Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,92
him on that while they try to prove his ties to the murders or to old weapons deals.
Geoff’s interview continues, too, as we press him to recall anything he can about the finances of the nightclubs, and the shady transactions he was asked to book. Dates. Amounts. Names. Anything he can.
“Why did you call yourself The Plumber?” I finally remember to ask. “What’s the significance of that?”
There’s an old sign painted on the bricks right across from the nightclub. It says The Plumber in red letters.
“Oh, shit.” Another damn clue I could have found if I’d looked.
I am very tired, Geoff writes. Can we take a break?
I glance at the clock and note that it’s ten o’clock. Oops. “I’m sorry to keep you so late. We can take you home and watch your building, or we can check you into a hotel room.”
He and Teagan communicate in sign language for a moment.
“Take us home,” Teagan says finally. “But we don’t want to be seen getting out of your car.”
“No problem,” Scout says. “We’ll drop you a few blocks away and follow you discreetly. And you’ll carry these, to explain where you’ve been.” She opens a folder and removes two playbills from the musical Hamilton.
“Okay,” Teagan says, fingering the program. “I wish this were real. I wish I were watching a musical instead of trying to catch criminals.”
“If we do this right, you can be,” I promise her. “Tomorrow you’ll make donuts and go to work as usual, okay? And Geoff will go to his regular appointments before coming home for the night. We’ll watch both of you from a discreet distance. We’ll pick you both up for the op the next morning.” That’s when he’s due back at the nightclub. About thirty-six hours from now.
“Thank you,” she says, standing up to go. Then she lifts her chin and looks me right in the eye. “I really need this to work. I’m counting on you.”
“Of course,” I say smoothly. “Don’t worry.”
Although there’s still plenty to worry about. I need to get this guy. And I need to do it soon.
29
Gunnar
After Teagan and Geoff are escorted home by two of my operatives, I wolf down a wrap sandwich that somebody ordered for me a few hours ago. Then I head upstairs to Max’s office, where he’s been squirreled away making calls. It’s his job to get the right G-men fired up to take Aga out, and he needs to do it fast.
He’s not on the phone now, I observe, looking in through his office window. There’s a small fleet of empty coffee cups on his desk, and a plate filled with crumbs. He’s tapping furiously on his computer keyboard. The screen looks black, though, because his office window is a very special kind of glass. It’s bullet-proof, because Max will always have enemies. Furthermore, it blocks certain rays of light, so nobody can read his screens through the window.
I knock on his door. He looks up to see me, then reaches for a button on his desk. I hear the soft click of the door unlocking for me, so I go inside. “Hey man. How’s it going?”
“Close the door,” he says quickly.
As if I’d forget. I pull it shut with a tight click and take a seat in front of him. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Why?” He swivels around in his desk chair and studies me.
“Because you’re vibrating with excitement,” I say with a chuckle. “I’ve seen calmer six-year-olds on Christmas Eve.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” He grins.
“So. What are you going to do to Aga once you see him?” Max has wanted this man’s head on a plate for ten years.
“Me? Nothing. But the State Department will swoop in immediately after I confirm his identity. I knew they’d want him.”
“Don’t they want to verify it themselves?” I ask.
“They’d rather let me take the risk,” Max says drily. “Then they’ll arrest him on some flimsy nightclub charge that never gets adjudicated. He’ll just disappear. You’ll never see his name in the paper. He’ll never surface again.”
“Yikes.”
Max shrugs. “Do you know how many people he’s killed? Hundreds, directly. And untold thousands via the weapons he sold in Syria. That man, that brilliant man—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head “—he devoted his life to making money off any dangerous device or substance that came his way. He could have built things. He could have led his countrymen forward. He could have taught more brilliant minds to do great things.”