Now Holly had to decide whether to toss a grenade into the conversation. It didn’t take her long. “Her name is Jasmine Shazaz. Does that ring a bell?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“She is the sister of a man named Ari Shazaz. How about that name?”
“No, I’ve never heard it.”
“Perhaps you knew him as McCallister. He was in L.A., too.”
That stopped Kelli in her tracks. “Ah, yes,” she managed to say.
“He and his brother were killed while trying to escape the country after the L.A. incident.”
“So Jasmine is out for revenge?”
“That appears to be the case. She has been connected to two recent bombings in London—one that killed the British foreign minister, the other at the American Embassy.”
“Of course, I knew about that,” Kelli said.
“But you didn’t know the backstory?”
“No, I didn’t. May I write about this?”
“Yes, if you refer to me as a confidential source.”
“Are there other people I can talk to?”
“You can try the police commissioner and the head of the New York office of the FBI, but I don’t know how much they’ll have to say.”
“Why haven’t I seen anything about Jasmine Shazaz in the papers or on TV?”
“That would be a good question for the commissioner and the FBI,” Holly replied, “but don’t tell them you talked to me.”
“I’m a magazine writer, not a daily journalist,” Kelli said. “I’d need a lot more than this to get a piece into, say, Vanity Fair.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t a lot more I can tell you. You can also try the British Foreign Office and New Scotland Yard’s Special Branch.”
“They’re not going to tell me much either, are they?” Kelli asked.
“Perhaps not. Perhaps you should hold your piece until there is a successful conclusion to the case. I’m sure a lot of people would be more interested in talking at that time.”
“Would you be?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m sure you know that we don’t operate domestically.”
The waiter returned, and they placed their orders. Kelli did not return to the subject of Jasmine.
Back at Stone’s house Holly took her laptop into her dressing room, logged onto the Agency mainframe, and accessed the surveillance at James Rutledge’s apartment. She got the two just as they came through the front door.
“Well, that was fun,” Jim was saying. “You seemed to enjoy Holly Barker’s company.”
“It wasn’t the first time we met,” Kelli replied, hanging her coat in the hall closet.
“That’s right, you met in L.A.”
“Only in passing.”
“You’ve met her since?”