Jason and Peter had abandoned the Infiniti behind an aviation firm's offices and were waiting in a hotel lobby. Jason still wasn't sure what kind of person Peter was, but he found much to admire in him. He felt like he had met a real action hero and was participating in his adventure. Peter sat reading a newspaper, his coat draped over the comfortable chair.
"So who is this guy we're waiting for?" Jason said.
"You'll be happy to know he's a Syrian cop," Peter said in a low voice, "well, ex-cop. He doesn't work for tax money, anyway."
"A private eye?"
"Sort of, but he considers himself more of a protector and server."
"A cop for hire?"
"Exactly. Guys like us have to work in secret since our activities are considered illegal in most places. But we feel like we do more good than state-run cops and soldiers. They're mostly lookin' out for each other and whoever's runnin' the show. Especially in places like this. And we network with people in low places to do good things, like findin' your friend. That's another difference--we don't let pesky things like laws or someone else's moral standard get in the way of doin' what needs to be done. We have our own code."
"So you're criminals."
"We're the real good guys. Like the posse in the old westerns, except that we're everywhere. And we don't come cheap."
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