“We were down for thirty-six hours, and I’m still trying to work all the bugs out of our own mainframe. The WBIS tech who dreamed up that trap is probably laughing his ass off. If I ever get my hands on Vincent—”
“Excuse me? How did he get involved?”
“He’s always involved!”
“Are you aware he’s been in Paris the past week?”
“Fuck it. Are you sure?”
“Yes. In addition, he was shot.”
“Yeah, I know.” He knew?
“How? Your mole?”
“Nah. She’s long gone.”
“Then how?”
“Wallace took off like a bat out of hell and dragged the WBIS’s chief sawbones along with him. I want to tell you, there was joy in Mudville that day when word got out that Vincent had a couple of bullet holes in him. I didn’t even have to pump the son of a bitch who spilled the beans. Although nothing was said about Paris.” He sounded aggrieved.
“How did you manage to get the information?”
“He was in this place on Mass. Avenue.”