“It’s only 7:30,” John said. “You guys really made good time, and we don’t even need to interrogate him. I’ve been watching the news. It’s a media mystery. They have dead fake highway patrolmen, drugged US Marshals, a missing terrorist, and no clues.”
“We had to alter our plan a bit when the unscheduled ambushers arrived,” Nick replied. “It all worked out in the end. Uthie filled in the missing pieces to our puzzle. Tomorrow, I’ll go with Paul to jam the last piece into place. It’s a good thing Paul has eyes on Collister. After he confirmed Douglas Cameron’s appointment to the Department of Justice job held by Pettinger was indeed influenced by Collister, there will be someone on Lee’s tail from now on until I can deliver his final message.”
“It’s too bad Sadun didn’t know one way or the other about Salvatore,” Gus said, as they walked the gurney toward their horror interrogation room and freezer. “What’s your feeling about Salvatore, Nick?”
“No matter what he’s into, I’m not killing him, except in self-defense,” Nick stated. “My take on him is he gladly took what he thought was simply an information gathering security matter. Phil probably thinks he was assigned to watch me as another step in shutting down problems related to Nancy Pettinger’s department.”
“Killing Jean’s boyfriend’s Dad would be very bad, Muerto,” John said. “Besides, you have too much going already. You must fly to DC, kill Collister, and then fly back here in time to chaperone Jean’s dance on Friday. Add in killing her dance date’s dad, and that is one bridge too far, my friend.”
“Tell me about it. Once Collister’s gone, we’ll allow justice to work its incompetent magic, and nail the Douglass Cameron leak. In the wake of all that, we’ll see where Salvatore winds up on our persons of interest list. “I’m going to bed after we tuck Uthman in for the night. I’ll have to get an early start tomorrow. I’m glad I had my uniform cleaned and bagged after I used it last.”
“We’ve never seen you in uniform, Muerto,” Gus said. “Will there be pictures?”
“Oh sure, Payaso. I’ll get Collister to do a selfie with me. Maybe we can get Paul to photobomb our wonderful meeting.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, Muerto.”
*
“This is Clyde Bacall, Nick. He’ll be driving you to the Congressional Apartments with your briefcase and eyes only files on Formsby.”
Nick smiled at the tall man in a black suit, and held out his hand. “You do look like Will Smith. I guess Paul told you we can’t wear our MIB suits to this wingding. We’ll have to be dressed to the nines in our uniforms.”
Bacall shook Nick’s hand. “So you’re the big bad? You’re a legend where no one can read your file, and all we have about you is rumor, and urban horror tales. Even Mr. Gilbrech speaks about you in a whisper. What makes you so bad?”
“I eat spinach mixed with lima beans,” Nick answered with grim featured seriousness. Gilbrech laughed while Bacall frowned at his boss’s enjoyment of Nick’s reply. “Anyway, you don’t have to call me ‘big bad’ – just Nick will do. When we get in the air, let’s do a quick review of how to proceed from the time we arrive at Collister’s place to how we make our exit.”
The three men took their seats aboard the private jet’s spacious interior seating, complete with table between them. Nick noticed Bacall staring across the table at him. He could tell the man was a killer. Nick knew the look. I wonder what this guy has a hard-on for me about, Nick thought. Once they were in the air, they unfastened their seat belts, relaxing slightly. Gilbrech sat next to Nick. He seemed surprised at Bacall’s attitude as well.
“Do you have a problem I don’t know about, Clyde?”
“Yes Sir. I was in the Rangers with Carl Stou. I’d like to know why the Big Bad felt it necessary to murder him along with Formsby. I’m assuming, of course, Formsby and his two men didn’t disappear into thin air after meeting with you, McCarty.”
Nick smiled across at Bacall, but said nothing. What was the use of explaining the unexplainable? What am I going to say to him, tough break for your friend, wrong place, wrong time, or maybe he should have taken a job at McDonalds?
Paul Gilbrech gave Bacall a dismissive gesture. “I told Nick I trusted you. Maybe that was a mistake on my part. It may be you’re in the wrong department, Clyde. Unfortunately for you, we have numerous leak problems already.”
“Meaning what, Sir, he kills me too? Carl never had a chance, did he?”
“Do you mean did I say one, two, three, draw. Uh… no. Everyone has a chance, and choices,” Nick answered. “Carl made a bad one working for Formsby.”
“Carl was a war hero. What the hell are you, McCarty?”