Insatiable

table. Jack Bauer, inspired by this development, leapt onto the couch, where he was strictly

forbidden by Meena from sitting. Jon moved over a little to make room for him. “And we’re

going to catch them. Because guess what? The New York City Police Department? Hiring. All

you gotta be is over seventeen and a half years of age and under thirty-five. Bingo. That’s us.”

“Also crazy. Did you read that part? How somebody would have to be crazy to apply to

be a cop in this freaking city?”

“Yes, in addition to a written and physical exam, there is a psych evaluation,” Jon said,

glancing at his laptop. “And you might have some problems passing that part, seeing as how

you were a mortgage-backed-security trader.”

“Are you done?” Adam asked. “Because I have to go now.”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “Okay, go to the NYPD website. I really think we should do this. We

can do something to make a difference, Weinberg. We can arrest perps. We can help little

abused children.”

“Listen to you,” Adam said. But Jon could hear clicking in the background and knew

Weinberg was doing as he’d asked him to. “Perps. Like you know anything about perps. Have

you been watching The Wire again?”

“I’m serious. Think about it. What did we do at our last jobs? Sure, we made a ton of

cash, for other people and for ourselves. But did we really touch people’s lives in a meaningful

way? No.”

“I beg to differ,” Adam said. “I handled the Alaska Teachers’ Union pension fund.”

“And,” Jon said, “what happened to it, Adam?”

Adam grumbled, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Those teachers are gonna be fine,” Jon said. “Okay, probably not. But maybe getting

laid off is a blessing in disguise. This could be our chance to give back what we lost. By

helping people who are really in need.”

“And carry guns,” Adam pointed out. “Admit it, Harper. The part you like is the part

where we get guns.”

“The thought that we would be issued firearms and permission to legally carry them did

cross my mind,” Jon said. “But it’s really about helping people, Weinberg. Do you honestly

just want to let this serial killer you’re worried about roam around free?”

“No,” Adam said. “I want to find a job doing what I’m trained to do. I would like to

implement cash and derivatives strategies and execute trades while communicating market

information and trends to other investment professionals within the firm.”

“Really?” Jon couldn’t hide his disappointment. “That’s the line you’re going with on

the résumé?”

“That’s what I told the HR rep at TransCarta,” Adam said. “Which is the only place that

seems to be hiring right now.”

“When you could be saving lives.”

“Let me ask you something,” Adam said. “Have you run this one by your sister?”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked defensively.

“I think you know what I mean,” Adam said. “I mean, have you told that bat-shit-crazy

sister of yours that you’re thinking of applying for a job with the NYPD?”

“I don’t have to tell my sister everything I’m thinking about doing,” Jon said stiffly.

“Oh, yeah?” Adam laughed in an evil way. “Well, I’m not applying for a job with the

NYPD unless your sister says she sees the two of us retiring as lieutenants or whatever.”

Jon said, with a spurt of irritation, “You should know by now it doesn’t work that way

with her.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “I guess if it did, neither of us would be in this situation, would

we?”

Jon sighed. His sister’s gift had never exactly made life easier for him. Why couldn’t she

have been able to predict winning lottery numbers, or which girl in the bar was most likely to

sleep with him, or something actually useful? Hearing the ways in which he might conceivably

die was interesting, Jon supposed.

But he’d rather have gotten rich. Or laid.

Jon heard the scrape of Meena’s key in the lock. Jack Bauer heard it too, and quickly

leapt off the couch to return to his dog bed.

Jon said, “We’ll talk about this later. I gotta go,” to Adam, then hung up and took his

feet off the coffee table.

Meena came in looking flustered and fresh faced, as she always did when she returned

from anywhere. She asked, “Was Jack Bauer on the couch just now?”

“Of course not,” Jon said, getting up. “How was your day, dear?”

“It sucked. I met a girl on the subway I think is going to end up sold into white slavery

and then killed.”

“Sweet,” Jon said sarcastically.

“Tell me about it,” Meena said. “And Shoshona got the head writer gig. And the network

is mandating a crappy vampire story line, so my beautiful and totally awe-inspiring proposal

about the bad boy with the police chief dad was completely dead on arrival.”

“Shoshona got the head writer gig?” Jon asked. “That blows. You gave the subway girl

your card, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Meena said, throwing her keys into the little tray on the kitchen counter, which

she’d started keeping there for that purpose after Jon finally pointed out that her psychic power

was useless at finding the things she kept losing. “Hopefully she’ll call.”

“What about Taylor?” Jon asked. He tried to keep his voice casual. He’d had a crush on

Taylor Mackenzie—whom his sister had pointed out many times was way too young for him—

since Meena had first started writing for the show.

“She’s the one getting the new vampire boyfriend,” Meena said. “They’ve got Gregory

Bane’s best friend coming in to read with her on Friday. He’s hot, apparently. I think I saw

him leaving the office with Shoshona tonight. But it was mostly only the back of his head.”

Jon glanced at his reflection in the round antique mirror Meena had hanging above the

dining table.

“ I’m hot,” he said, admiring his own reflection. “What do you think? Don’t I look like

vampire material to you?”

Meena snorted. “Right. Playing a chorus member in the musical Mame when you were

in high school doesn’t count as acting experience. Especially since you only did it for extra

credit to keep from getting kicked off the baseball team thanks to your D in Spanish.”

She shrugged out of her jacket and crossed the room to meet Jack Bauer, who’d run over

to give her a welcome lick.

“And how’s my little man?” she asked. “Did you save the world today? I think you did. I

think you saved the world from nuclear annihilation, just like you do every single twenty-four

hours. Look at you. Just look at you.”

Jack Bauer was a Pomeranian-chow mix Meena had insisted on bringing home from the

ASPCA the first time they’d ever set foot in it, “just to look,” after David had walked out on

her and she’d been pretty much comatose with depression. The tiny mutt had been sitting in a

big empty cage by himself, his huge brown eyes so filled with anxiety that Meena had

remarked that, with his blond fur, he resembled Kiefer Sutherland during a particularly

dramatic moment on the television show 24.

When the dog had fallen into her arms as soon as the cage door was opened, showering

her face with grateful kisses, the inevitable adoption was sealed, and the name Jack Bauer

stuck, because the anxious look in the mutt’s eyes rarely vanished all the way, unless he was

lounging in the apartment by Meena’s side.

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