At the loft, Bly's got his arm in a sling as he looks over the blackmail file that Michael just handed him. Meanwhile Michael duct-tapes the back of his green chair back together. Really? Duct tape? Couldn't Michael just put the chair wherever he parks the Charger when it needs to heal itself? "Love your attention to detail, Michael," Bly all but moans appreciatively. "This would have been quite the career-ender." Michael returns the compliment. "I wasn't expecting you to come back with even better leverage. Well played." Michael eases into his newly repaired chair and asks Bly what he was able to find out about that Caymans account. Bly starts by saying, "We have ways of investigating that most people don't know about. No one has the reach that we do. But this?" Bly hands Michael a sheet of paper that shows the bank and the actual banker behind the account, but there's no name attached. But what is attached is what Bly calls "an electronic tripwire of sorts." And either he or Barry triggered it. "Whoever you're looking for, they know you're coming," Bly warns. He shakes Michael's hand and wishes him good luck. And then he walks out, to leave Michael to suck on that for a week. And to wonder how many times he's going to be able to get in and out of that chair before sticking to it.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com