Page 26

After getting Sara settled back in her room, Jack locked himself in his study and crouched next to the credenza behind his desk.

He felt along the underside of the cabinet’s bottom trim until his finger found a shallow indentation.

He pushed up, and the entire piece folded down, revealing a drawer that spanned the length of the credenza.

He slid it open.

Among the other things the drawer contained were two SIG Sauer P226 9mm pistols, four boxes of ammunition, two silencers, a collapsible steel baton, a blackjack, several never-before-used disposable phones, and a worn notebook with a black leather cover.

He retrieved one of the phones and the notebook, shut the drawer, and took a seat at his desk.

The notebook was a remnant of his old life and contained contact information for those who made their living in the world of crime.

Many of the entries were decades out-of-date.

Some people had changed their contact information, and others could now only be contacted via a Ouija board.

Plus, there were also new contacts he’d collected since he’d been released from prison.

While he had no intention of ever becoming an active member of that world again, he felt it was in his best interest to keep a finger on its pulse, just in case a situation arose that might require the help of someone still in that line of work.

A situation like what was happening to him now.

He flipped through the pages and created a list of people he thought might know why someone would be looking for him.

Using the throwaway cell, he called the first number.

“Yeah?” a man answered.

Adjusting the tone of his voice to sound more like he used to, Jack said, “Hello, Marko.”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Johnny.”

“I know a lot of Johnnies.”

“Fratelli.”

The line went silent.

“You still there?” Jack asked.

“Sorry, Johnny. I should have recognized your voice. What…what can I do for you?”

“That’s what I like about you, Marko. Always willing to help out a friend.”

“Always, Johnny, always. I mean, if I can, of course.”

“This is an easy one. Just need you to answer a question.”

“Sure, sure. Lay it on me.”

“When was the last time you heard my name?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s an easy question. Before this call, when was the last time you were either part of or overheard a conversation in which my name came up?”

“Gee, Johnny. I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

“A while like in weeks? Months? Years?”

“I’d say at least a couple years.”

Jack said nothing.

“I swear,” Marko said.

“I ain’t heard your name in ages.”

Still, Jack remained silent.

“You and me have always been friendly, Johnny. You know I’d tell you straight up if I had.”

“Okay, Marko. I believe you. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’d never do you wrong. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

“As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Oh,” Marko said, sounding as if he wished he hadn’t offered.

“I need you to ask around—see if anyone has been talking about me recently—and let me know. You can use this number.”

“Uh, sure. I, um, I can do that.”

“Thank you, Marko. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

Jack hung up, then punched in the number of the next person on the list.