“Thank you, Quinn.” I spread the kits out. They were balsa wood models of three different dinosaurs: a pteranodon, a stegosaurus, and a triceratops.
“You’re welcome. And if you have any difficulty with these, I’m sure Joe can help you.”
“That’s a good idea.” They didn’t look complicated, but they should keep the kid occupied. I set them aside and raised the lid of my laptop.
It didn’t take long to power it up. The information The Boss had sent was waiting in an email. I opened it and read through it quickly. Mostly it was background data regarding Gautier and the people high up in her organization, one of whom happened to be a man named Finchley.
“Son of a bitch. Son of a goddamned fucking bitch.”
“Mark?”
“Take a look at this, wouldja?”
“What…” He didn’t begin to swear—he was too classy a guy—but I could see he wasn’t happy about what I pointed out to him. “Do you think it’s likely to be the same Finchley we met last October?”