doorway for a minute, more fraught with nerves than she’d even anticipated. The heavy rain had stopped but there was a light drizzle now, and the air was misty. She glanced up and down the wet streets, making certain no one suspicious was lingering nearby. And then she took off, checking several times over her shoulder on the short walk to Jacques.
The restaurant was a French bistro with cracked plaster walls, a tiled linoleum floor, and faded red toile curtains. It was half empty tonight and Kit immediately spotted Kelman, sitting alone against the back wall. She drew a breath at the sight of him. As if sensing her presence, he looked up, met her eyes, and rose. Just as he had when she’d crossed the restaurant in Islamorada.
Reaching the old wooden table, she slid into a chair across from him. He was dressed in black jeans, a stone-colored T-shirt, and his black leather jacket.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, sitting back down again. He had a mug of beer in front of him, the outside of the glass wet with condensation.
“A white wine,” she said.
It was hard to believe that two weeks ago she had sat with him on that lovely candlelit terrace with the dark bay as a backdrop. And that she’d toyed in her mind with all sorts of possibilities: that he might kiss her later, that she would see him back in New York, that something would develop between them. But nothing, nothing like this.
A waitress took the order and Kelman didn’t speak again until she returned with the wine.
“I’m glad you reached out, Kit,” he said finally.
His tone had shifted since Sunday; gone was the hostile edge. Clearly he’d given up on the notion that she had a devious agenda. Still, she would need to be careful.
“You said that you had information that could benefit me,” she said. “I’m ready to hear it.”
“Frankly, I’m still surprised you decided to meet. On Sunday, the only thing you seemed interested in was getting me out of both your apartment and your life.”
“What choice do I have?” she said, feeling a swell of indignation. “I’m scared and I need your help.”
“I want to help. I realize you’re in this mess because of me.”
“And what is the mess exactly? I deserve to know.”
“Okay. But I need you to realize that I’m in a highly volatile situation and there’s a chance you’ll be in even more danger because of what I have to tell you.”
Her body tensed from dread. Was he involved in something highly illegal? She had to know, one way or the other.
“Consider me warned,” she said.
“Like I told you Sunday, I worked at Ithaka as a portfolio manager. After about four years, I decided to leave—the place was no longer a good fit for me for a variety of reasons. So that I wouldn’t lose my bonus that year, I decided to hand in my resignation after the first of the year, though just knowing I’d be resigning was a relief. And then, right before I left, something happened.”
He took a swig of beer and when he pulled the mug away, she saw that his expression was grim.
“One day, purely by accident, I stumbled on the fact that some serious illegal trading had gone on in the firm about six months previously. It involved our holdings in a pharmaceutical company that was testing an experimental drug for leukemia.”
He was speaking in a hushed voice, and Kit leaned in closer to hear, to try to fully fathom what he was telling her. She’d assumed for days that X was an identity thief and a con artist, and now the truth, if it was the truth, was totally different. It felt like being a passenger in a car that had flipped over on its hood, and trying desperately to figure a way out when everything was upside down.
“These illegal trades—they hadn’t aroused any suspicions up until then?” Kit asked.
“Apparently not, and I knew I had to report what I’d discovered to the SEC. I’m not trying to paint myself as some hero, but the whole thing disgusted me. I had my suspicions that even the head of the company might be involved.”
Wainwright. She thought of the power that emanated from his pores, the way he’d pressured her into coming to the office.
“Wait,” Kit said. “Was Matt the one doing the illegal deals?”
Kelman shook his head adamantly.
“No, no. It was two other portfolio managers—Gavin Kennelly and Tom Lister.