The Cain File Read Online Free PDF Page A

joke about John Rae, their verbal cipher. “Whatever happened to him?”
    “Oh, him. He got bored. Took off.” John Rae managed to get away.
    Good. But she wondered how. When she had jumped for the window, he was facing down a man with a machine gun.
    “Where’d he go?”
    “To the movies.” Ed didn’t know.
    An ICE alert popped up on Maggie’s computer screen: ATTEMPTED GPS PING. Someone was trying to map her location. She clicked DENY. “I’m getting bored here, too,” she said. She needed to get out ASAP.
    “You know, a buddy of mine wouldn’t mind meeting you. I told him you were single and could hook up for coffee. Hope that wasn’t out of line. Maybe you could show him around? You never know. He might like you.” Someone would pick Maggie up, take her to safety.
    She felt a blast of relief. “Why not? I got nothing else to do. What’s his name?”
    “Frankie.” Plaza San Francisco, one of their pre-arranged spots.
    “What’s he like?”
    “A real hoot. He’s in finance. A go-getter. Make sure he picks up the check.”
    The code phrase her contact would use would include the word “check.” Call it arcane, but their simple code worked. A team of analysts could no doubt crack it, but by the time they did, it wouldn’t matter. Ed had been around and was a survivor. Old school.
    “When does Frankie want to get together?” Maggie said. “For coffee only, mind you.”
    Ed forced a laugh and puffed on a cigarette. “Can he call you tomorrow at this time?” As soon as possible.
    “Sure, why not?” A second ICE alert popped up: ATTEMPTED GPS PING. Again, she clicked DENY. “I’ve got a bad connection, dude. See you.”
    “Send me a postcard.” Call Ed back within twenty-four hours.
    She shut down her computer, feeling more settled, although the GPS pings bothered her. Maybe they were nothing. Then again, someone had outed their operation.
    Kacha pressed a steaming cup of tea into Maggie’s hands while she hefted her sleeping niece in one arm. The hot mug radiated heat into Maggie’s cold fingers.  She had to meet her contact. But first she needed dry clothes, a change of outfit. “I have to get out of here, Kacha—before the barrio wakes up. You and your sister cannot be associated with me. Not after that fiasco up there.” That GPS ping was making her more and more nervous. “I’m sorry I don’t have any cash,” she said. “But I will see you’re paid.” She set her cup down on the dirt floor and grabbed her damp cocktail dress from the back of the chair. It would have to do.
    “How?” Kacha said, eyeing Maggie’s slim black Evelin Brandt that, although wet, stood in stark contrast to Kacha’s ripped jeans and purple-sequined T-shirt. The infant in her arms cooed and she gave it a kiss on its tiny nose.
    Maggie sized Kacha up. She was a 2, a 4 at the most. They could be sisters. She held up the dress. “It’s wet, but it’ll survive. It cost a small fortune. Want to call it a down payment? You could sell it for a tidy sum. But we’d need to swap.”
    Kacha’s face lit up. “You think I’m going to sell it?” She placed her niece down gently on a folded blanket on the floor and snatched the dress from Maggie’s fingers, then quickly stripped. The baby gurgled and flubbed her tiny fingers over her wet lips.
    “I could sell that if you like,” Kacha said slyly, nodding at the chunky engagement ring on Maggie’s finger.
    “I hate to tell you, but it’s the best glass money can buy.”
    “A fake engagement ring? What kind of cheap novio do you have?”
    “Keeps the wolves at bay,” Maggie said, pulling Kacha’s warm jeans over her damp undies and slipping her torso into the tight top. It reeked of flowery perfume, but provided more warmth than a wet dress. Moreover, it allowed her to blend in. The police would be looking for a woman in a black cocktail dress.
    “I could sell that computer . . .” Kacha eyed the MacBook.
    “No can do,” Maggie said quickly.