops you have to jump through when your best friend is also a royal pain in the ass.”
Jack wasn’t totally cool with it, but Vince did have a point. Jack already had a half-dozen text messages from Theo listing all the crap he wanted Jack to buy for him in the duty-free shops.
“All right, you go,” said Jack. “But are you able to get there on your own?”
“My cell has GPS navigation. If you can get me down to the taxi stand, I’m good.”
Jack grabbed his coat and followed Vince out of the