Chapter 27

Danielle

We’re currently sitting at a café table opposite a factory that we think looks promising.

Janus, Mahdi, and I are having a small and so far unsuccessful stakeout.

Thanks to Janus’ amazing probing skills, we’ve narrowed it down to the right neighborhood to find the traffickers, but we don’t have an exact headquarter location yet.

But Mahdi is almost as good as Janus is, and he’s giving us a surreptitious tour of the more black-market areas of this neighborhood.

Janus sent Mahdi the information he got from Leviathan, and Mahdi already started to put together some of his people to keep an eye on things ahead of our arrival.

People are flowing in-and-out of factories. All with the same expression of bored determination on their faces.

The trick is to look for those who seem like they’re trying a little too hard not to be noticed.

The trick is not to be noticed ourselves.

Janus has got me dressed from head to toe. To anyone unsuspecting, I’m just a particularly modest local.

He looks…well, to be honest, he looks good.

Dressed more casually than he normally goes for, and with both sunglasses and brown contacts blocking out the icy blue of his eyes, he could be any Turkish boy-next-door. The sort of boy-next-door who you peer through the hole in the fence at.

And peering is all I can do.

This isn’t Athens anymore. Things have gotten even more dangerous, and I have to have my wits about me.

I’m in good hands, though. These two are the real deal.

They find reasons to walk into these run-down factory and office buildings, with Janus as the hired muscle, Mahdi as the important politician, and myself as the aloof wife.

We get into every nook and cranny that way. We have bugs and cameras hidden all through our clothing, too. If we see any evidence, so does the world.

But so far, we’re having no luck.

Just sad factory workers and greedy bosses—but that’s for another investigation.

Janus is getting frustrated, and I have to admit, I too would like things to speed up. But right now, I’m having my own private stakeout.

I’m enjoying getting to know Mahdi, and by extension, Janus.

Mahdi seems, as Janus would say, “Mad as a Hatter,” but underneath his odd jokes and love of opera, he’s sharp enough to cut you.

And he’s known Jackal for a very, very long time.

He named Jackal.

I’m so intrigued. I can’t help myself.

It’s not like me to let my curiosity show, but it’s also not like me to meet a man who could match me.

I look over at Jackal, who’s currently fishing out exactly the right documents to get all the doors opened for us in the building opposite.

Janus can definitely match me, and in more ways than one.

He checks something on a document, looks up at me, down at the document, and then up at me again.

“Take off your sunglasses and look at me.”

I take off mine, and he takes off his.

His expression is unfathomable, but his eyes are piercing.

“I had to edit your photo a little, to make sure we weren’t traceable. Just wanted to make sure it still looks like you.”

He doesn’t smile. He looks back down.

I turn back toward Mahdi to continue our little chat.

He’s chattering on something about the off-Broadway shows he saw last time he was in New York.

I tell him I agree that Avenue Q was good—it’s a white lie, I haven’t had time to go to the theater in years.

Then, I change the topic back to what really interests me.

“So, what exactly is it that you do?” I ask.

“What don’t I do, lady?”

He’s evasive, like all his colleagues.

I can work with evasive.

“Well, I know you don’t act.”

I laugh, and he does, too. Janus is still frowning, looking down at his documents.

Is this about the fight we had earlier?

Does he still think I’m trying to work him?

I’m still a bit confused and concerned about our conversation—if you want to call it that—last night.

“Actually, it’s clear that you’re a great actor. The way you scared all those factory bosses. Why don’t you take that face onto the stage?”

A rue smile crosses his face. Like Janus’, there’s a mischievousness in it that I can’t help but smile at.

Much like Janus’ other scoundrel of a companion, Manticore, Mahdi has a strong jawline covered with a light beard and intense dark eyes—only Mahdi’s dark eyes dance with playful glee whereas Manticore’s were always cold and serious.

“Ah lady, if my face was known at all, I could never work this job again. No, no, it is better to be forgettable.”

“Which brings me back to where we were before. What exactly is this job?”

“I move money. I move people. I move facts. I make sure the right people can help other people. I hide people. I find people.”

“You’re as vague as Janus.”

“I’m as good at my job as Janus here, that’s what I am. Taught him everything he knows.”

“No, you taught me everything you know, Mahdi. Then I went and learned a whole lot more,” Janus chimes in, finally smiling as he looks up.

Both men lock eyes and laugh.

“You are an ungrateful brat, you know that, Akhee?” he says, cuffing Janus over the ear.

It’s a treat to see Jackal being shown his place by one of the few people he really lets down his guard with.

But I’m still curious. I bring the conversation back.

“So, this is how you found Jackal? In your role as a people-finder?”

Mahdi rolls up his sleeves and looks at me a little more seriously now.

“What makes me good at this job—the reason I’m not dead yet—is that I can read people instantly. Despite the way he looked, I knew this little guy was priceless. Your little Jackal was cheating and swindling people and generally being an all-round scoundrel. Actually, he tried to swindle me.”

I look up at Janus. He’s still shuffling through his documents, but I can tell he’s listening intensely. I can even see the softest flush of red in his cheeks.

“Of course, I knew what he was doing instantly. The old help-me-out-and-my-rich parents-will-pay-you-back-thousand-fold trick. Of course, his parents were dead by then. But he was very good at it, Habibi, and I thought, what if instead of trying to cheat me, this little jackal-cub was tricking others on my behalf?”

“So, you put me to use.”

Jackal looks up, smiling fondly.

“I sure did,” Mahdi shakes his head fondly, turning back to me. “He was special, I’m telling you. Here’s this kid with an accent that sounds like he works shining shoes for the Queen and a face that looks like an angel’s, speaking a dozen languages and hustling for pennies. I taught him how to hustle for millions.”

“Okay, as fun as this trip down memory lane is, no criminals are being found while we excavate my past. I’m going to go suss out the factory entrances, make sure the coast is clear and that no one’s watching us watch them. Then the three of us go in together. Be ready to go in five.”

Janus puts his documents back in his briefcase, snaps it shut, and hands us our new fake IDs.

Then he’s out the door and on the street.

“So, you really found this guy on the street?” I ask Mahdi, watching Jackal melt effortlessly into the crowd in that magical way of his. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, he’s a bit of a diamond in the rough, as they say,” Mahdi replies seriously, then even more seriously. “I see you can tell he’s special.”

I try to hide the smile curling around my lips and simply nod.

“He’s special, Miss Robinson. He’s also got a big heart. Don’t be fooled by that professional exterior of his. He’s a kind and gentle man. Take care.”

And then Janus is back, looking unimpressed that we’re still here.

“Come on. Stop the chit chat, people. On your feet. We have traffickers to catch!”