CHAPTER 22"Bad news," Amy blurted through the steel bars, rousing Henry from an uneasy sleep.
"Amy! How are you!?" the agent mumbled. "Where am I?"
Gold waited a few seconds for his head to clear, then continued. "The local police refuse to release you, and Brian is not insisting on it. Looks like they're going to keep you through the weekend."
Concern crossed the senior agent's face. "Boy," he said, "Three days of jail food."
Amy shook her head in disgust. "I think the cuisine is the least of your worries. You'd better start getting your resume together."
Henry ran a hand through his hair. He had not removed his shirt, nor loosened his tie, and now his disheveled, unshaven appearance made him look like a drunken bum, to whom sympathetic officers had given institutional accommodations
