"Know him? I may kill the prick for not talking to me sooner."
Approximately five seconds after this conversation my phone erupted.
"Tell me, Judas," he yelled, "is it true you're helping them out? I want the goddamn truth and I want it now."
"Jack?" I finally recognized the voice. "Helping who?"
"You know who, you fucker. Our good friends the goddam Japs, that's who. They're—"
"Jack, calm down a second," I interrupted. "It's just possible this whole thing is some kind of scam. Not at all what it seems."
"Talk to me."
"Not over the phone. Client confidentiality. But if you're coming up anytime soon, I'm mad enough to give you a full rundown of all I know, strictly off the record."
"I'm scheduled in on the six o'clock shuttle. Where can we meet?"
"How about the club? I promise you an earful."