"It would be better if you didn't tell Mr. Finnegan we talked to you," J.T. said. "In fact, it would be better if you didn't call him again at all."

"Oh no," Mary said and swallowed. "Never again. Ever. You won't tell Bryce?"

"No," J.T. said.

"What about you?" Mary said to Lucy.

"My lips are sealed as long as yours are," Lucy said. "But if you call Finnegan again, Bryce gets the whole thing, storyboarded with sound effects."

"I won't, I won't." Mary's face crumpled. "Except I think he's going to marry Althea anyway. If I'd just gotten the money sooner, if I'd just had the boobs…"

"Maybe yours will be better," Lucy said. "Does she have the expensive ones?"

"Yes," Mary and J.T. said together.

Lucy looked at J.T. with what she sincerely hoped was contempt.

J.T. said, "We have to go now."

"We certainly do," Lucy said, glaring at him.

"Should I be on the set tonight?" Mary said, pitifully.

"No," Lucy said as J.T. said, "Yes," and Lucy glared at him again.

"We're probably not going to shoot tonight," Lucy said. "Stay by the phone and Gloom will call you if we need you."

"We're shooting," J.T. said.

"Stay by the phone," Lucy said and all but shoved J.T. out the door.

"I say we're not shooting," she told him when they were alone in the hall. "So stop undermining me."

"Lucy, you're going to have to," J.T. said. "Call Finnegan and set up a meet."

"What?"

"The people I work for would like to know where Finnegan is," J.T. said patiently. "Set up a meet for this afternoon."

"I am also the people you work for," Lucy said.

"Tell him if he doesn't meet, you won't shoot tonight," J.T. said. "You'll like that."

Lucy leaned against the flocked wallpaper. "You really think we really have to film tonight?"

"Not if we nab Finnegan beforehand."

Lucy took out her cell phone and held out her hand for the paper with Finnegan's number. "I refuse to do anything that might mean somebody is going to get hurt."

"Nobody's going to get hurt," J.T. began.

"I thought you weren't going to lie to me anymore," Lucy said and punched in the numbers.

"I hope," J.T. finished.

"Yeah, me too," Lucy said, and then Finnegan answered and she went to work.

Wilder dropped Lucy off at the camper so she could call the hospital to check on Stephanie and take Daisy and Pepper back to the crew hotel. Then he went to the diner to meet Crawford. He took the seat across from the agent and said, "So which alphabet soup are you?"

"What?"

Some things never changed. "Your ID this morning was FBI. You told me you were CIA. Or is it NSA? DEA? NRA? ASPCA?"

"Oh, I'm CIA," Crawford said. "I pulled the FBI ID because I didn't know who I'd be talking to. I'd just come from the accident scene and needed cover. People tend to get nervous when they see CIA."

Especially since the CIA wasn't legally allowed to act inside the borders. And if Crawford was carrying FBI ID, he was a leg up on the usual CIA clown. It meant he had official cover for action. "Was it an accident?"

"Yes."

"You sound very sure."

"The police forensics people went over the car and the accident scene. She hit the side of the bridge. Must have dozed off."

A rope breaks. A skid snaps. A driver dozes off. Three accidents. Three strikes. And now Finnegan was looming, which he imagined was the CIA's plan all along. Wilder tried to relax his back, resisting the desire to look over his shoulder. "Finnegan is coming this afternoon."

Crawford's eyes widened and Wilder glanced to his rear. Nobody with guns barging in.

"No shit?"

"Lucy-" He stopped. "Armstrong called him and told him she was shutting down the film. He insisted on meeting her. Today."

"Where? When?"

"We don't know yet. He'll call her back with that."

Crawford leaned back in his seat. Wilder watched his eyes. They were scanning the room even as he was thinking.

He didn't just learn that, Wilder thought. Fuck-head's been playing me so I'd be off guard.

"Okay," Crawford finally said. "Would she be willing to wear a wire and plant a bug?"

"You don't need to wire her."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to the meeting with her. And you're not wiring me either. Because you're arresting Finnegan, right?"

"Wrong."

"Why not?"

"Finnegan is just a piece of the puzzle." Crawford began to look less self-possessed. "We have bigger fish to fry."

Fuck. "You want Letsky. This whole circus is about Letsky."

"Right."

Lucy was going to be pissed. Wilder shook his head. "I don't see how-"

Crawford leaned forward. "Letsky has set up a meeting with Finnegan for midnight. We want that meeting."

Double fuck-Lucy was going to be really pissed. Not that she wasn't furious already. "Letsky's close by?"

"Given the timing of the meeting, yes. We suspect he's offshore, in international waters."

"So why don't you just go to the meeting place and take Letsky down?'

"We don't know where it is. We know when. Finnegan knows where. Could be anywhere within a couple hours' flying time. That's a big damn circle to cover."

"Why are they meeting?"

Crawford drummed his fingers on the table for several moments. "Finnegan owes Letsky and he's going to repay him."

"Fifty million?" Wilder asked. "Where'd he get that kind of money?"

"Not money," Crawford said. "Finnegan's giving Letsky the art he originally bought."

Wilder rubbed his forehead where a headache was beginning to pulse. "How?"

"Using the chopper in the movie stunt."

That's why they need the cargo net. But it still made no sense. "I thought the art was seized in Mexico. Where's it at right now?"

Crawford smiled. "You don't need to worry about that."

"What do I need to worry about other than you lying to me?"

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you the truth. You didn't have a need to know."

Wilder wondered how much more was going on that Crawford had determined he didn't have a need to know. Of course there was no point in asking that, because he didn't have a need to know. Spooks and their games.

Crawford reached under the table and Wilder tensed, but the CIA man pulled out a small metal case and placed it on the worn surface. He paused as the waitress came by and refilled their coffees. Then he opened the lid, revealing several objects set in foam padding.

" I racking transmitter,' Crawford said, tapping a dime-sized device, fie touched the cigarette-pack-size unit. "Tracking receiver." He pointed at two smaller white pieces. "Extra batteries for the tracker, You shouldn't need them. This will all be over within twenty-four hours." He shut the lid and slid it across the table to Wilder.

"What or who do you want me to bug?" Wilder asked.

"Finnegan, of course, since you're going to the meeting and you won't let us wire you. I was going to have you put it on Nash, but we only needed him to lead us to Finnegan. Now that you've got Finnegan…" Crawford shrugged.

Wilder felt three steps behind and he didn't like it. "What's Nash's role in this?"

"He's getting Finnegan to the meeting with Letsky."

Wilder shook his head. "This is a pretty elaborate setup just for a helicopter ride. He could hire anybody for that."

"Oh, Finnegan is indeed laundering money through the film," Crawford said. "Two birds with one stone. He still has to make a living. He's been paying Letsky enough to keep him off his ass long enough to make restitution. Finnegan needs the helicopter scene for that. Law enforcement tends to get curious about helicopters buzzing bridges and the swamp, but not if it's a movie shoot."

"So during the last stunt tonight, Nash and Finnegan are going to take the chopper and fly to meet Letsky somewhere?"