Johnny Boy downloaded a messenger app. “Only use this app for calls and messages. No WhatsApp, no email, no Facebook, no OnlyFans.” He handed Spencer a list of names and numbers. “Put those in. But not the names. They’re our names. Think of a way to remember who everyone is.”

“You can put me in as M,” came Denny’s muffled voice. “That’s M for mechanic not the guy in James Bond.”

He and Eddie just about died laughing. Spencer thought Eddie seemed to take longer to get the joke. Either that or he was being careful about choosing what to find funny.

Spencer went to put the list in his pocket.

“Do it now.”

Johnny Boy watched as Spencer put the info in his phone. “Who’s W?”

“Sheila,” said Spencer.

“W is for woman?”

“Yep.”

“Why am I LT?”

“Lawyer type.”

“Think of something else.”

When Johnny Boy was satisfied, he took back the list. “These numbers change.” He looked at Spencer’s gray Infiniti. “Good color.”

Spencer followed him up to reception, where he asked Sheila, “What have we got?”

Sheila spun one of the phones on her desk. Johnny Boy checked, then waved Spencer over.

“See that?”

“B7?”

Sheila sighed and shook her head.

“We don’t say it. We remember it,” said Johnny Boy. “Where to, Sheila?”

Sheila spun another three phones around. More letter-number pairs. Johnny Boy jotted them down on a piece of paper. “And there’s a moving drop,” said Sheila, adding two cross streets to Johnny Boy’s list. “Message me when you’re twenty minutes away, and I’ll let him know.”

“Got it,” said Johnny Boy.

Spencer followed him through the open door of McGrath’s office. McGrath was finishing a call. He looked up and smiled like a friendly colonel. “Taking the new boy out, Johnny Boy?”

“Best start making some of the money back he just blew on those wheels.”

Johnny Boy stood in front of the map. “Come over here.”

McGrath handed Spencer a pen and paper as he went by.

The letter-number pairs Sheila had given corresponded to addresses on the map. Beside each, two words were written.

“First word is the name of the company; the second is our contact there. Normally that intel doesn’t leave here unless it’s in your head, but we’ll go easy on you today. Write them down. Look at the map. Plan an indirect route to them. Don’t set it in stone though. OK, you see where that is?” Johnny Boy pointed to the initial letter-number pair Sheila had given: B7.

Spencer checked it on the map. Nately Place apartment complex. He recognized the name. The last of the Brewster Projects’ folks had been relocated there when their homes were demolished.

“Rough part of town, right, Spencer? Sometimes you’ll be picking up from a place like that, sometimes dropping off. OK, let’s go.”