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to say, but evidently thinks better of completing the not necessarily complimentary word. “Like I said, back all the way off the Marcus case. Go peek in windows or bug some adulterer. Whatever. It will go down hard for you if you interfere again now that you have been officially warned.”
    Knowing better, I press it anyway, “Why? Why is Homeland Security interested in the unfortunate and untimely demise of a pleasant young man?”
    “Don’t play the buffoon, McGee. Just get the message. We won’t tolerate your interference again. Today’s meet is a friendly request. Tomorrow will go hard for you. Now step out of my way and get your thug to do the same thing. Oh, I do know a little about the law. The penalties for assaulting a federal officer are serious. Don’t even think about it.”
    Much as I enjoy our little tête-à-tête, I do not think it wise to press my luck any further. I stand aside and nod to Ivory to do the same.

Chapter Five
    T he staff meeting starts at eight o’clock as usual, just after the four special agents of Homeland Security leave the building as unobtrusively as they came in.
    The unspoken—and then the spoken—question on the lips of everyone in the office is, “What was all of that about?”
    I have to confess that I have no idea, but have no intention of “backing-off” as I was ordered. I had had a crawful of orders when I worked for the FBI and then for the CIA. I am not a “take-orders” kind of a guy, and that is why I set up my own shop. Ivory White never took an order in his life, and I like him for that.
    Caitlin asks the most salient question, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
    “That’s the question of the day, Caitlin,” I say, “and I, for one, am absolutely intrigued. This case is looking like a doozy with national and international implications. I want to find the answers even if we don’t ever get paid. That okay with the rest of you guys?”
    Everyone in the firm nods agreement, and Ivory snarls with venom, “I don’t like being kicked around in my own space by my own government, and not being able to kick back. You bet I want to know things, but in the end of this I want to kick somebody hard enough that he has to button his pants around his neck because that’ll be where his butt’s gonna be.”
    There is general agreement on that score.
    “All right, here are some assignments; so, we can keep focused. I’ll fill Director Norcroft in. Caitlin, please get hold of Mary Margaret MacLeese and Martin Redworth—your NYPD pals. I think we need to bring them onboard. Ivory, how about you dig hard into young Decklin’s activities? Consult the denizens of the dark and see what you can find that the boy wanted to hide. David, get your guys in IT to find every little thing about father Marcus, mother Anne, and the Global Investment Bank. See if you can turn up anything hinky. Be careful, but get into the Solntsevskaya Bratva phone and electronic messaging system. There has to be a solid connection to Decklin or his parents somewhere in there. Remember, they’re good—and they’re violent. Cover your tracks,” I tell them.
    “Hey, boss, that’s like telling Werner Von Braun how to light a match,” David Harger says, and we adjourn the meeting with an appreciative laugh.
    I do some paperwork while Caitlin makes the calls. The NYPD detectives are more than happy to join us and agree that it all has to be very hush-hush. Their careers will be in the toilet if they get crosswise with Homeland Security or they proceed against the ultra wealthy Marcus clan with insufficient evidence. Caitlin makes an appointment with Howard and Anne Marcus for lunch. She suggests Loop, a reasonable and inexpensive sushi place on East 21 st and Third Avenue, knowing that the sushi is good; and the rest of the food is no better than middling; and it is Filipino. She grits her teeth and tells Anne that we will pay. Anne agrees to the meet for lunch, but begs off going to Loop