Michael was saying that we should start packing up to go home. He was collecting his mail, and I saw the clerk hand him a small leather pouch. “Maybe just hang in London for a day or two and then split.” It sounded good to me, and I immediately started thinking of buying gifts for Mrs. Rosario and the old man. Mei-Mei was whispering something stupid to Drego. I couldn’t hear it, but I knew it was stupid. Javier was already in the elevator when Michael called to him. There was an urgency in his voice, and we all stopped. Drego caught the elevator door and Javier powered out. We all waited as Javier took the pouch and the paper that Michael handed him. “This legit?” Michael asked Javier. “Could be.” Javier turned over the paper. “Let’s call the Brits.” “What’s up?” Tristan. “This is a diplomatic pouch, and there’s a message in it that’s supposed to be from a Sayeed Ibn Zayad,” Michael said. “Who’s that?” Tristan. Michael shrugging. Everybody else too pooped to care.
