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Chapter 85

The next morning is lazy. All four of us sleep late, then have breakfast together in the penthouse. The Frenchies nurse their hangovers with Bloody Marys as we watch the FBI’s press conference on CNN.

“ – a raid on a Marin County estate yesterday, whose owner was suspected of funding terrorism abroad – ”

“What?!” Grant shouts at the TV.

“I guess we’re not the only ones who can tell whoppers,” I remark.

The FBI spokesperson never mentions serial murders, the house in Bel Air, the name ‘Dieter Lassenbach,’ or anything remotely approaching reality. And it takes a full five minutes before they state that the ‘suspected terrorist’ hired a group of mercenaries to pose as FBI agents.

“It was those mercenaries who raided the Manhattan home of billionaire architect Grant Carlson almost a week ago. It also appears that the stolen works of art found in Carlson’s penthouse were planted there by the suspect, in some sort of bizarre feud between the two parties.”

“About time they got around to tha
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