"It's the truth," I said flatly. "Nothing more, nothing less."
"Huh." He finished his coffee, then leaned back in his chair again. "How do you expect me to find someone the Directorate—with all its resources—cannot? They have some of the strongest telepaths in Melbourne in their employ. What could I get that they can't?"
"They're tackling the situation from a criminal angle. I have people tackling it from a computer angle. What we need is someone on the street." I paused, and my smile held only the slightest trace of bitterness. "And we both know just how much you love digging the dirt in the street."
"You should do that more often," he said. "It suits you."
I stared at him for a heartbeat, totally confused. "Do what?"
"Smile."
Something twisted inside again. Old pain, old love, churning together, one fighting the other. Bastard, I thought. It was hard enough fighting the memories without him muddying the water by throwing compliments.
"I may want your help, Jak, but I don't want anything else from you. I don't like the way you treat your lovers."
He shrugged. "It was only a comment, not a flirtation."
"Well, keep such comments to yourself. I don't need them. I just need your help."
"Which I can't give if I don't actually have a starting point—other than the name of a man no one can find."
I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. "You still have the same number?" When he nodded, I attached a file and sent it to him. His phone beeped from the depths of his pockets. "That's all the information we have, on both the consortium and the three men."
"What about the people they were threatening?"
"Also there." I hesitated. "If you talk to Fay and Steven Kingston—the parents of the little girl—don't mention the soul stealer. They don't know the truth about their daughter's death. They don't know that the threats and Hanna's death are connected."
"Really?"