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shop.’
    ‘Why would they kidnap you?’
    ‘I believe because they wanted my computer skills.’
    ‘You’re a hacker?’
    ‘I am the opposite.’ He injected dignity into his half-lie. ‘Check my work in grad school, speak with my adviser.’
    ‘We have.’
    ‘Then you know my thesis subject is computer security. No one knows system weaknesses better than a security expert. I specialize
     in RFID chip programming – you know, the chips that are placed on products to stop counterfeiting and to facilitate tracking.’
     He paused. ‘May I have some water?’
    Van Biezen gave him a glass with a straw sticking out of it. The water tasted like heaven to Jack. ‘Check the date. I’m sure
     there was a police report filed. The barista was mad.’
    ‘I will. And how did all these three men end up dead?’
    Jack kept his gaze steady on Van Biezen. The cop had misunderstood; he thought the three dead men – Nic and the twins – were
     his kidnappers. Jack nearly wept with relief. If he mentioned that a team of three CIA agents, hunting one of their own named
     Sam Capra, had kidnapped him right now it would be unwise; he preferred to approach the CIA on his own terms.
    Because he had already decided that the CIA was going to help him get out of this mess. He swallowed and continued: ‘Other
     men came in and shot them. I don’t know why. Except … ’
    ‘Well?’
    ‘They had crates of cigarettes. I assume they were smuggling them. If the cigarettes were stolen, then they might have wanted
     me to reprogram the RFID chips in the crates so they could not be tracked.’
    Van Biezen said, ‘They weren’t stolen cigarettes. They were counterfeit brands.’
    ‘Then I guess they wanted me for some other reason.’
    Van Biezen did not look impressed. He said, ‘So, when we check your phone records, we’re not going to find any calls to Nic
     ten Boom or the Pauder twins. They were strangers to you.’
    ‘Yes. Strangers to me.’ He had been careful to use only the prepaid phones given directly to him by Nic; his own phone and
     email records were clean.
    ‘I’m going to check your story. I hope for your sake it holds true.’
    ‘It will.’
    ‘So why did you not speak for so long?’
    Jack said nothing. He put on his Mona Lisa smile and stared back at the detective. He’d returned to his Quiet Game.
    Van Biezen left and Jack leaned back against the pillows. He considered. The CIA had killed Nic and the other men in the warehouse
     and left him to die. Or maybe they’d thought he was already dead. He had no idea. But … he’d been here a while. He had his
     own hospital room. They’d brought him here, covered, and he was under police protection.
    Were the police
hiding
him?
    They must be. Which meant maybe Nine Suns and the CIA weren’t looking for him. That was buying him time, very precious time
     he couldn’t waste lying in a hospital bed.
    He needed that notebook.
    He was not going to ask the police for help or for protection. The only protection was the notebook full of Nine Suns’ secrets
     and Nic had hidden it somewhere. He had to get out and he had to find it. The men who had taken him from the internet café
     would want it. The CIA, who had been hunting this group. Nine Suns must be special, international, if the CIA had an interest.
     They paid money for information. They protected informants.He could see his only course of action perfectly clear. He could find Nic’s notebook and sell it to August, and then could
     go into hiding for ever. He could not trust the police. He knew Nic had broken into the police department’s servers; even
     if the police hid him, Nine Suns could find him. He needed the most powerful ally he could muster. It would have to be the
     CIA.
    Jack Ming studied the white purity of the ceiling of his hospital room. All he had to do now was to get the hell out of this
     hospital and find the red notebook.
    The door opened. A nurse stepped inside. She was tall and