“Of course I did. I’ve never been so grossed out by a news story about hackers.” I have to fight off a shudder just thinking about it. Three men on two continents have been killed with a toxin resembling nerve gas. They died sitting at their desks—or writhing on the floor beside their desk chairs.
“Someone has been bragging about those murders. He calls himself The Plumber, and he keeps dropping details that aren’t available in the news.” Max eyes me over the rim of his scotch glass. “And here’s the part that’s going to make you think I’m crazy.”
“Am I? Try me.”
“The Plumber is here in New York, and Xian Smith is here in New York.”
“Could be a coincidence,” I point out. New York is a big city.
“I’m not done. The third part of this coincidence is that a certain arms dealer has left Turkey. One of our old friends from Langley told me that they think he’s in New York.”
“Oh.” I set down my glass. “And I take it you don’t mean just any arms dealer from Turkey?”
Slowly, he shakes his head.
“Well, shit.” We sit in silence a moment while I take this in. I can only name one man on the planet that Max wants to kill. There’s an arms dealer known as Aga who murdered some of the members of Max’s team.
Including the woman Max thought he’d spend his life with.
“I think Aga is in New York,” Max says quietly. “And I think he’s given up shoulder-launched missiles in favor of cybercrime.”
“Max! What the—?”
“I know it’s a big leap. I know, okay? You don’t have to tell me. But whomever is talking about those killings says that they all died with a red ribbon in their hands. The newspapers don’t have that detail.”
For a moment I just stare at him. “I’ll admit that’s creepy. But there are a lot of ribbons in the world. It might be a coincidence. Or a copycat. Those hackers who died were in three different countries.”
“I know.” He sips his whiskey. “But the chatter is all coming from a New York source. The Plumber posts this stuff from three different places in lower Manhattan.”
“Wait, what?” This story is getting weirder by the minute. “Who posts sensitive crap in dark web groups and leaves a trail?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question. Maybe it’s a competitor who wants to expose him. Or maybe someone is scared. The Plumber moves around. He does his posting on public Wi-Fi in busy coffee shops. He wants people to know what the murderer is doing, without exposing himself. And I need you to find him for me.”
“Ah,” I say, because at last we’ve arrived at my part of this bargain. “You want me to find The Plumber, so you and he can have a little chat.”
“Bingo.” Max sips his scotch.
“Okay. Sure. I’ll look for your informant. But I don’t know what you’re going to do if you find him.”
“Just talk,” Max says. “So long as he’s willing.”
Yikes. “Be careful, Max. Make sure you’re in the right frame of mind here. I know Aga is important to you. But you’re pretty important to the rest of us. So I need you to take care.”
He tilts his head to the side and studies me. “Thank you, Gunn. I appreciate it. I know you think I’m tilting at windmills. But I need to explore this.”
“Sure. Where should I start?”
“You’ll begin tomorrow morning at about nine-thirty, after the morning coffee rush has passed.”
“So I can get a table at one of the establishments your sloppy hacker likes?”
“Not quite.” He slides a photo toward me on the coffee table. It’s a storefront called Posy’s Pie Shop.
My spine tingles. “Interesting name.” There must be a lot of women in New York named Posy, though. Thousands, probably.
“Isn’t it? Note the Help Wanted sign in the window. They pay fifteen bucks an hour. They’re desperate for a barista.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “You can’t be serious! I don’t even drink coffee. They’ll never hire me.”
“Think about how easy it will be to watch the customers from behind the counter, Gunn. You’ll have an excuse to stare at everyone who comes through the door. The hacker posts half his stuff from this one location.”
“They’ll never hire me! And it’s shitty to take a job for two weeks and then bail.”
He shrugs. “She’ll find someone else.”
“She?” My spine tingles again. Posy’s. It’s probably just a coincidence.