“He’s behind the wheel because he, unlike me, has not been imbibing beer. He’s also remarkably calm. “It’s all part of his play,” he says. “Who?” “Mr. Martin Mandrake.” He reaches down to his belt, unclips his cell phone, and hands it to me. “Danny, could you please press speed-dial fourteen?” “Sure,” I say. Since New Jersey has a handheld-cell-phone law, no way is Ceepak dialing while driving. “Who is it?” “Christopher Miller.” The FBI guy. “You want me to put it on speakerphone?” I ask after p...ressing the speed-dial digits. “Roger that.” And that, my friends, is how you make a hands-free cell-phone call without tearing apart the interior of your car and doing a bunch of fancy wiring. “Hello?” A little girl answers the phone. “Angela, this is your father’s friend, John Ceepak.” “Hello.” “Is your daddy home?” “Yes.” “May I speak with him?” “Okay.” And we wait. We hear the Miller family phone clomping to the floor or a very hard kitchen counter, and Angela, who’s probably ten, screaming “Daddy?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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