Part 308 (1/2)

On a prayer, she took her last chance and poured on the speed. The

oncoming car swerved, brakes high and shrill, horn blasting. She caught

a glimpse of the car behind her veering back to the right at a dangerous

speed.

For a second, she was alone, around the next turn. Then she heard the

crash. It echoed with her own screams as she hurtled down the winding

road toward the lights of L.A.

MCCARTHY mD BEEN RJGHT. Not only did Michael feel better after a meal

and an hour's break, but he thought more clearly. As a

second-generation cop, he had not only his contacts to call on, but his

father's. He made a call to Lou's poker buddy who worked in

Immigration, to his own contact in the Motor Vehicle Administration,

used his father's name with the FBI and his own with Inspector Carlson

in London.

No one was particularly pleased to be called on after hours, but the

meal had made it easier for him to use charm.

”I know it's irregular, inspector, and I'm sorry to bother-1/2h, Lord, I

totally forgot the time difference. I am really sorry. Yes, well, I

need some information, background stuff. Robert Blackpool. Yeah, that

Blackpool. I want to know who he was before 1970, Inspector. I should

be able to connect the dots after that.” He made a note to himself to

contact Pete Page. ”Everything you can find. I don't know if I've got

anything, but you'll be the first-”

He broke off when he saw Emma running in, gla.s.sy-eyed, with a trickle of

blood on her temple.

”Please.” She collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. ”Someone's