Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

you said. Doesn’t talk much. He’s greedy, fit beneath the flab, hates drugs but likes
     bourbon, and he’s crooked as they come. So why did I use him, you ask? Because his
     handshake meant something to him. Once you struck a deal and shook on it, that was
     it. He’d hold to that. He did time once to protect a client’s name. More practically,
     I was worth a pretty penny to him—he got five percent of any deal he brokered, and
     why would he give that up?”
    “Yet you think he gave up your name to Friar.”
    Jasper smiled wryly. “I did say he’s my former agent. A couple of years ago, I caught
     him in a lie. Now, that wasn’t unusual—Hugo likes lying—but this was a stupid lie.
     It only netted him a couple grand, and for that he broke his word?” Jasper shook his
     head. “I severed our relationship.”
    “My source says you retired a few years ago, or at least stopped taking jobs.”
    “Ah. Yes. The loss of my agent played into my decision.”
    “You’ve tried to find him recently?”
    “And failed.”
    “Do you have a photo of him?”
    “No, he’s camera shy.”
    “Describe him, then.”
    “He’s, uh.…at least three hundred pounds and maybe an inch taller than me. That would
     make him six-three. He’s bald—lost the hair on top years ago and shaves the rest.
     The tattoo you know about. Brown eyes. His nose is kind of squashed—I think it got
     broken when he was in prison, but it might have happened earlier. I don’t know his
     age, but it’s not far from mine.”
    “Has his weight changed much since you met him?”
    “He’s always been heavy. Maybe fifty of those pounds were added over the last sixteen
     years.”
    “That’s how long you’ve known him?”
    Jasper nodded and looked at his watch again. “Listen, I…”
    Rule heard Jasper’s phone vibrate. Lily probably didn’t, but she must have seen the
     way he jumped. “It’s him,” Jasper said. “Friar. That’s the phone he gave me.” He reached
     for one of the pockets in his vest.
    “Wait a minute,” Lily said. “Could that have a GPS in it?”
    Jasper shook his head. “I checked. Quiet. For God’s sake, everyone needs to be real
     quiet.”
    “He won’t hear your conversation on the house mics.”
    “I know.
Shh.
” Jasper thumbed the phone, held it to his mouth with his hand cupped over it, and
     whispered, “Yes.”
    Rule heard a much-hated voice: “Are we playing a whisper game, Jasper?”
    Jasper replied so softly Rule wondered how well Lily could hear him. “They’ve got
     some of their people watching me. One’s on my roof. You want them listening to us
     talk?”
    Friar was amused. “And do you think this watcher could hear a phone conversation two
     floors beneath him over that music you play every night in your ongoing effort to
     baffle my listening devices?”
    “I don’t know. Do you?”
    “It’s an excess of caution, but never mind. It’s almost time for you and dear Adam
     to be reunited. You have twenty-five minutes to reach Hammond Middle School. Set your
     timer now. You are to call your brother in fifteen minutes—do be precise, you will
     be graded on this—and tell him to meet you there at eleven forty-five. He’s to leave
     his bodyguards at the hotel. Make sure he brings Seabourne. Say whatever you have
     to. Just make sure he brings Seabourne.”
    “A middle school? You want to meet at—I don’t even know where that is!” Jasper’s eyes
     were wild, but he kept his voice to a whisper.
    “Look it up. And don’t be late. Every minute you’re late, something unpleasant will
     happen to poor Adam.”
    “Twenty-five minutes isn’t enough! And you have to let me talk to Adam first. I need
     proof—”
    “Twenty-five minutes,” Friar repeated. And hung up.
    Jasper looked up, his knuckles white on the phone he clutched in one hand. “The recordings.
     They’ve got over an hour to go. He won’t hear me leave the house. He’ll know. He’ll
     know, and—”
    “Leave that to me,” Rule said, taking out his phone. “Chris is fairly tech savvy.
     I’m sure he can follow your instructions.”
    “But how—”
    “He’ll enter your house secretly through one of the windows and, under your direction,
     shut off your recordings and the timers on the lights. He’ll leave out the back where
     it’s dark so any watchers don’t see his face. Then he’ll vanish.” He set the timer
     on his phone, then tapped the screen again, calling Chris.
    “You