Even with her face turned away and that cap pulled down, Strasser knew it was her. What was she doing here? She's supposed to be at work. He got Kumi out onto the sidewalk, got them walking before he started talking.

"On second thought, I should probably let you go do what you gotta and we can meet up later."

"Excuse me?"

"I should check in at the station and see where this Boxboy situation stands."

"Where it stands is you and your friend have some serious shit to explain."

"That's why I want to check in. Anyway, bottom line is, Jevy got avenged."

"Oh, right. Try explaining that to my people. They couldn't care less about Jevy."

"I'll call you in half an hour. An hour at most. I'll have more by then."

He was having to play it minute by minute, making it up on the fly. He'd wanted to stay close to her, keep her thought process flexible on how to handle this, didn't want her bringing in the troops. But he had to find out first what the hell Zanya was up to.

He took out his phone. "Give me your number." She looked at the phone, looked at him, shook her head and reluctantly she gave him the number. He tapped it in and said thanks.

"I don't have yours," she said.

"Don't worry, I'll call you. Here..." He gave her his card. "Go get changed and we'll take it from there." Gave her a kiss on the cheek that surprised her enough that he was able to just take off down the street, no more words.

She watched him dart across the next intersection just as the light changed. There was a taxi parked at the opposite corner, which he ran up to and climbed in the back.

The driver looked up from his paper. "Where to?"

"Turn right," Strasser said, getting in and pulling the door shut, "and go around the block. Ten bucks."

"You got it." The driver didn't bother with the meter. He checked his rearview and pulled away from the curb. "Actually, they got the next street blocked off, shooting a movie. You mind I take the one after?"

"Do it," Strasser said. "I'll take care of you."

The driver did as told and drove them in a square, two blocks a side. Strasser sat in the back drumming his fingers, catching glimpses of klieg lights and a camera crane down the street they were filming on.

When they got back to the block the Cuban coffee shop was on, Strasser said, "Slow down." He peered over the front seat through the windshield, checking for any sign of Kumi. Didn't see her. "Actually, you can let me off here."

The driver pulled in behind a double-parked bakery van making a delivery. Strasser handed him twenty bucks and got out. He scanned the sidewalk and storefronts, still saw no sign of Kumi, told himself she wouldn't be standing out in the open even if she were still around.

He quickstepped the half-block to the coffee shop, wasn't concerned about making his entrance subtle, wanted to find out straight off what the hell Zanya was up to.

Went in and walked down the row of booths to the one where he'd passed by her.

Cursed when he saw it was empty.

Where the hell...

He saw the waitress who'd waited on them pouring coffee for some people from the movie shoot, half a dozen extras sitting around telling war stories about all the other movies they'd been in.

"Excuse me," he said when he went over to her. "The lady who was sitting in that booth there, when did she leave?"

The waitress glanced at the booth. "I didn't know she left."

Strasser could see that some bills had been left on the table. Zanya had moves no one would see, could be gone just like that.

On second thought, maybe it was just as well he didn't get into it with her here.

She'd probably left and gone to work.

Or back to the loft.

# # #

Kumi Warren stood back in the doorway of the 24 hr. Laundromat & Wi-Fi and watched across the street as Strasser came back out of the Cuban coffee shop. She was still in her mini-skirt and spike heels, hadn't gone home because she knew he'd be back here – knew it was bullshit when he said he had to check in at his station. Something in that coffee shop had set him off, she could feel it then, could see it in his eyes when they came outside and he told her there was a change in plans.

And there he was darting his eyes around, probably checking that she wasn't still here, set to follow him to whatever he was up to.

Which, of course, she was.

He didn't hail a cab, which was both good and bad. Good because she didn't have to try to hail one for herself, maybe lose him in traffic, bad because she was hard to miss in this outfit if she followed him on foot.

Then something across the street caught her eye, a delivery guy about to get into his double-parked van. She stepped out from the laundromat doorway, shuffled sideways between two parked cars, drew honks when she click-clacked in her spikes across the street, whipped out her badge when she got to the van.

"FBI," she said to the startled driver, "we're gonna do some tailing."

# # #

Whatever it was that made Strasser turn around, it gor him a glimpse of her getting into that bakery van. He turned back around and kept walking, before she could see that he saw her. He was going to have to lose her and find Zanya and get this whole thing straightened out before it got to where he couldn't.

He kept on going for another two blocks, kids out on the street now on their way to school, delivery people making their rounds, plenty of activity to blend with. But he wasn't losing her. He could see in the reflection of a big McDonald's window at the next corner that the van was still back there. He didn't want to make it look like he was running away, but it was hard not to look like that and still shake free.

There was a subway entrance coming up that had a sign showing logos for three different lines that converged here. Which meant there was a good chance there was an underpass that led to an exit on another street.

Go for it.

He skipped down the stairs and badged his way through the turnstile, went down another set of stairs and came to a platform where a morning rush hour crowd was waiting for the downtown trains. He made his way through the grim-faced people toward the far end of the platform. By the time he got there a train was pulling in. It was a local and when the doors slid open he made a quick change of plan and hopped on, didn't sit because he'd only be aboard for one stop – just enough distance to cut him loose from agent Kumi.

# # #

"Let me out here," Kumi snapped to the rattled Hispanic guy driving the van, the man looking like he thought that any second she'd be asking for his green card that had been forged. He was only too happy to stop and let her out.

She'd taken her heels off and ran now to the subway entrance she'd seen Strasser go down. When she got to the bottom of the second set of stairs and saw the crowd waiting for the trains, she knew she wasn't going to find him.

At least not here.

But she had a thought.

She slipped back into her shoes and went back up the stairs, her street-stroller outfit getting some glances from the people dressed for their everyday jobs who were coming down. When she came out onto the street a damp breeze had kicked up. She turned away from it and looked around and headed for the McDonald's on the corner.

Inside, she went right to a booth, bypassing the food line since she'd just had breakfast. She sat down with her phone already out and speed-dialed a number. While it rang she took out Strasser's card that he'd handed her.

"Gavin, hi, it's Kumi," she said when the call went through. Gavin Cox was an agent she shared an office with and had worked a couple of cases with. "I'm fine, no problem, but I need a favor. Who do you know at the tech lab?" She looked around while she waited for an answer, making sure none of the customers working on their Egg McMuffins or whatever were within earshot. She nodded to Gavin's response. "Okay, good, here's the deal. I need him to triangulate a cell phone number, the SIM card, and pinpoint the location. So I can find someone I'm tracking here in the city. I'll tell you about it later."

Any cell phone these days, because of terrorist threats and drug trafficking, had to be traceable 24-7 by its connection with cell towers and the network. Kumi wanted Gavin's tech guy to send an electronic pulse – pings – to Strasser's phone. The tech would fix where the longitude and latitude of the returning pings crossed, and would email a Mapquest link to her phone showing where that was. Where Strasser was.

Her dark eyes focused on Strasser's card. "You got a pencil? I'll give you the number. Have your guy call me when he connects or if there's a problem."

She read off Strasser's number slow and clear. Listened to Gavin read it back and said, "You got it." Remembered her manners. "Hey, thanks, man. I owe you."

She broke the call and sat back against the booth seat, thinking.

She knew she should be bringing other Bureau people in on this, felt bad about leaving Gavin in the dark. But she wanted to take it further by herself, so she'd have her stamp on it, have some control so she wouldn't have it taken away from her. And who'd believe her anyway at this point, about the occult stuff and that ghost picture – not if they hadn't seen the situation themselves. Just don't let yourself get sucked in too far.

"Okay if I sit here?"

She looked up. An old man was standing there holding his breakfast tray with shaky hands. He nodded at the seat across from her.

"Sure," she said, tucking her phone away and sliding out. "I was just leaving."