“That’s police work.”

“The police will take too long! It must be returned tonight!”

“I can’t.”

“You must!”

“The chances against finding that necklace are—”

“Try! Please!”

Kusum’s voice cracked on that last word, as if he had dragged it kicking and screaming from an unused part of his soul. Jack sensed how much it cost the Indian to say it. Here was an inordinately proud man begging him for help. He was moved.

“All right. I’ll do this: Let me talk to your grandmother. Let me see what I’ve got to work with.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Of course it will be necessary. She’s the only one who knows what he looks like.” Was he trying to keep him away from his grandmother?

Kusum looked uncomfortable. “She’s quite distraught. Incoherent. She raves. I do not wish to expose her to a stranger.”

Jack said nothing. He merely stared at Kusum and waited. Finally the Indian relented.

“I shall take you there immediately.”

Jack allowed Kusum to lead him out the front door. As he left, he waved to Julio, who was setting up his infamous “FREE LUNCH: $2.50” sign.

They caught a taxi immediately on Columbus Avenue and headed downtown.

“About my fee,” Jack said once they had settled into the back of the cab.

A small, superior smile curled Kusum’s thin lips.

“Money? Are you not a defender of the downtrodden, a crusader for justice?”

“Justice doesn’t pay the bills. My landlord prefers cash. So do I.”

“Ah! A Capitalist!”

If that was supposed to rile Jack, it did not.

“If you don’t mind, I prefer to be called a Capitalist Swine or, at the very least, a Capitalist Running-dog. Plain old Capitalist has so little color. I hope Burkes didn’t let you think I do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“No. He mentioned your fee for the U.K. Mission. A rather steep one. And in cash.”

“I don’t take checks or charges, and I don’t take physical danger lightly, especially when I could be on the receiving end.”

“Then here is my offer… Jack: Just for trying, I will pay you in advance half of what the British paid you last year. If you return the necklace to my grandmother before she dies, I will pay you the other half.”

This was going to be hard to turn down. The job for the U.K. Mission had involved terrorist threats. It had been complex, time-consuming, and very dicey at times. Normally he would have asked Kusum for only a fraction of that amount. But Kusum seemed quite willing and able to pay the full fee. And if Jack managed to bring that necklace back, it would be a bonafide miracle and he would deserve every penny of it.

“Sounds fair to me,” he said without missing a beat. “If I take the job.”

4

Jack followed Kusum through the halls of St. Clare’s until they came to a private room where a private-duty nurse hovered near the bed. The room was dark—curtains pulled, only a small lamp in a far corner throwing dim light across the bed. The lady in the bed was very old. White hair framed a dark face that was a mass of wrinkles; gnarled hands clutched at the sheet across her chest. Fear filled her eyes. Her ragged breathing and the hum of the blower by the window were the only sounds in the room.