Adams and Tracy meet at Seattle’s First Taiwanese Malatang on Freemont Avenue, a restaurant that specialises in Chinese Foods. They sit in a private booth towards the back of the restaurant, far from the prying eyes of passers-by. They have been served some drinks but are yet to order any food, being too engrossed in their discussions.

“That’s all, Tracy. My organisation is highly interested in recovering that document by all means. If indeed such a list exists, we more than anyone else deserve to have it. I suggest you go to Taiwan and talk to Mary. Then visit any of the other six girls at random and try and ferret out the list in case one of them has it. You’ll be travelling a lot because the girls are scattered all over the globe. My organisation is ready to foot the bill; we’ll spare no expense to get the papers. By evening time, a hundred thousand will be paid into your account as travelling expenses and incidentals. As usual, your bill will be settled after the job is done.”

Tracy catches her breath at the sum casually mentioned by Adams.

“The papers must mean a lot to you people if you’re ready to splash out that amount as travelling expenses!”

“It does, Tracy. Boko Haram’s a wicked and barbaric terrorist organisation that has killed more than two hundred thousand people and displaced millions in my country Nigeria and the West African region. It can’t remain powerful unless some stinking rich individuals support it with cash and logistics. Possessing those papers will help the governments of the world deal with the sponsors and cut off the lifeblood of Boko Haram. No amount’s too much to spend on such a worthy project.”

“I agree,” says Tracy, remembering her last mission and the brutal murder of the Chadian woman. Ironically, she holds no grudge against the terrorists for their own near death. As far as she is concerned, sudden death is the first item in the conditions of service of every soldier.

“Let’s eat, so that you could catch the next flight back to Columbus.”

They order the house speciality and tuck in.

“So how do you find my son, Tracy?”

“Your carbon copy, you mean?” Adams laughs and Tracy joins in. “He’s a very interesting and intelligent person from the little I saw of him.”

“Oh, yes. He’s quite intelligent,” says the father proudly between mouthfuls. Then he puts down his cutlery and looks intently at Tracy. “Could I ask you a favour, Tracy?”

“Sure.”

“Could you keep an eye on him for me? Unofficial, sort of?”

“Sure. But isn’t he old enough to take care of himself without Papa worrying himself sick?”

“At forty-three, he’s surely old enough to take care of himself. But…but… I can’t explain further. If you can do it, fine, if not, fine.”

“No problem, Professor. I’ll be glad to oblige you.”

“Thanks, Tracy. It’s important to me.”

Shortly after, they finish their meals and Tracy leaves to catch the next flight back to Columbus. On his way to the office, Adams stops at a pay phone, slots some coins into the machine and dials.

“Hello!” says a voice at the other end.

“It’s me, Chairman. I’ve hired and mobilised the private investigator I told you about.”

“Who?”

“Captain Tracy Winters, retired.”

“Daughter of General Winters formerly of the Infantry?”

“The same, Chairman. I once engaged her services on a delicate case in my company. She was excellent.”

“I’ve heard about Captain Ice Block!” says the chairman with a chuckle. “She’s a good choice, and from a solid military background. Carry on, Secretary, but keep me apprised of developments. Bye.”

The line goes dead. Adams climbs into his car and heads for his office with a satisfied grin spreading all over his face.