The briefing was over.  Short and sweet and done on autopilot.  When CJ returned to her office, she was surprised to find the one of the plumbers there.  She watched from the door as he walked about her office slowly, studying her furniture, touching her exercise bike, the phone, even Gail's bowl.  Carol was nowhere to be seen.

"Excuse me ... can I help you?"

"Hello, ma'am.  I realize that this looks odd.  My apologies ... I'm afraid that I am in awe of this building.  I never imagined that I would ever be here.  Umm ... sorry.  The bathroom on this floor ... down the hall there ... our work is complete now and you can use it again," he coughed and halted his monologue.

The plumber slowly backed out the door, looking a little more than embarrassed at having been caught admiring her office, stumbling a bit and catching himself on the doorknob.

"Okay, thank you."  CJ couldn't help but smile.  It was a constant wonder to her that she worked in this building, with these people.  She could only imagine what this man felt.

---------------------

Danny's flight arrived right on schedule at Heathrow. He was glad to be an ocean closer to some answers about this story.  He was equally not glad to be an ocean further away from CJ.  Being familiar with the airport and traveling with his laptop and a small bag only, it wasn't long before he hailed a cab and was on his way toward White Hart Lane.  He found a small shop dedicated to all things soccer, although they called it football here.  He'd left the snow in Manhattan, but it was still chilly.  He purchased the jersey as he'd been instructed, along with a blue turtle neck for underneath.  The jersey said Holsten on the front.  While he pondered the peculiar sense of irony that had compelled the otherwise humorless Germans to name one of their more successful beers so closely to one of their more successful dairy animals ... might said cow transmit any of those diseases that he had asked CJ to invent.  Catching himself, he realized just how stressed he was. 

The jersey errand completed, he located a small hotel relatively near the stadium.  He checked in and found himself with 15 minutes to spare before his meeting with Mr. Jerry Baden Rocky Ayers Walker Jacks Whatever.  He took a very quick shower and was off to the pub.

---------------------

Danny's cell phone rang as he approached the pub. "Concannon." 

"Hello, now that you're here I can tell you my real name.  It's Jacks ... Jerry Jacks."

"So I'd surmised. I'm not late, I'm just around the corner."

"Right.  Can you do a decent Londoner accent?"

Danny replied with an accent "I think so, I've spent a fair bit of time here.  How's this?"

"Fine. There's a woman here.  Asian.  Quite beautiful, maybe about 30.  She started tailing me in France.  I need to figure out who she is and what she wants.  I need you to distract her -- pretend you've had a few too many to drink and hit on her.  Take her attention off me long enough that I can get away to a vantage point and get a few pictures.  She's been sipping on a drink since she got here.  It would help me if you could get that glass for the prints.  I don't want her to see us together just yet so head back out the front, turn right and walk quickly away. I'll catch up to you."  He hung up the phone before Danny could reply.

When Danny got to the pub, he went straight to the bar and ordered a beer, Holsten draft.  The bar was crowded, and noisy with Spurs supporters, many of them wearing shirts just like his.  The beautiful, quiet Asian women didn't exactly blend in.  Danny walked over and plopped down in the chair next to her.  "This is my third pub this evening and I must say the scenery is improving."  He didn't stop talking long enough to let her say anything.  The London accent with a slur for drunkenness wasn't easy. "Do you come here often?  I do.  One of my favorite drinking establishments."

"I'm waiting for someone."  She spoke to Danny without looking at him.

Danny spotted Jerry, recognizing his picture from the newspaper clippings of his arrest and subsequent disappearance prior to trial that had been in the Post database files.  "You're looking at that bloke there.  Don't bother.  Like I said I come here all the time. The bartender told me he's gay.  Let me have that refilled for you." Danny said, rising to his feet, blocking her view of Jerry by grabbing for her glass. That was all Jerry needed to get up and safely out of her view behind the large wooden column at the end of the bar.

"Sir, thank you for your offer, but no.  I am waiting for someone."

Holding onto the glass by the napkin that had been its coaster, "Are you sure, I'd really like to buy you a drink?"

"No thank you.  Please go." 

"Danny backed away, spun around, too quickly for a drunk football supporter, and went tumbling to the ground.  Jerry snapped his pictures, as the Asian women watched Danny get up, mutter a fleeting "Excuse me" and leave.

Jerry ducked behind than the bar, crept through the doors to the kitchen and was out the back.  A quick jog around the block and he caught up with Danny. 

"Nice work, mate,"  Jerry said extending his hand to shake Danny's, who instead handed him a glass.  Jerry wrapped it in a handkerchief, stashed in his coat pocket and re-extended his hand.  "Jerry Jacks." "Danny Concannon." "You need to work on your technique for picking up women.  She shot you down fast."

"My heart wasn't in it.  She's not my type."  Then he muttered under his breath, "She bears no resemblance to a flamingo whatsoever."

What's that, mate?"

"She was looking interested in you, so I told her not to bother, you were gay."

Jerry laughed.  "Somehow, I doubt she believed you."

"So what's the story?"

"I doubt she followed us.  But let's go by way of Lockwood Reservoir just in case.  We'll know if she's following us there."

"Who is she?" 

"I don't know.  I was in Marseille yesterday, paying off a French group on behalf of a Saudi group.  She started tailing me.  Even if she follows us to the game she won't get in, at least not quickly.  It's sold out and she'll have trouble even finding a scalp.  Your phone?"

"What?"

"I need your phone."

Danny handed Jerry his cell. Jerry popped it open, rubbed the SIM chip against the concrete of the sidewalk with his shoe, turned it over, did the same, popped it back in the phone.  "Go toss it in the reservoir, far as you can throw it."

"What the hell--." "People can track you through your phone.  I don't like that I had to call you on it.  Dump it." Danny did as he'd been directed.  "The Asian woman may connect you with me, so I've checked you out of your hotel.  Your stuff is being moved to my place downtown." "Okay."

"Nice choice on the jersey.  4, that's Freund.  Good player, like a pit bull."  Jerry handed Danny his ticket for the game.

"Okay."

TBC