"OK, then. Tell him the truth... that someone was snapping shots of the two of you—perhaps a blackmailer... or worse."
"What kind of blackmailer would have already put a picture inThe Post?And why wouldThe Posteven run such tabloid trash?"
"They didn't... really. It was never in the actual newspaper. Someone hacked the website... it's probably down by now. We're looking into that too."
Demarco quickly tabbed over and saw that what Jack said was true... the lead page was now about a Congressional hearing, something much more suitable forThe Post.
Jack continued: "As far as blackmail... there are many different kinds, D. The pic could be from a kidnapper, for all we know... or a terrorist and the story is just a form of ransom notice."
"What about the e-mail he sent me?"
"We don't know that he wrote it."
"He referenced our conversation"
"Shotgun mikes... bugs."
Demarco rolled his eyes, glancing over his reading glasses. "That all sounds a little far-fetched, Secret Agent Man."
"You're right. It does. But the point is we don't know anything right now. And we won't until we see him in person or hear from whoever is responsible."
"If I do this, Jack, I want to be there... as a kind of mediator."
Jack looked legitimately stung. "You don't trust me?"
"I want to."
"I had full intentions of you being there, D. But I'll also remind you that this is national security we're talking. You're just playing a small part."
"I'm big, honey," Demarco said... giving his best Gloria Swanson. "It's the pictures that got small."
Jack stared at him, completely oblivious of theSunset Boulevardreference. "Am I missing something?"
Demarco held up a flat palm. "You're pretty... but I am not talking to you."
Jack continued to stare, confused.
"Never mind," Demarco fluttered his hands, dismissing the failed attempts at humor away. "But I do want you to reach deep down into that government hardened heart of yours and realize that this is just a kid we're talking about. He's barely twenty if that. Give him a chance, Jack."
Jack considered... and again his eyes changed, softened. "OK... you win. We'll meet with him and just talk. Hopefully, we can persuade him to return... and we all sleep well tonight."
Demarco raised an eyebrow.
"Get him to meet us somewhere near... with a lot of people... the Spanish Steps."
Demarco drafted a quick e-mail. He did this pretending that Jack had never shown up and that he was just speaking with a friend. He was surprised at how fast he typed the words. Once finished, he slid the laptop toward Jack and let him proofread it.
"It's good. Send it."
Demarco pressed the SEND button and closed the clamshell. "Now what?" he asked with a mischievous grin.
"We wait," Jack said, disregarding the innuendo. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know what you did before you became—."
"—a government hooker?"
"I thought the term male escort was preferred."
"It is. I embrace the slang because it's Gaga."
