CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
At eight-thirty, the Master had finished speaking on the phone. The call itself had lasted only moments, but it had been enough. At last, he had gotten good news instead of constant excuses. Aamir was doing well. The Master wore a smile of contentment on his haggard face, the wrinkled contours etched with cracked skin.
But the good news did not make him any less concerned.
How had it gotten to this stage in the first place?
Who was this cop, and what was he doing there – with her? The Master could not see how Mossad and the NYPD were connected. And even if they were, the cop was out of his jurisdiction, so in fact, he was just a civilian – not a policeman. The contact had said that the cop had revisited the man, Foster. But this was to be expected as they were old
