The Matter of the Vanishing Greyhound
Golden Gate Disappearing Greyhound Bus Caper
Master of the Impossible Crime
“Where is he now?”
Wu punched up the homing template on his computer screen as he looked over his shoulder at the office door through which he could see blue uniforms scurrying around in the Property room. “He’s at the Saint Francis Hotel. The old man’s given up on us!”
“Good. We’re getting close to finished now. Keep an eye on him, say every 15 minutes. If he moves, let me know.”
“On the cell?”
“Yeah. I’ll be out of here in a dozen minutes. By the by, Hopkins is back in.” John said it offhandedly, as if it meant nothing.
“Not good. Not bad. Be careful. He’s not a professional.”
“He’s worth $7 million.”
“Seven? I thought it was five.” Wu leaned forward unconsciously, his hand cupping the phone cradle.
“It was. Harrah wasn’t very cooperative. It’s going to cost him an extra two.”
“Will he pay?”
There was silence at both ends of the line for a moment. Then Wu said, “I’ll be in touch if the old man moves.”