9
Jensen was on his way out of the temple when his two-way chirped. It was Margiotta.
"Finally found a picture of him, boss."
"Amurri?"
"Yeah. You'd better come see. I don't think you're going to like it."
"Be right there."
On the contrary, Jensen thought as he did an about face and headed back across the nearly deserted lobby. I bet I'll like it just fine.
Margiotta's tone had said it all: The photo he'd found did not match the guy who'd been calling himself Jason Amurri.
He did a mini fist pump. Knew it!
His instincts had been right on target. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for his powers of observation, and for plain old gut instinct. He'd spotted Amurri for a ringer from day one.
And now we've got him.
Another chirp from his two-way. Margiotta again.
"Here's something else you won't like, Boss. Lewis and Hutchison just called in. They lost the quail."
Margiotta knew better than to mention names on a two-way. He didn't have to. Jensen knew who he meant.
Noomri's balls! How hard can it be to follow one middle-aged, overweight broad?
"They give any details?"
"No, but they have more to tell. They're waiting till they get here. They should be walking in any minute."
Jensen considered waiting and holding the elevator for them, then giving them hell once the doors closed. He decided not to. He couldn't wait to see the face of the real Jason Amurri.
Margiotta sat in the office, seated before the computer. He leaned back and pointed to the screen.
"There he is."
Jensen leaned in and saw a blurry image of a man in his thirties. He ran a mental comparison and couldn't find one point of correspondence between this man and the one who claimed to be Jason Amurri. Darker hair, darker skin, bigger nose, different hairline…
"You sure this is the real Jason Amurri?"
Margiotta shrugged. "It says it's him, but that doesn't mean it is."
"What do you mean? I thought you said—"
"This is the Internet, boss. What you see ain't necessarily the real deal. Anybody can post anything, true or false. No one fact checks the Internet."
"But can you think of a reason why anyone would go to the trouble of posting a fake photo of Jason Amurri?"
"I can think that a fake Jason Amurri might, just in case we checked. If it looked just like him, I'd check when it was posted. And if it was of real recent vintage, I'd say we couldn't trust it. But this is a couple years old and doesn't look at all like our guy. So I'm ninety-nine percent sure it's legit."
"What would make you a hundred?"
"Finding another with the same face."
"Okay, then. Keep looking. I want to be absolutely sure before I take this to the SO. But for now, put a flag on his pass code. Next time he swipes his way in, I want him detained at the security desk."
Lewis and Hutchison walked in then. Jensen was opening his mouth to begin charbroiling them when Lewis held up one of his skinny hands.
"Yeah, I know, we lost her, but we didn't come back empty-handed."
"It had better be good."
The heavier Hutchison told about tailing her underground and then losing her to a waiting car.
Jensen had to admire the ditch: sweet and simple.
"You are going to tell me you got the tag number, right?"
Hutchison nodded and handed over a sheet of paper. Jensen glanced at it. New York plates. Excellent. A number of Dormentalists worked for the New York DMV.
He passed the sheet to Margiotta. "Run it." He turned back to Hutchison and Lewis. "That still doesn't save your asses. I put you on—"
"There's more," Lewis said. "Just out of pure coincidence, I walked by the car just minutes before Grant jumped in and took off. I saw the driver. Thought he looked familiar but didn't pay much attention. After Grant gave us the slip it clicked and I remembered where I'd seen him before."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Right here. He's that guy the SO's been doting on. What's his name? Am-something."
"Amurri." Jensen felt a huge smile spreading across his face. "Jason Amurri." He turned to Margiotta again. "But he's not Jason Amurri, is he."
"If he's working with Grant, I think we can go a hundred percent on that, no problem."
Jensen rubbed his hands together. "We know who he's not. And before the night is out we'll know who he is."