Jack was always astounded when Harry said more than two words at a time. “It’s worth a try, that’s for sure. Since the local police were no help, I was also thinking maybe we could get Jack Sparrow to intervene on our behalf. They have something over here called the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure. It’s France’s top external intelligence organization. I read about it on the plane on the way over. I also remember the Attorney General’s talking about them when I was a prosecutor. Sparrow has the juice to make the call and do it as one Director to another, then it’s one of those, I owe you, and if I’m lucky, you won’t want to collect for years and years. It’s all in the spirit of cooperation. I can call if you agree, Harry.”

“It can’t hurt. If we bomb out with the landlady tomorrow, we might as well go home unless you want to tramp these streets in the hopes of spotting Petrie. We both know she’s gone to ground. Hell, she could be in Belgium for all we know. The only thing in our favor is she’s traveling using her own passport. Maybe Sparrow or Abner can find out if her passport is in play. If it isn’t, that means she’s still here and in hiding.”

Harry was right, Jack decided. “I’m dead on my feet, Harry. I hate jet lag. I’m going to call Nikki, report in, and you call Yoko. And then I’m hitting the sack. I’ll send Abner a text and ask him to do what he can. If we don’t hear back first thing in the morning, then we hit the streets as soon as we dress and have breakfast. I’ll send Sparrow an e-mail before we turn in. When we wake up, he might have some news for us. I’d call him now, but it’s four in the morning in the States. Ditto for the text to Abner.” Jack yawned to make his point that he was dead on his feet.

Harry was already punching in the country code and the area code to call Yoko, but Jack knew he heard every word he’d said. Harry never ceased to amaze him.

It was a beautiful morning, Maggie decided as she trotted along to meet Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis for breakfast to plan out the day. It was early, just barely past six fifteen, and already the sidewalks were full of people heading for their early-morning caffeine fix. Under her arm, Maggie carried a copy of the Post. She pretty much knew that the boys would also have a copy, but she never was one to leave things to chance.