“No worries,” said the man on the line. “I was just about to leave for the office, so it actually isn’t a bad time.”

“Ah, excellent.”

“I’m Fred Kaplan, by the way. I take it you’re interested in the place?”

“Believe it or not, Fred. I’m outside it in my car right now. I saw it online last night and thought I’d drive over first thing to take a look. It’s as advertised...beautiful.”

“I’m very fond of it,” Kaplan said. “The bungalow belonged to my late mother. She kept it in immaculate shape, as you can see.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Grigor said. “Mr. Kaplan, I realize it’s an imposition...but would I be able to look inside while I’m here? I’m very serious about it, or I wouldn’t ask.”

A pause. “Tell you what. I’m not far. If you’d like a quick tour of the property, I can stop by and give it to you before heading into work.”

“That would be tremendous, thanks a million,” Grigor said. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I want the place to go to someone who really loves it, Mr. Balen. Say we meet out front in about fifteen minutes?”

Grigor smiled, pleased.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

New York

“We should really stop meeting like this,” Carol Morse said.

“Now, there’s an original line,” Carmody said.

She smiled. They were on the bench on the river walk, where he had been waiting with his espresso and her strawberry mineral water in a cardboard take-out tray.

“I’m boring but prudent,” she said. “We’re within eyeshot of headquarters. Someone could see us here. It might give the appearance that we’re discussing something inappropriate.”

“Things that bad at home?”

“I meant professionally.”

“But are things that bad?”

“Let’s stay on point.” She took a breath, nodded back toward the Terminal. “I don’t want it to seem like we’re keeping secrets from anyone there.”

“Even though we are.”

She didn’t reply. Carmody handed her the bottle of fizz, then took his espresso out of the carrier and peeled back the tab on its lid.

“On point,” he said. “I have a big ask.”

She looked at him. “It’s been that kind of morning.”

“Already?”

“Yes,” she said. “OK, you go first.”

“What do you mean?”

Morse drank from her bottle.

“It means I have one too,” she said.

Fred Kaplan arrived at the Meadows Court bungalow in a Nissan Altima, stopping outside its attached garage. Grigor waved from the front lawn and instantly sized him up. He was in his fifties, short, balding, glasses. Average build, a bit fleshy around the neck. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and striped necktie.

He approached with his hand extended. “You take a look around while you waited, Mr. Balen?”

Grigor smiled as they shook.