Mark
My secretary had trouble getting the flight logs, so I had to make a few calls myself. They've arrived via currier an hour ago, and the sealed envelope has been sitting on my desk since. Whatever drove me to make this an urgent matter vanished the second they were delivered.
It can wait until after lunch. That way I'll at least get to enjoy a meal with Nicole before I can't.
My phone rings just as I'm putting on my coat to go pick her up.
"Pierre's gone," Thomson says into the phone breathlessly.
"Gone?" Why can't these extra special, high priced security people ever do anything right? Hell, they can't even give a clear status report.
"He evaded the tail, dumped his car with the tracking device in Hoboken—"
"Tell me you have someone tracking his cell phone," I snap, already rip
