Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

"Oh yeah," she said. "That helps. Fucking rude mick. And what the hell kind of name is Dee?" She turned to me. "He picked it, didn't he? I just hope it doesn't stand for Diane."

I frowned.

"'Jack and Diane'?" she prompted.

"Ah, the song. John Cougar. Or whatever he calls himself now."

"Melonhead or something like that. A perfect example of the importance of names. Cougar, you remember, but the minute you decide to call yourself Melon-shit..." She shook her head. "Names create an impression. Dee makes me think Sandra Dee, and that's all wrong for you. Now Diane wouldn't be so bad if you made it Diana. Goddess of the hunt. That would work."

Jack snorted.

"Shut up or get out," Evelyn said. "You screwed me over. It'll take a lot of ass-kissing to make up for this one." She shifted to face me. "I'm the one who tracked you down."

"What--?"

I looked from her to Jack. Jack met my gaze and dipped his chin, eyes dark with something like apology.

Heart hammering, I turned back to Evelyn. "How--?"

"When it comes to finding people, I'm the best there is. I could tell you where Jimmy Hoffa is...but it'd cost you."

"She didn't find you," Jack said. "Frank Tomassini mentioned you."

"But I found her from there, didn't I? Frank didn't exactly hand me her name and address."

"He told you about me?"

"Special case. He wouldn't mention it to anyone else."

"But how do you know Frank--?"

"As I was saying, I found you. Women in this business always interest me, and your background was...intriguing. Unfortunately, travel to Canada is a bit problematic for me. Some bad business in Quebec back in the seventies, which I'm sure your authorities have forgotten all about, but I prefer not to test that theory. So I decided to send my favorite protege--"

"Favorite?" Jack muttered. "Only one still talking to you."

"I sent Jack to check you out, to assess your suitability as a protegee. He comes back and says, 'Nah. Forget her.' Which"--another lethal glare at Jack--"apparently meant that I was supposed to forget you, not that he planned to. How long have you been traipsing across the border, cultivating my contact?"

Jack shrugged.

"Often enough, clearly. When were you going to tell me?"

"Brought her here, didn't I? We need information."

She laughed. "Don't you love this guy? He lies to me, steals from me, then has the gall not only to bring you here, but to ask me for help."

Evelyn didn't sound betrayed or even surprised. The look she gave Jack reminded me of a parent complaining about a rebellious teen, exasperated pride masquerading as pique.

"There's a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen," Evelyn said. "Pour us some, and I'll think about talking."

Jack heaved himself from the love seat and headed into the hall. Evelyn watched him over her shoulder, then turned to me.

"Don't tell her anything," Jack's voice floated back. "She knows what she needs to know. Rest is idle curiosity."

Evelyn mouthed an obscenity. She listened for Jack's movements in the kitchen, as if gauging whether he could still overhear.

"Let's just talk about a decent nom de guerre, then. How about Diana? That's better than Dee, isn't it?"

"Honestly? It makes me think 'dead princess,' not 'Greek goddess.' I'm not sure 'princess' gives off the right vibe, and that 'dead' part is definitely not a good omen."