Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,44
Aaden’s cubicle, she’d instructed her lead analyst to have the computers search for the money that had mysteriously appeared in Aaden Warsame’s bank account.
“You told us those amounts were negligible,” the analyst said.
“Both of the owners keep circling back to him. It must have significance.”
“Okay, maybe.” The analyst looked skeptical. “But we don’t have time to get distracted by a few thousand dollars.”
“Just do it.”
She knew she wasn’t being rational, but Logan wanted her to see something. Her. A week ago she hadn’t even known Nora existed and now, for some mysterious reason, she’d opened up and asked for Nora’s help. Maybe Logan was playing her, but the sincerity of her words outside Aaden’s cubicle reverberated in Nora’s core.
So far the programs hadn’t found a link from the company books to those deposits, but the computers were running even now. Inga didn’t take breaks or sleep, and Nora could almost hear the buzz of the fans, feel the heat of the processors. If there was a connection between Aaden Warsame and twenty million dollars, she would find it.
The videos dissolved into the Strike logo and an emcee walked into the center ring.
“Welcome to the ladies and gentlemen who have traveled across the globe to join us in beautiful downtown Minneapolis tonight, and to all the fighters watching in Strike gyms across the country. Are you ready for the world’s first Strike Down tournament?”
Cheers erupted throughout the stadium. Mike looked around, as if just now noticing the rest of the party wasn’t in the suite, and told her he’d go find them. She nodded, but the majority of her attention was fixed on the middle of the stadium, where Logan and Gregg were walking onstage.
Nora drained her wine as Logan took the microphone and began working the crowd. Every person in every seat applauded her, laughed with her, followed each glittering movement as her dress flashed in the spotlights. Her scratchy alto, a voice that carried the scars of a lifetime in the ring, boomed through the stadium, reverberating deep in every spectator’s chest. When she swore—“Can you fucking believe this night?”—the stadium erupted in cheers and screams.
Then the banner at the end of the arena dissolved, vanishing Logan’s image into a shadow while keeping the raised glove in place. The real Logan pointed to it, declaring the next face of Strike would take her place in the banner by the tournament’s end. The cheers, already deafening, doubled.
Five thousand for the banner. Two thousand more for contender photos, so any of the champions could be swapped seamlessly into the graphic. Design work, fifteen hundred. Nora grabbed random numbers, assigned probabilities, added all the components as the suite’s air conditioner cycled on and her skin broke out in goose bumps. She was alone in the dark. She wasn’t standing in the ring with Logan. She never had been.
* * *
The Parrish Forensics party had arrived half an hour ago, after meeting up at the office and walking over together. Corbett and his wife, Katie, showed up at the last minute, and spent most of the walk chatting with Rajesh and his wife. It wasn’t until they were making the last turn in the skyway that Nora managed to get Corbett on his own.
“I need to talk to you.”
“More dead men on the brain?”
“I’m serious. There’s something going on with this case.”
“Is it your man, Gregg?” He lowered his voice, glancing at the others to make sure no one was listening. “Is he trying to influence you?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She swiped a hand through the air. “I should be poring through financial statements, but instead I’m getting dolled up like Barbie and shown pictures of men with holes in their heads.”
“Come again?”
“They’re ready to tear each other apart and I can’t find a safe place to stand.” She swallowed. “The thing is … I don’t even know if I want to.”
“Ellie, your job is to find the money. That’s all. Get the money and get out.” As they joined the line to enter the stadium, Corbett’s expression changed. He looked worried, but before he could say anything else, Jim came over and interrupted them.
“It’s recklessness. Don’t you agree, Nora?”
“What am I agreeing to?” She shifted a look back at Corbett, but Rajesh had moved into their circle, too. Whatever Corbett had been about to say was lost.
“Why wouldn’t any prudent person maintain the twenty million in cash equivalents? That would be my first step in planning an event like this.” Jim