“Yep. Did it remotely, which I understand isn’t easy but was possible because of the systems involved.” Force turned onto a pebbled stone walkway, passed through a wrought-iron gate and strode between wings of the building to the front entrance, which was secured by a mesh security screened door in front of another locked door. “Should’ve brought Jethro. He can pick any lock.”

That professor was becoming more interesting by the second. “We’re official,” Wolfe reminded him.

“Kind of, anyway.” Force nodded. “Before we go in, what are you prepared to do to make Spanek give up Theresa Rhodes?”

Wolfe stilled. “Anything I need to do. Is that a problem?”

“Nope. Just want to know before we go in.” Force pressed the button for the manager. Twice.

“What?” a cranky male with a Middle Eastern accent barked through the speaker.

“Homeland Defense Department,” Force said. “Come and open the doors. Now.”

The guy spouted a stream of Pashto, the grumbling getting creative.

Wolfe leaned toward the speaker and spoke a Pashto greeting, apologizing for the late disturbance and promising that they’d be gone soon.

The guy stopped complaining and then the speaker went dead.

Force nodded. “Nice. What language was that?”

“Pashto. I learned it in Afghanistan.” Wolfe rolled his neck and looked down at his shiny badge. “I keep forgetting we have badges.”

The door opened, and a potbellied man in a white tank top, his thick hair messy, shoved open the door. “What do you want?”

“We’d like to visit the occupant in apartment 3D,” Force said pleasantly. “Would you mind letting us in?”

“Got a warrant?” the guy asked.

Wolfe put on his most pleasant expression. “We do not, but we could get one if necessary.” That was a total lie unless they wanted their HDD handlers to know what they were working on. “We just want to speak to the tenant and won’t cause any more disturbance.”

The guy looked him up and down. “You were the one speaking Pashto?”

“Oh, oke,” Wolfe said in Pashto.

The man stepped back. “Sam da.”

Wolfe nudged Force. “He said okay.” They moved into a dimly lit welcome area with a couple of tables and chairs set to one side.

The man shut and relocked the door. “I am not opening his door for you.”

“We’ll take it from here,” Wolfe said. “Manana,” he added, thanking the super and striding for the stairwell next to the elevator. He climbed up to the third floor and pushed open the heavy door. “Did you bring handcuffs?”

“Zip ties,” Force said, on his six. “After we’re done talking to Spanek, we’ll need to put him into protective custody if he gives up information on Theresa Rhodes and Gary Rockcliff. We’ll have to go completely official at that point, just so you know.”