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he’d ever had, and he wouldn’t compromise that for anything. He glanced in her direction once again. She gave him a bigger smile and nodded, willing him to go on.
    He took a deep breath. “Okay, Legs. Here’s how it went down. When all that stuff happened with you and Chas and him blowing your cover I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. Sorry, buddy,” he said to Chas, “but I came up with several different things I could do with your balls after I chopped them off.”
    Chas paused, then straightened. “Thank you, Jackson. Coming from you, I’m flattered.”
    “Anyway,” Jackson said, “I finally realized that Chas had nothing to do with it, and what I really needed to do was take out Pierre, since he was the only one who had all the intel. By that time, we were already on our way back here, and time was of the essence. So I called Mahmoud to take care of it.”
    “So that’s what you meant when you said ‘It’s taken care of,’ ” Lisa Bee mumbled. “I’d been wondering about that.”
    Jackson nodded, then went on, “After Mahmoud did what he does best, he didn’t stop there, because he’s a rock star. He had some spy chick he’s boning do a little more recon on who Pierre’s cronies are.”
    “Boning?” the Boss scoffed. “Haven’t heard that term since 1991.”
    “Why, Bossman?” Jackson asked. “Was that the last time you were in a situation where you used it?”
    “Very funny—”
    Susannah cut them off again with a glare. “Stop it. Pick it up, Jackie, before I ask my fiancé to make you.”
    “ Woo-hoo, Legs,” Jackson sang, “how I love it when you make men do your dirty work. Almost makes you seem like a lady. Almost. Whoa, Chas buddy, calm down! Joking. Anyway, this chick takes a bunch of pictures and gives them to Mahmoud the next time they spend a sexy night, along with all the background of all the characters involved. And there’s this one pic of Susannah’s father in disguise, checking out Pierre’s building. The chick says she took the picture because he was there every day like clockwork. So Mahmoud begins investigating him and puts his image into one of those fancy face-recognition programs—pretty rad, right? And it comes up with the name Buzz Carter and the designation ‘deceased: car crash.’ Mahmoud knew who he was because he knows everything, and I mean everything , and he knows it all because I’ve told him. Sorry, Boss, but he’s the reason why I’m so good at shit. He’s my ghost undercover. Still, it took the last six months for us to confirm it, and we’ve just barely scratched the surface. So . . . we all clear?”
    There was a moment of silence, then Lisa Bee shyly raised her hand.
    “Yes, Bee?” Jackson asked.
    “Um, well,” she said, gnawing her lower lip. “I’m kinda embarrassed about this, but um . . . where are we going? I know we’re going to Morocco, but then you said Mahmoud lives in Tangier, and I don’t really know where any of these places are.”
    Jackson let out a breath and said, “Of course. I’m so sorry. There are a bunch of maps in the packet—go to the second section and you’ll see where we’re going. It’s northern Africa. And Tangier, where Mahmoud and I grew up, is on the northernmost tip of North Africa, just across the Strait of Gibraltar from Spain. Sorry, I shoulda said that first.”
    “Oh, no problem, Jackie!” Lisa Bee said with a smile. “I just felt like a stupid American, is all.”
    Jackson was about to respond with a statement about how she wasn’t being stupid at all—it was really his fault for not explaining well—when suddenly, Tyka’s voice came over the intercom. “Hey, Bod Squad! We’ve got a bit of rough weather ahead. Also, I’m taking over the controls. Prepare for a little fun in these friendly skies. And buckle up!”
    The plane started negotiating some fierce turbulence, and everyone held on tight. Folders and papers flew everywhere as they all tried hurriedly to strap