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of her years.”
    “Well, it sounds just
like her to pull something like this. She has the balls for it, we know that.”
    “Could be her. We’re
just not sure yet. The whole Ghost hysteria is really just the press trying to
sell papers,” admitted Quinn.
    “Everyone loves a
good Ghost story.” John remembered the packs of rabid reporters he’d had to
deal with every time the mysterious jewel thief took off with another rare gem.
“Besides, there hasn’t been any real Ghost activity since we put away Dornal
Zagen.”
    “I can’t argue with
that,” said Quinn, sounding as if he’d like to.
    “Maybe he’s the
Ghost,” observed John.
    “You still working
that angle?”
    “I’m not working any
angles anymore,” John replied matter-of-factly.
    “What would you say
if I told you Zagen busted out of Sing Sing this evening?”
    “You’re kidding!”
    Quinn sighed. “I wish
I freakin’ were.”
    “How did he get out?”
John was curious despite himself.
    “How’s he do a lot of
things?” asked Quinn, disgusted. “No one has any idea. The alarm went off and
they found his cell empty.”
    “So he vanished into
thin air?”
    “That’s exactly what
he did.”
    John was silent. He
automatically began laying a plan in his head to catch the notorious thief and
maybe find out for sure this time if Zagen really was the Ghost.
    “Look, here’s the
thing,” said Quinn, interrupting John’s thoughts. “I’m using all my resources
right now to deal with this Puck Diamond mess. You can imagine with the press
and Katherine Park what a nightmare it is. Now Dornal Zagen breaks out, and, on
top of that, the First Lady has decided to throw a big charity event—The
Diamond Ball. All the big jewelers, like Cartier and Bulgari, are going to be
there with models wearing their loot. The event’s being held at the Smithsonian
and do you happen to recall what’s in the Harry Winston Gallery of the
Smithsonian?”
    “The Hope Diamond. I
just read about it in The Post .”
    “That’s right, the
fucking Hope Diamond. The most famous jewel in the world. It’s like the worst
security nightmare since…I don’t even know when!”
    “I am so glad I don’t
have your job.” John shook his head in the dark.
    He could hear Quinn
nervously lighting a cigarette. “Are you sure?”
    “Oh yeah,” said John,
emphatically.
    Quinn changed his
tactics. “But it could be a great time to catch a few thieves, huh? You know
they’re all out there salivating—old Granny, the Ghost, Maggie the Cat,
Nicholas Bezuhov, and now Dornal Zagen is on the loose.”
    “I feel so out of the
loop.” John couldn’t help the old thrill that was starting to run through him.
    “So come back and
help me out!” begged Quinn.
    John sat back and
thought about it.
    Quinn exhaled. “You
there?”
    “I’m thinking,” said
John, watching a tugboat float down the Hudson. “I wish there was some way I
could sort of stick my toe in. I don’t want to go back to the FBI and get into
it again. I realize it’s too soon and feel like I fucked up enough the first
time around.”
    “Well, there actually
might be a way for you to do that.”
    “What are you talking
about?” asked John.
    “There’s this old
family friend of the First Lady, some Park Avenue brat, Veronica Rossmore. She
has a treasure trove of jewels and is coming down for the party. Her father asked
if we knew of anyone who could drive her and her booty down to DC and watch out
for her at the Diamond Ball…”
    John cut to the
chase. “In other words, she’s looking for a bodyguard.”
    “Exactly. It pays
insanely well. I mean, really good
money, and all you’d have to do is hang out with a beautiful, rich girl and
escort her to the ball. I’d have the benefit of knowing someone who had a clue
was watching her so I can do my job and not have to worry about it.”
    John hesitated. “I
don’t know.”
    “Listen, you just
said you wanted to get your feet wet and you’d be