Free The Blood Lance by Craig Smith Page A

K., that's no lead at all.'
    Malloy grimaced. He was working long odds on this thing and didn't care to have that fact thrown in his face.
    'I'll tell you what I can do. I can send it without authorization to Dale Perry. He's probably got most of it, anyway. I assume you've arranged to contact him?'
    'I'm meeting him tomorrow night. While you're moving files, can you send him everything the FBI has on Farrell's flight? I've got deep background on the guy, but since he ran I've only got what the news is telling us.'
    'I've got the summaries I can send you right now. The rest I'll pack into the files I send Perry.'
    'Great, but make it quick. I've got to be out the door in five minutes.'
    'No problem. Hey, T. K., I just thought of something.'
    'What's that?'
    'You know Chernoff used to sleep with some of these Russian mobsters before she took them out?'
    'What's your point?'
    'With that lady in his bed, I'm just thinking Jack Farrell might want to think twice about going to sleep afterwards.'
    Malloy shot out a couple of coded e-mails to contacts in Europe and then tapped into Jane's black ops fund. He moved ten thousand Swiss Francs into a Swiss Post account he kept under one of his aliases. This he could access as Euros via any postal machine from Germany. He checked his mail and got the FBI summaries on Farrell. That finished, he started for the door.
    As he did, the elevator pulled down to the ground floor. The building renovation wasn't completed, but he had brokered the sale of two flats, each taking up an entire floor. Both individuals spent about three months a year in the city, the rest in the sunshine somewhere or other. Neither resident was in New York at the moment. So it had to be Gwen. The old freight elevator came groaning up to the top floor and opened.
    Gwen had short dark hair and dusky skin, a slender frame, and large brown eyes that Malloy had simply never been able to resist. They had met shortly after Malloy had left the agency and floated along together for a few years before getting married. Marriage had happened about a year ago. The honeymoon should have been over long since, but they still flirtedand teased like a couple of kids. Malloy wasn't complaining. It was the only innocence he knew and he hoped, actually, it would never stop.
    When Gwen saw the suitcase set out she said, 'You're leaving me for another woman?'
    'I'm too old to start over, Gwen. I just need to chase one for a few days.'
    Gwen stepped off the elevator and gave him a wry smile. 'The romance just never stops with you, Thomas.'
    'I caught some work overseas. I left you a note. Sorry for the rush but—'
    'Where overseas?'
    'I'll start in Hamburg and see where it takes me.'
    'The Runaway Billionaire?'
    Gwen didn't watch the news or read anything other than the arts, food and travel pages in the paper. She claimed it was the only way to stay sane. 'You know about this guy?' he asked.
    'Wake up, honey. Jack Farrell is big.'
    Malloy suppressed a groan and tried to downplay his assignment. 'State Department has loaned me to the FBI for a few days. They want me to see if I can track the credit cards they found back to the source.'
    'They've got all that!'
    Caught in his lie Malloy rumbled on, 'Well, good. Then it won't take too long. As soon as I find out where he stashed the half-billion I'll be back. They haven't found his money yet, have they?' He cast a reproachful look at the darkened TV.
    'No sign of the money or Jack, but they got his DNA and the DNA of an unidentified female companion - not the secretary. She's still in Barcelona. I'm telling you, this guy is something with the ladies. Are you really going to get in the middle of this?'
    Gwen was excited. Malloy tried to look bored. 'In the middle of the money, if I can get a handle on it.'
    Her eyes widened as a thought struck her. 'You're not going to be in any danger are you?'
    Malloy laughed and shook his head. 'The guy is an embezzler, Gwen. I doubt he has ever touched a gun