Michael Morley - Spider

'And hey, Mr Lawyerman,' said Fernandez, 'while he does that, maybe you could get us a couple of coffees and some doughnuts. We missed breakfast this morning.'

San Quirico D'Orcia, Tuscany The sun was slowly setting in San Quirico, sponging a silky mix of vermilion and gold across the darkening blue sky.

In Terry McLeod's bathroom, the Vent-Axia panel above the toilet came off easily enough in his hands. McLeod lifted out the stuff he'd hidden inside the metal vent and carried it through to the bedroom. It contained some special photographs and some extra special equipment that he needed to keep very secret.

Paullina the waitress had been a good companion. And, when he'd given her a generous fifty-euro tip on top of the hundred euros fee he'd insisted on her taking for her 'work' as his guide, then she'd been more than helpful. Some of the things she'd told him about the Kings would soon prove extremely valuable. She'd spoken at length about how the Americans had not known a thing about catering when they'd moved into La Casa Strada, how Carlo and Paolo had effectively run the business for the first six months, but then Mrs King began slowly to take control and seemed really passionate about the cooking and treating the guests as though they were visiting friends. McLeod had listened patiently as she'd rambled on about the food and the menus, the work that she did there and her ambitions once she had finished her studies. Eventually, with only the gentlest of hints, he was able to guide the conversation to what really interested him, former FBI agent Jack King.

Paullina hadn't known everything that McLeod had hoped, but she'd known enough. She described in detail how depressed Jack had been when she'd first met him. How he would stay in the private family quarters of the hotel and seemed almost uninterested in the staff or the guests, never making any effort to meet them or chat with them if they bumped into him in the corridors or gardens. She mentioned that about two years earlier he used to go off on walks, usually on his own, sometimes pushing his son in a buggy, just doing laps of San Quirico. He went around so many times that shopkeepers and locals said he was fuori di testa – off his head. McLeod soaked it all up, the more bad things that were said about hero Jack King the better, as far as he was concerned. Paullina mentioned that at first Jack had really let himself go, that his weight had ballooned and Nancy had to get Paolo to come up with a special diet to help him shed the pounds. McLeod would have loved to have seen that. Lately though, she said he'd apparently slimmed down and instead of the long and lonely walks, he could be seen jogging two or three times a week and was now looking in buona salute.

McLeod had asked where Jack was these days and she'd hesitated before saying she thought he was a long way away, maybe on the other side of Italy. What really excited McLeod though was when Paullina revealed that she thought maybe Jack's absence had something to do with the Italian police. She recalled that a plainclothes policewoman from Rome had turned up to see him. It seems there had been some kind of row between Mrs King and the policewoman, and it had ended with the policewoman ordering Mrs King to get her husband to call her because it was 'an urgent police matter'.

The thought made McLeod smile as he looked at the photographs of Jack that he'd stolen from an album in Nancy King's bedroom. 'I've got a big surprise coming for you, Mr FBI man,' he said, putting them to one side. Then he slowly unpacked the special equipment that he'd hidden.

The equipment he now planned to use on Nancy King.

JFK Airport, New York Jack's flight touched down at JFK terminal 4 bang on time. Howie was waiting out front with a car, a bearhug and some back-slapping that could have hospitalized a smaller person. They drove straight to the office, catching up on the way. 'You booked in anywhere?' he asked Jack as they finally got free of the snarled traffic around the airport.

'No, not yet. It was hard enough actually to get a flight out of Rome, so I didn't get round to it. Do you mind getting Janie or one of the other secretaries to fix a place?'

Howie scowled at him. 'No way. Not a chance, buddy, you're staying with us, for tonight, at least.' Howie's offer was partly out of politeness but mainly reflected his concern about how Jack might react to being back on the job and forced to spend a night on his own without anyone to talk to about it.

Jack slid the passenger seat back to stretch his legs. 'I don't want to put you and Carrie out.'

'You're not. Listen, I could do with a friend around the house right at the moment. And shit, man, I might not get to see you again until God knows when.'

'That's kind, thanks.' Jack took in the familiar buildings as the city started to roll up to the windshield. 'You know, this is the first time I've been back to New York since the breakdown. Hell, when Nancy and I caught our flights out to Italy, what, three years ago now, I would never have thought I'd be coming back here, and certainly not to work.'

Howie blared his horn at some idiot tourist trying to drive and read a map atthe same time. 'Get afriggin' cab next time, you friggin' moron!' he shouted.

Jack laughed. 'Nothing's changed then?'

Howie laughed too. 'Nothing at all, buddy. As you can see, it's the New York you always loved.'

The drive was good for Jack. It helped acclimatize him and sharpen him up for what lay ahead. 'I caught the footage just before I took off,' he said. 'Grim stuff. You got anything new on it?'

'A little something,' said Howie. 'Fernandez and I went to see this jerk Tariq. He was a gold-plated asshole to start with but we scared him about a bit and then he coughed more than a cancer ward.'

'He briefed up?'

'Yeah, some smart Alec, but he was no problem. Seemed BRK posted Tariq a mail with a website hyperlink and a password, and that's how he got the footage they've been putting on air.'

'We're running webmaster traces?'

'Of course, but both you and I already know a twelve-year-old can build sites this simple. BRK will have used a false identity when he spoke to the hosting service. He's sure to have uplifted only the most innocuous of video during the testing phase. He will have waited and only made the real stuff available on the day he sent that electronic mail out to Pan Arabia. Tech boys think it's dongle encrypted.'

'Say what?' said Jack. 'Is that like catching your dick in your zipper?'

Howie laughed. 'It's a computer coding trick that makes the footage available only for a short period of time. The dongle is like a timer fuse on a bomb; it ticks away and then boom! It blows it up and you can't work it any more.'

'So it is like getting your dick caught in your zipper,' said Jack.

Howie's cell phone rang as they turned into Federal Plaza. 'Yeah, hello,' he managed as he spun the wheel.

'Boss, it's Fernandez. The boys in Myrtle have found a body. They think it's Stan Mossman, our delivery boy.'

FBI Field Office, New York It took Jack King ten minutes to shake everyone's hand and another twenty to hug, kiss and say hi to all his female ex-colleagues.

'Man, you really should go to the Men's room and get brushed up,' said Howie. 'I've seen dudes come back from stag weekends with less lipstick on their collars.'

'It's a small price to pay for popularity,' joked Jack, deciding to take his advice. 'I'll see you in the briefing room.'

The pow-wow was a big one.

It was chaired by FBI Field Office director Joe Marsh, a small, thin man in his early forties with hair greying at the temples and a natural smile that most politicians would pay half their campaign funds for. To his right was NYPD deputy commissioner of operations Steven Flintoff, a barrel-chested oxofa guy with short-cut ginger hair and his trademark rolled-up sleeves. Behavioural scientists Howie Baumguard and Angelita Fernandez came next around the circular table, followed by Elizabeth Laing, a Roseanne Barr lookalike employed as press information officer for the NYPD, and Julian Hopkins, the FBI's local press guy. They were still pouring each other coffee and water when Jack walked in and greeted them with a confident, 'Good morning everybody!'