We left Parker as he was calling the 24/7 hotline number on the card.
“How did you get a card from Customs and Border Control?” Nikki asked as we climbed into her car. “And why?”
I wanted to play it as the cool detective who knows his business, but it was Nikki. She would almost certainly laugh or give me a flat look. “I’ve had a few cases dealing with smuggled items, before.”
“So you know this Colleen Fenton. Won’t she recognize you by description?”
Parker would certainly describe Nikki and me, particularly Nikki. It wouldn’t really do to get identified by the a border control agent. It was possible, if not likely, that someone at the Club had paid some of those agents off. Even if that wasn’t the case, it represented a loose end, a connection to us when we wanted anonymity.
“Never met her before,” I smiled. “Customs and Border Control sounds imposing, but it’s not the FBI. Regular people have to deal with them all the time, so people are constantly wandering in their offices. I picked cards from a few desks to have on hand, and to call with a question so I can bypass the switchboard.”
“You are quite a rogue at times, Matthew.”
“It’s my business.”