Go check it out at Channillo.  Here’s a taste:

*****

There was no reason for Rutger not to trust the inspector from Interpol, he just knew he didn’t.  After the man left, the first thing Rutger did was call a friend at the American Embassy.  An hour later much of the Inspector’s story was confirmed—Jack was being sought for questioning in the double homicide, but he was not, at present, a suspect.  The man had exaggerated, if not outright lied, he thought.  Why would he do that?

While he waited, he had done some digging on the Inspector.  The man was who he claimed to be, but after discovering the family ties, Rutger wondered why the man bothered with a job at all.  It appeared that Detective Inspector Stirling Gershon was connected… and not just by wealth, but to some very powerful people in Europe.  Those connections reached deep into the European Council, as near as Rutger could tell, but he feared they went even higher.  His search had stopped dead at that point, all avenues for further information stymied.

Why would such a man be serving at this low a level? he mused as he drove home.  Ties like his offer him any number of more powerful and profitable positions.  There was more to this story than even Jack had surmised, and Rutger was sure the waves these people might produce would soon have them all foundering in murky waters.  It couldn’t be a coincidence that one of Gershon’s family branches lived in Argentina, and had done so since shortly after the war.  More information on that particular branch was unavailable to Rutger, but he knew other people and other methods for unearthing the truth.

What he wanted to do—couldn’t do—was call Jack.  Any attempt would look like collusion on his part, and only serve to bring more scrutiny on a potentially innocent man.  Of course, there was always the possibility Jack was guilty of the murders, but Rutger did know how to read people, and he was as sure of the sun setting in the west that Jack could not have done the things he saw in that file.

He drove in silence, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator, scanning the horizon ahead as the flattened solar orb set the world aglow in amber fire.  Gershon’s family in Argentina, Nokim, Mossad… the Shadowman.  There is a connection there, and I will find it.

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