Page 140 of Infatuation

“Yes,” Henn says. “The media can spin that ’til the end of fucking time. They’ll eat that shit up.”

“Yeah, butUkrainianterrorists? Americans don’t even know where Ukraine is,” I say.

“That’s true.” Henn says.

“Russianterrorists?” Jonas says.

“Yeah,” Henn says. “‘A Russian terrorist cell.’”

“Ha! Perfect,” I say. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“So I’ve been told,” Henn says.

“I like it,” Jonas says, nodding. He looks deep in thought.

“It’s actually eerily perfect,” Henn says. “It’s got all the bogey-man buzzwords at once, tied up in a neat little package. The news stations will have themselves a field day, whipping everyone into a frenzy, which means the feds will have a free pass to do whatever they need to do in plain sight—all in the name of protecting us all from a huge terrorist threat.’” Henn nods emphatically. “It’s brillz.”

“What if those two fuckers die in a shoot-out during a raid on the ‘terrorists’ compound’?” I ask. “That’s pretty sexy, isn’t it?”

“Perfecto,” Henn says. “Maybe those two fuckers ‘pulled weapons on officers’ during the raid? That’d be the cleanest for the feds and best for us, too—no way to trace anything back to us. Simple. Effective. Believable. The feds save the world. We have nothing to do with it. Great mega-story for the news outlets. It’s a win-win-win.”

Jonas nods. “Thanks, guys.” He looks emboldened. “I think that might work if I sell it right.”

Henn scrunches up his face, thinking. “Lemme see if I can’t get you a little insurance to help you out, big guy. Maybe I can dig up some more shit on the Secretary of Defense. Some compromising photos or whatnot. Kiddie porn on his computer. A dick pic he sent toa minor? I’m sure there’s something. There’s always something with these guys. A little insurance would be a good thing to have in your pocket in case the feds balk about taking those two guys out as part of the deal. ”

“Thanks, Henn,” Jonas says. “Yeah, insurance would be awesome.”

“Cool. No problem.”

“Is that everything, bro?” I ask.

Jonas looks at his watch. “Just one more quick thing. What about Oksana? Does she pull a weapon during the shoot-out or not?”

We all ponder the question for a moment, pursing our lips.

“The more people ‘pulled weapons on officers’ and didn’t make it out alive, the less believable the whole thing is,” Henn says. “Plus, women are much less likely to pull a weapon, statistically speaking. We don’t wanna raise any suspicion that anything’s hinky.”

Jonas clenches his jaw. “Did you uncover anything whatsoever to suggest Oksana had something to do with the hit on Sarah?”

“Or maybe knew about it beforehand?” I ask, my jaw clenching in sympathy with my brother’s. I want these fuckers dead every bit as much as he does.

Henn shakes his head. “Everything I’ve seen tells me Max ordered the hit and the Ukrainian Travolta carried it out. All evidence is that Oksana’s a pimpstress and a loyalist to mother Russia, but not a stone-cold killer. Max is the head of the snake. Indubitably.”

Jonas looks deep in thought.

I touch my brother’s shoulder. “I vote you be the God of theNewTestament, Jonas—show the perfect measure of force and mercy.”

Jonas runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I dunno.” He exhales. “I’ll think about it on the plane some more.”

“Okay. Follow your gut.” I hug him. “Be safe, bro.” I kiss him on the side of his neck.

“You, too,” Jonas says. He kisses my cheek. “Be careful in the banks, guys. Please.”

“We will.”

“Take extra good care of Kat.” He looks across the room at Sarah. She’s chatting and giggling happily with Kat. “My girl can’t live without her.”

I stare at Kat across the room, my heart suddenly bursting in my chest. “I won’t let anything happen to her, bro.”

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