“Most of the reason they’re coming is you. I wanted to make sure you’d be back from Lynch’s.” 

Weecho on his cell, telling Juna he was bringing some people by, said they were on their way in the Police Commissioner’s car. 

“Police Commissioner?” 

“Deputy Commissioner, actually. Him and the publisher of Cover.” 

Juna might have thought he was joking except she’d seen the email the publisher had sent back that morning. They must have hit it off if Weecho was still with him. 

But there was publisher and there was Deputy Police Commissioner, two different birds. She tensed at first, and then realized a commissioner wasn’t going to have an agenda that included some hick chick skipping on an assault charge from down in Louisiana. 

“We’re bringing something to eat,” Weecho said, “I’ll see you in a little.” 

He clicked off, turned around in the front seat to tell Burke and Alexey sitting in the back that Juna would be there, Burke asking the detective driving if he knew where “there” was. The detective saying it was right across from where the old Fulton Fish Market used to be.    

They turned onto a street in the East Village, the driver swinging around a bus, taking a left at the next light, pulling over and double-parking in front of a pizza place. When he got out to go inside Burke called to his back, “You better make it three.” 

“Plain?” 

“Whatever. Anything but anchovies.” 

Twenty minutes later on Weecho’s street by the river, the detective driver waited in the car with a couple of slices for himself while Weecho took Burke and Alexey and the rest of the pizzas up in the freight elevator. 

Cat Wanda was there to greet them. Right away Burke sneezed. 

Weecho tried to shoo her away but he had the pizza boxes to deal with, and Wanda wasn’t about to miss out on the fun when she saw the effect she had. 

Weecho could see Alexey out of the corner of his eye taking in the old beams, the old brick walls and view of the bridge when they walked across the loft. Keeping cool but had to be wondering how this kid pulled this off.     

Juna was at the workbench, doing stuff on the computer, had her own password now that Weecho had set up last night. He put down the pizzas and made the introductions. Juna knew one thing Weecho was going for, that they’d talked about on their way to the subway that morning: He wanted to get them some kind of a budget, from Alexey or whoever, get them some cash flow. So she shook hands with the two men, giving them what charm she had, like they were welcome guests in her home – which it seemed it was getting to be.    

Weecho dragged over some old folding chairs he’d found in another part of the building. “Everything go okay today?” he asked her.  

“I’m the official guardian of the bitch,” Juna said. “Her new name is Precious.” 

Weecho explaining to Burke and Alexey that Precious was Lynch’s guard dog and was chained right outside his office. “About ten feet from his desk and the laptop.” 

That opened the way for the men to explain why they had come to see Juna. Weecho got out some plates and started serving the pizza. 

Burke did most of the talking, letting out information little by little, watching Juna’s reactions. The man had made an artform of sizing people up, was going to have to make a decision right here whether or not he could trust her. 

“We could roll up his operation tomorrow,” Burke said, “now that we know who he is and where.” 

Weecho wasn’t sure but thought he saw Burke give him a little nod of recognition. Weecho pushed him some extra napkins so he could wipe his runny nose. Wanda could disappear for days at a time – tonight she wouldn’t budge. 

“But we’d rather let Lynch run with that laptop,” Burke said. “See where it takes him. Takes us. Juna, if she’s willing, can be our eyes and ears.” 

Alexey had been watching her. “Tell us about this Mr. Yoon. What’s he like?” 

“Like some kewpie doll with attitude.” She paused. “Not to be judgemental.” 

“Did he and Lynch seem close?” 

“I got the feeling they were sussing each other out.” 

“Sussing?” 

“Like dancing around some kind of a deal had to do with bringing in illegals. They were heading toward Lynch’s office where the laptop was when I had to leave.” 

Alexey turned to Burke. “I’ll try to get an update on him from Tel Aviv.” Saying that from what he could remember, Ming Jay Yoon (if it was the same Yoon, and how many Yoons in the network could there be?) did tanks and rockets and anything that exploded. “Would sell to both sides if he could work it. Now it sounds like he’s moving insurgents.” 

“The laptop gets Lynch a seat at the table,” Burke said. 

“And us,” said Alexey, “if we keep it in play.” 

“Which gets us back to Juna.” 

Juna shook her head. “Slight problem.” 

“What do you mean?” Burke said. 

“Right after Yoon left, the laptop crashed. Whoever hacked into it screwed something up.” 

“Christ. So can’t he take it back to who hacked it?” 

“It seemed like they didn’t part on good terms. That’s the feeling I got.” 

Alexey looked at Burke. “You have people who could do it, if we could slip someone in.”  

“It’d take too long, setting it up. And it’d still be too risky.” 

A negative – make it a plus. Weecho finished chewing, balled up his napkin and tossed it at the trash. 

“I have somebody.” 

Everyone looked at him. 

“Lemme check it out.” 

                                                #          #          # 

That night when they finally got in bed (Weecho still hadn’t gotten the other mattress) they talked about where this whole thing was going. 

“On the ride down here,” Weecho said, “the two of them talked like this was an operation set up off the books – to do stuff Burke’s people can’t touch.” 

“Like getting Nina in the sack with a sheik.” 

“The magazine sends people all over. They could put whoever they want wherever.” 

“Long as it’s a glamour gig that fits their style.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s why the Comish was here doing pizza with scrubs like us. Put some variety in the lineup. And cutting us slack, by the way, not asking too many questions.” 

“Covering his ass,” Juna said. “Who could be more off-the-books for him than us? Think how easy we’d be for them to get rid of if things didn’t work out.” 

A little cynical, but something to think about. 

“There’s no reason it can’t work,” Weecho said. “I mean, Nina got close to a major guy. You’re getting close to Lynch. I wouldn’t mind getting close to some kind of paycheck.”  

“Nina got herself killed is what she did.” 

“Hey, it was your choice, playing pet lady.” 

“ I’m not complaining,” Juna said. “Where does Alexey fit?” 

“Aside from it’s his magazine they’re working through, he opens doors. It sounds like him and Burke go back. But I think he’s got bigger stuff in mind than Burke.”  

Weecho had told Alexey about them being the ones who found Juna’s boyfriend shot in the head, had called it in to the cops, anonymous. 

“He said he’d take care of it with Burke, whatever that means.”  

“He talks with an accent, Alexey.” 

“He’s Israeli,” Weecho said. 

“Right, Tel Aviv. So there you go.” 

What she was saying, what Weecho was looking to tap into, was that nobody did undercover like the Israelis. Alexey, via the magazine, could put their agents right in the flow. The better-looking ones anyway. 

Juna said, “How’re you going to do the laptop thing?” 

Good question. When Weecho called his techie friend Aramis about taking a look at what might have crashed the laptop, Aramis said no problem. The problem was getting him together with Lynch so Lynch didn’t smell a fish. 

“When I opened my mouth at dinner about it,” Weecho said, “I was thinking you could be the go-between, make the intro.” 

“No way. That’s a different kind of close. I’m not there yet.” 

She was right – too soon. 

They lay there, their third night in close quarters. Wanda not in her spot at their feet, out prowling soon as the guests left. Weecho wondering if maybe he should show some friendship, a little touch or something. But then if it didn’t stop there, was he ready to take it the distance? Was she really his, you know, thing? Tomorrow her own mattress, definitely. 

“Any ideas?” she said. 

“I’m thinking.”