Page 50 of Gem Warfare

“Do you remember the names he asked for?” I asked.

Weaver pushed the license away. “My memory’s good but notthatgood.”

“Did he tell you his name?”

“I doubt it and I wouldn’t have told him mine either. Neither of us needed to know that kind of information.”

“So tell us how this works,” Garrett said. “He’s introduced to you. Then what?”

“A new client tells me what they’re looking for and pays up front. I take photos and any details I need. I make a note if they can pass for any other ethnicity. You’d be surprised who could pass for whom,” he said with a shrug. “I tell them to wait two weeks and give them a key to a mailbox. They get the location once I’ve made my drop off. We met only for the job. Less risk that way.”

“And if they want to commission another job? Like this guy did?” I asked.

“Then he has a way to get in touch. Back then, I’d use a voicemail box to pick up messages, or an intermediary.”

“You said ‘back then’,” said Garrett.

“Well, I’m not doing itnow,” said Weaver with a shake of his head. “Plus, I saw the driver’s license. I know this isn’t recent work and I know I haven’t seen this guy in years. A decade or two, maybe. Closer to two, I think. Then there’s the small matter of my prison sentence. I’ve been out of the game for a while.”

“And will be staying that way,” interjected Don.

“Quite right, Don,” said Weaver, nodding along, although I wasn’t sure if anyone totally believed him. He was too quick, too slick, and too congenial to be totally trustworthy. “I met this guy three or four times, and then nothing.”

“Did he give you a reason for not returning?”

“None. He just didn’t return.”

“What did you think happened to him?”

“I didn’t think anything. I wasn’t interested in his life story. Unlike you two,” he added. “I’ll admit to the forgeries but I can’t help you any further.”

“Thanks for your time,” said Garrett.

“No problem,” said Weaver. “Thatprobablyhelps, right?”

Garrett nodded, and Don said, “I’ll make a note in your file that you were helpful and courteous.”

“I’ll take it,” said Weaver.

Garrett and I filed out, Don just behind us, shutting the door behind him. “I hope you got what you wanted?” he said.

“Unfortunately no, but it’s par for the course. Not everyone’s going to have a viable lead for us,” said Garrett.

Don stuck out his hand, shaking ours. “Let me know if I can be any more help.”

We thanked him again and headed out.

“It was a long shot,” I said, hoping to remind Garrett of the fact.

“Yeah. Shame we didn’t learn anything useful. A few more aliases could have been helpful in building the movements of this guy. A real name would have been better.”

“We do know he didn’t commission any identification documents for his son,” I said. “Perhaps he wanted to keep the boy well out of anything nefarious he was doing.”

“Sounds like he might have gotten one thing right in his life,” said Garrett. “Although that does make me wonder about thekid. Given that no IDs were commissioned for the boy, it doesn’t sound like he lived with him, so where was he? Who looked after him while Joe Smithson was away on jobs? Who’s the mom? Were they even related?”

“You think the boy might be, what? A friend? No way. The age gap is too big. They’d have very little in common.”

“Nephew then?”

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