Like I was doing.
Chapter 3
ON THE STEADY tarmac of the JFK runway, I resisted the urge to drop to my knees and kiss the ground.
People were watching, after all, and small children were running ahead of me laughing and giggling as if they hadn’t been through seven hours of ordeal. Too young to realise the dangers, I rationalised, and headed for the airport entrance.
An hour later and I was waiting in the Blue Bar in the Algonquin, sipping on a chilled Peroni. I’d been treating the woman serving behind the bar to some of my wit but it was like bouncing pebbles off concrete. But suddenly she smiled.
Not at me. She was looking at the entrance and the man who was walking up to join me at the bar.
Jack Morgan.
He’s used to it. Let me tell you, Jack is a man to have as a friend not an enemy – but you don’t want him by your side if you’re in a bar looking to meet a nice lady for a dance.
‘Dan,’ he said, smiling, and stuck his hand out.
‘Jack,’ I said back and shook his hand. He was about an inch taller than me but built bigger. Could have played pro ball, one of his colleagues once told me and I didn’t doubt it. His uncle owned the Raiders for a start which probably would have helped.
He smiled at the woman behind the bar. ‘I’ll take my usual, please, Samantha,’ he said to her.
‘Coming right up, Mister Morgan.’
She flashed her dentistry again. That’s something the Americans are definitely world class in. Teeth.
‘I appreciate you coming out here, Dan.’
I turned back to Jack and shrugged. ‘You’re the boss.’
‘You’re the boss of London. I guess you’re wondering why I needed you for a simple babysitting job.’
‘I am a little curious,’ I admitted. ‘Couldn’t someone from the New York office have brought her over? We could have met her at the airport.’
‘The truth is,’ he replied, ‘there’s nothing simple about this case.’
Chapter 4
‘WHAT DO YOU know about Hannah Shapiro?’
‘Nothing at all. Your assistant said you’d fill me in, just told me to meet you here.’
‘Good. This is clearly on a need-to-know basis. Safer that way.’
Jack took the drink from the bar lady and laid his briefcase on the counter. Popping open the locks. ‘Apart from her first name, she has a completely new identity – surname, passport. Everything.’
‘Witness-protection programme?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Only not government-sanctioned?’
‘In fact it is.’
‘She’s how old?’
‘Hannah is nineteen.’
‘And I’m taking her back to England?’