The Son of John Devlin Read Online Free

him. When Emily Lawrence walked into the room, Devlin did not focus on the smoothness of her skin or the silkiness of her jet-black hair, cut short high on the back of her neck, or the prominent cheekbones or the full lips or the narrowed waist or the shapely calf muscle. When she walked into the room, his gaze was instead fixed upon her blue eyes, on their bright awareness. She moved easily toward her seat at the head of the conference table, and as she did so she greeted those in attendance with brief hellos. He followed her closely as she moved, expecting her to say something to someone else before turning to him. But she looked in his direction abruptly, and he was caught staring and felt his face flush as he quickly looked down and then back up, smiling at her. She watched him for a moment as though amused by his reaction. She stepped in his direction, and the beat of his heart quickened. She reached out to shake his hand, and held it a moment longer than she’d grasped the others’. Or had he imagined it?
    Emily Lawrence was Assistant United States Attorney for the criminal division in Boston. She was thirty-threeyears old, five feet seven inches tall, with the physique of an athlete. In college, she’d been a champion squash player, and still played at a top amateur level. In her dark blue wool suit and beige silk shirt, she looked serious and businesslike. Yet beautiful. She had an open face, high cheekbones, a delicate jawline, and a generous, infectious smile when she let it be seen.
    She began the meeting, but Jack was not paying attention to what she was saying. He thought instead about the two occasions when they had discussed the possibility of going out, only to have circumstances intervene. He’d met her at a law enforcement conference and later called to invite her to a movie. She’d had plans, however. A month later she invited him to dinner. He had had plans. That was three months ago, and nothing had happened in the meantime.
    Emily Lawrence took her place at the head of the conference table. Seated around the table were Luke Downey, director of the State Attorney General’s Criminal Division; Kevin Duffy, chief of investigations for the FBI in Boston; Anita Rogan, Assistant District Attorney for Suffolk County; and, from the Boston Police Department, Devlin and Del Rio.
    Emily looked around the table to make sure everyone was in place. She glanced down at her notes and began speaking.
    “We have some information that a major deal is in the works,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “The information comes from a source who has proven reliable in the past. One Mr. Jones.”
    “From the Suarez case?” Anita Rogan asked.
    “The very same.”
    Those around the table nodded, for Mr. Jones hadestablished himself as a knowledgeable and reliable witness. In the Suarez case he had traded his testimony for a substantial reduction in his sentence.
    “So he’s talking again,” said Downey, the man from the State Attorney General’s office.
    “I thought he was tapped out?” said the FBI’s Duffy.
    “He was,” said Emily Lawrence. “But he’s still connected, and he has fresh information.”
    “Out of the blue?” Duffy asked.
    “His lawyer came to us, told us he had something he wanted to talk about,” said Emily. “Something new.”
    “Any good?” Duffy asked.
    Emily Lawrence shifted in her chair and leaned forward. “Very good,” she said. “Potentially very good. Mr. Jones says there is a very significant deal about to happen. When exactly, he cannot say. But soon. What’s significant about it is that it involves new people. Who, he will not say, at the moment. But he said there’s a new cast, and a new product.”
    There were looks of surprise around the table.
    “Not coke or smack?” Anita Rogan asked.
    “Morphine,” said Emily Lawrence. “Pure, medical-grade morphine.”
    “Wow,” Downey said. “That’s different.”
    “Very,” nodded Emily Lawrence.
    “Morphine?”