“I know.” I looked at Sloane, who was already seated behind Freya’s laptops with a focused expression. “Sloane.”
We made eye contact over the top of the screen. “What is it?”
“If we call the Deputy Director, and they have to take action here, and it leads to catching Bernard, I mean we’d all hope it would, but your contract, I’m not sure what Louisa…”
Sloane shook her head immediately. “My deliverable is finding Bernard and giving him to the proper authorities. So whatever road leads to Bernard’s capture is the one I want to be on. And con artists like Julian and Birdie deserve to be behind bars. Call him.”
I swallowed hard. “It could still work out well for you, career-wise.”
She waved her hand. “Let me worry about my contract. You do what we’re supposed to do.”
I held her midnight gaze for a second longer than was professional—because I understood what she was potentially letting go. I had watched this case become more and more personal to Sloane and less and less about the money or prestige. Still, it was her career potentially on the line, not mine.
“Thank you,” I said. She winked at me—flirtatious—and I busied myself with shedding my jacket before I did something stupid like kiss her in front of my agents.
“Sam, how quickly can you get your dad on the phone?”
“If its urgent, he’ll step out of a meeting to speak with me,” Sam said. “Give me a second.”
Deputy Director Andrew Byrne and I had always had a contentious relationship. At the Bureau, we’d butted heads often, and when I’d left to start Codex, he’d made his disdain apparent and very public. The man’s lack of respect for private investigators was well-documented, and having to involve him in The Empty House case had been a pissing contest I hadn’t enjoyed. The man despised when I was right, and I’d never admit the few times he’d been. Stealing his son from the Bureau to work for Codex had been the final nail in the coffin for our working relationship.
Sam stood, on the phone, shaking his head and speaking quietly. Freya was perched on the table where Sloane sat—they were both watching Sam carefully. Delilah paced along with me, while Henry sat in the chair with his arms crossed, thoughtful.
“Hey,” I said to Henry. “Anything at the bookstore?”
“Nope,” he said. “It was dark, the sign indicated they were closed for the night. Nothing sparked a memory, unfortunately.”
“Okay,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good work though. We’ll keep Peter on the back burner.”
Sam’s voice on the phone grew louder, drawing my attention. “Yes, sir,” Sam was saying—and handing the phone to me.
I put the phone on speaker again so the whole team could listen in. “Hello, Andrew,” I said.
“Abraham,” came the curt response.
Nostrils flaring, I caught Freya’s dramatic eye roll. “My team and I are working a case in London right now, and we believe may have stumbled upon two persons of interest in The Empty House case.”
“Who?” Icy but professional.
“Julian King and Birdie Barnes,” I said.
There was another long pause—sounds of a door closing. “And what are American private investigators doing in London?”
I looked at Sam, who nodded at me. “Looking for Bernard Allerton.”
The name hung heavily in the tense air—I had five people watching me while attempting to discern what the hell we did next.
“To be clear, you and your entire team are in London searching for one of the FBI’s most wanted men?” Andrew repeated.
“Yes,” I said.
The seconds ticked by—slow, dramatic. And then the Deputy Director of the FBI cleared his throat. “So you must have received my email?”
40
Sloane
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Abe asked, looking truly astonished. Sam was on his feet, striding toward the sound of his father’s voice on the phone.
“The confidential email,” Andrew Byrne said. “The one with the reports. You must have gotten it?”
Sam snatched the phone up. “Dad.”
I saw Freya’s face soften. So did Abe’s.
“Yes, Sam?”
“What did you do?”
“I merely sent an anonymous email to your supervisor letting him know my thoughts on where Bernard Allerton might be,” he said. “We are all familiar with the various shortcomings, shall we say, of the Bureau. At times.”
Abe and Sam stared at each other. “And what would you like us to do with this information?”
“I believe you know,” the Deputy Director said. “Or I wouldn’t have sent it.”
Tension radiated from Sam’s posture. Every person in the room looked suspended mid-action—breathing fast, bodies bent forward.