Knowledge
Eliot leaned against the wall and studied the departure board. When he was satisfied with his choice he dialed the phone.
"Interpol," said the voice on the line in a crisp British accent.
In an equally posh accent, one that would made Sophie proud enough to burst, Eliot replied, "I need to speak to the officer in charge of the Kentman gun running investigation."
"One moment please."
Eliot scanned the crowds coming and going down the concourse.
"Officer Sterling is not available, may I take a message?"
"This is Barrington Johnston-Jones. Tell him to call me right away. My flight leaves for South Africa in an hour and if he doesn't call me, the information I have will get on that plane and I'll deny ever having made this call."
"Yes sir."
Eliot hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Eliot, what did you do?" Hardison was standing just around the corner.
"Just making a phone call."
"To Interpol?"
Eliot just nodded.
"Does Nate know about this?"
Eliot just shrugged. "I'm getting coffee." And wandered off to airport café.
It wasn't twenty minutes later when the burner phone in Eliot's pocket rang. Eliot pulled it out and answered the call with a whispered, hissed, "Yes?" Hardison was still right beside him.
"James Sterling, Interpol. I understand you have information for me regarding Kentman?"
Eliot hung up without saying anything and then pulled out his own phone, entered the number and name and hit save. He then dismanteled the burner phone and tossed the pieces into multiple trash cans. He flashed a satisfied smile to Hardison.
"Eliot, what did you do?"
"I make it a priority to know where some people are at all times."
"I'm not going to help you keep tabs on Sterling."
"I didn't ask you to."
Hardison tried to read Eliot's face, but he wasn't seeing what he expected. Eliot looked kind of smug, and Hardison realized that Eliot had skills, skills he'd used to keep tabs on Moreau.
"Nate is going to kill you."
Eliot shrugged again. "Maybe."