She shifted, avoiding his direct gaze. “Everyone calls me Pixie,” she said quietly. “Sir.”
Beside him, Silas coughed, attempting to hide a smile.
“All right, Pixie,” Gabe said, fighting the twitch of his own lips. “You are going to be the digital heart of this operation. I want you to collect every piece of intel we bring in and make sense of it. Find the patterns, the anomalies.”
“Okay.”
They asked a few questions, clarified a few things. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it was going to be. They weren’t SEALs, but they seemed reasonable enough, confident and willing to take direction. Bonus: the whole meeting took less than an hour.
“We good?” Silas turned to Gabe after the last of them left.
“We’re good,” Gabe confirmed.
“I’m headed back to DC tonight. You’re on your own, but keep me posted.”
“Plausible deniability?”
“Something like that,” Silas chuckled. “Officially, this team doesn’t exist. But unofficially, I’ll do whatever I can.”
That was good enough for Gabe.
Silas stepped into the elevator and stabbed the button to close the doors. “And, Saint?”
“Yeah?”
“Take the stairs from now on.”
Later that night, Gabe walked Fred around the compound. It was a far cry from his lakeside cabin in the mountains. There weren’t as many stars visible in the inky darkness, nor did it give him that sense of isolation he so enjoyed, but he did appreciate the cool night air and sense of open sky.
He returned to his room, questioning the sanity of his decision to get back in the game. They were off to a good start. Hopefully that would continue, and his team turned out to be every bit as good as Silas thought they were.
Admittedly, now that he’d met them face to face, he was feeling better about things than he had been earlier. Gabe found his gut instincts a far more reliable source than words on paper, and so far, they’d passed muster.
Now that he knew more about what he was dealing with, he could move forward. Silas had been right when he said these people were among some of the best and brightest in their fields. And, just like many who excelled, they weren’t wired to blindly take orders from so-called superiors who weren’t nearly as gifted.
They would soon learn that Gabe was different, nothing like the standard-issue bureaucrats they were used to. Rules existed for a reason, but he also knew that sometimes, breaking them was necessary to achieve an objective.
He would encourage them to do what they did best, but he would also make it clear that he was the one in charge. As long as they respected that, they’d get along just fine. And if they didn’t, well, they were going to find out firsthand that Gabe had zero tolerance for bullshit.
Gabe returned to his temporary apartment and reviewed the files again until he had everything committed to memory. At midnight, he exhaled and rubbed his hand over his face, the now-smooth skin feeling foreign beneath his fingers. When he slid between the crisp, cool sheets, a pair of light brown eyes stubbornly danced behind his closed lids—Virginia Miller’s eyes. So expressive and full of mystery, they stared back at him as if trying to tell him something.
Which, of course, was ridiculous. She’d been staring into a camera, for Christ’s sake, not at him. She didn’t even know he existed. But she would. Soon. Tomorrow afternoon, in fact.
That sense of purpose surged again. He was looking forward to it.
Chapter Ten
Virginia
Something was definitely going on.
Gregory had been calling members of the staff into his office all day. Virginia kept busy, wondering if she would receive an invitation as well. Had he received word on those being sent to assist? Was he briefing the household on their impending arrival, providing a list of dos and don’ts?
The benefits of discretion, she understood, but Gregory was treating this like an invasion. What was he worried the newcomers would find? It certainly didn’t seem as if he or Sander or anyone else was making an effort to find out what happened and bring Chris home. Then again, maybe they already knew, or at least thought they did, and figured they had everything under control. Those two did like their secrets.
As for Virginia, she was treating Chris’s absence as if he’d taken an impulsive vacation. Until someone told her otherwise, she was working on the assumption that he would be coming back and when he did, business would resume as usual. She simply couldn’t bear to think otherwise. She and Chris had forged an unusual bond, one beyond the typical employer-employee relationship, and she wasn’t prepared to give up on that, not yet.
So, every morning, she went to her office and did her thing. She rescheduled meetings as needed, updating the color-coded daily calendar she kept as she went. Researched requests and venues, then typed up her recommendations and made lists of potential travel arrangements. Answered Chris’s mail and returned phone calls, making notes of the things that would require his personal attention.
Gregory’s summons finally came in the afternoon, right when she was ready to call it a day and head to the solarium for some much-needed yoga and meditation. She backed up copies of the files she’d been working on and slipped the thumb drive into her pocket, then powered down her desktop. After ensuring everything was securely locked away, she smoothed her skirt, put on her game face, and headed toward Gregory’s office.
“You wanted to see me, Gregory?”
He didn’t bother looking up from his seat behind the big, imposing desk.
“Ms. Miller. Come in and close the door behind you.”
She did, choosing to view it as a request instead of a command. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs facing his desk, knowing one probably wouldn’t be forthcoming.
She crossed one leg over the other, then waited for him to get to it. He ignored her and continued looking at whatever it was he had on the desk in front of him as if it was far more important than talking to her. It was a power play, she knew, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of fidgeting or appearing impatient. With nowhere else to be and nothing else demanding her immediate attention, she would play his game.
She used the opportunity to check out her surroundings; she didn’t have many occasions to visit his office. It was much bigger than hers, done up with dark woods, rich colors, and heavy draperies. The word formidable popped into her mind, followed shortly after by oppressive.
When sufficient time had passed, he lifted his head and removed his reading glasses. She met his penetrating glare with one of indifference and mild curiosity.
“Over the course of the next few days, there will be men visiting the estate in an official capacity.”
Virginia withheld the “no kidding” comment perched on the tip of her tongue, reminding herself that Gregory didn’t know she’d overheard him and Sander in the gardens. Instead she asked, “Does this have something to do with Chris’s disappearance?”
Gregory’s lips turned downward in distaste. He hated that she referred to their employer with such familiarity, which, of course, was exactly why she’d said it. “Yes.”
“Good. Maybe someone will finally be able to do something.”
His frown deepened. “They will deal primarily with me, of course, but may request to speak with other members of the household in the interest of thoroughness.”
“Of course. I’m happy to help any way I can.”
His brief smile was cold. “Hopefully, that will not be necessary, but if it is, I suggest your ‘helpfulness’ be limited to factual, pertinent information.”
She felt her lips twitch. “So . . . no regaling them with in-house gossip drama? No mention of personal vendettas or possible ulterior motives? No who’s sleeping with whom? Is that the sort of thing you don’t want me to talk about, Gregory?”
His expression couldn’t have been sourer if he’d sucked on a lemon.
“Relax,” she told him, rising.
“I’ve been around long enough to appreciate the importance of discretion. The only thing I care about is finding Chris and bringing him home safe and sound.”
Virginia left Gregory’s office and took a deep, cleansing breath. She might need to do more than her usual afternoon yoga to loosen the knot that had formed between her shoulder blades.
Chapter Eleven
Virginia
Virginia spent a little more time than usual on her appearance that morning. She tapped in an extra dab of plumping moisturizer around the corners of her eyes to minimize the fine lines there, and an added swipe or two of mascara to draw attention away from the dark circles the concealer couldn’t completely hide.
After some deliberation, she chose a lightweight, navy skirt and a silky, white blouse, completing the outfit with a fitted, navy blazer and low-heeled pumps. Taking one final look in the full-length mirror, she nodded appreciatively. Conservative, yet feminine. Professional, but approachable.
She didn’t know much about the man leading the investigation into Chris’s disappearance. She knew only that his name was Gabriel Michaels and that she could expect a visit from him at some point. Apparently, he wanted to talk to everyone who worked for Chris.
Gregory clearly wasn’t happy about having someone from outside the secret circle coming in and asking questions, but Virginia was glad for it. Hopefully, Mr. Michaels, whoever he was, was smart enough to see through Gregory’s bullshit and get some actual answers.
Maya was snapping orders in the kitchen when Virginia went in to get some coffee and her usual morning bagel and fruit. Other than a glare, Maya ignored her. That was just fine with her.
The housekeeping staff was also abuzz with activity, ensuring everything was up to snuff. The head of housekeeping, Phyllis Calligaris, hovered around with an eagle eye and a white glove, issuing commands in an odd mix of Greek and English. Once the visitors arrived, Virginia knew, they would disappear back into the woodwork like mythical brownies.
Once in her office, Virginia opened the French doors and welcomed the cool morning air. Despite the early hour, she could hear the sound of mowers traversing the manicured lawns and clippers ensuring the perfect symmetry of immaculately kept trees and shrubs.
To the wealthy and powerful, appearance was everything, and clearly, Gregory wanted it to appear as if he had everything under control. Appearances could be very deceiving, though.
She smiled to herself, thinking of her own careful preparations this morning. And who, Virginia, are you trying to deceive?
She started up her computer, then opened up an incognito search window. She liked knowing a little bit about who and what she was dealing with; research and vetting were part of her job as a personal assistant. She typed in “Gabriel Michaels” and got started.
A slew of results came up. She ignored the social media profiles. Something told her anyone coming to quietly investigate Chris’s disappearance wouldn’t advertise on Facebook. She worked her way through the white pages, narrowing her search and using a few information-gathering hacks she’d picked up over the years, concentrating on public, military, and government-issued sources.
“There you are,” she said softly hours later, her instincts telling her she’d found the right one after eliminating hundreds of possibilities. A handsome face stared back at her from a decades-old, grainy black and white photo. There wasn’t a lot of information available, but she did manage to sketch together a timeline. From what she could gather, he’d gone into the Navy right out of high-school, served six years, then took advantage of the GI Bill and went back as an officer at the age of twenty-eight, where he served for an additional twenty years and retired as a US Navy SEAL Commander.
Virginia sat back, thoughtful. Gabriel Michaels wasn’t a typical, black-suited Federal agent. He was a SEAL, and, if the list of commendations and medals he’d accumulated over the years was any indication, a damn good one at that.
Gregory was right to be concerned.
If nothing else, the next few days were going to prove very interesting, indeed.
Chapter Twelve
Gabriel
After only a couple hours of sleep, Gabe awoke feeling refreshed. Living alone in the mountains was great, but he did miss this—this sense of purpose and adventure—and he was anxious to get started.
Fred sensed it, too. His tail hadn’t stopped wagging since he’d bounded out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn.
Over coffee and breakfast, Gabe used his notes from the night before to refine task lists for himself and the others. Levine would be scouring the finances, assets, and off-shore bank accounts. Dominguez had already begun compiling in-depth profiles on those on Kristikos’s payroll. Livingston—Pixie—was making a list of every communication coming in or out of the estate in the weeks prior to the disappearance.
As for him, he’d contacted the estate manager, Gregory Daskalakis, informing him that he and his associates would be paying them a visit.
By the time the clock hit seven, Gabe was ready to go. He grabbed Fred’s vest and went to see about getting a vehicle, only to be informed that Silas had already made arrangements.
Of course, he had.
Keys in hand, Gabe found the black SUV parked just outside. It was a newer model, fully loaded. He took a moment to familiarize himself with it, murmuring appreciation for the high-tech dash. Fred seemed to like it, too, except for the tinted windows. Gabe lowered the one on the passenger side so Fred could stick his nose out and enjoy the view.
The drive out to the secluded estate took less than an hour. Along the way, he reviewed the information he’d committed to memory and made a mental list of the things he wanted to accomplish.
First, he wanted a walkthrough of the events the night Christos Kristikos disappeared, beginning with the arrival of the mystery guest and ending with the last time someone saw or spoke with Kristikos.
Next, he wanted to meet with each member of Kristikos’s personal staff. He’d reviewed their files, but as with the team Silas had compiled, Gabe wanted to create a more rounded image using his instincts and powers of observation. A person’s body language said far more about them than their bios. Lack of eye contact and subtle tells often outed those who had something to hide.
And, since these were Kristikos’s people he’d be dealing with, they probably had plenty of practice hiding things. The challenge would be separating the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, and determining what was relevant to achieving his objectives—namely, finding out what happened to Christos and then finding a way to use that information to take Darius down.
Additionally, he hoped to get a good read on how those closest to Kristikos were handling his disappearance. Masking genuine emotion wasn’t something many people could pull off effectively. Were they distressed? Relieved? Anxious? Gabe planned to use whatever vibes he picked up like a barometer reading to assess the overall situation.
Later that night, he’d do a SITREP with the others and compare notes.
Massive black metal gates mounted on stone pillars kept him from getting far once he turned off the road. Gabe lowered the driver’s side window and spoke into the mounted speaker, flashing his credentials toward the nearest camera as well.
“Gabriel Michaels.”
“Welcome, Commander Michaels. Your presence is expected. Please proceed,” said a smooth, accented voice. The familiar address felt comfortable, like a broken-in pair of boots. It was an interesting choice, however, given he was officially retired from active service. Was it a subtle way of letting him know they’d done their research? Or simply a sign of respect? Either way, he wasn’t about to correct them.
The gates swung slowly inward, and he moved the vehicle forward. A quick check in the rearview mirror showed the black bars closing behind him. The private drive was long, flanked on either side by tall trees. A telltale glint in the foliage every now and then confirmed Gabe’s suspicions that additional cameras were tracking his progress. He wouldn’t have been s
urprised if more than just cameras were mounted in those trees. From a security perspective, it made a lot of sense. Legit or not, Christos Kristikos was worth millions, if not more.
Eventually, manicured lawns came into view, an expanse of jewel-like green. “So, this is what it’s like to be filthy rich,” Gabe murmured. Statuaries, fountains, and perfectly trimmed hedges abounded, meant to awe and impress. It was nice, in a showy, controlling kind of way, but as far as he was concerned, raw, wild nature was more appealing.
He pulled into the circular drive where a man dressed in a black suit awaited him. Fifty to sixty years old and distinguished-looking with peppered silvery hair, the man stood stiff and straight. His face was a mask, but his nearly-black eyes were sharp and assessing. He flicked those eyes downward toward Fred, who was now sporting his official vest, and the man’s lips turned downward in a hint of disapproval. Wisely, he refrained from commenting.
“Commander Michaels.” The man’s voice was smooth and cultured like the one at the gate. “I am Gregory Daskalakis. I oversee the management of Mr. Kristikos’s estate.”
Gabe nodded in acknowledgement. Daskalakis didn’t extend his hand. Neither did he.
“Let us proceed to my office and we can discuss how I may be of assistance.”
Daskalakis turned and led the way up a small set of marble steps and through a series of Corinthian-style columns to a set of arched doors. They passed through a grand foyer, which Gabe estimated to be larger than his two-room cabin, and turned right.
The room they entered was spacious, the massive fireplace and floor-to-ceiling shelving more indicative of an ivy-league law library than an estate manager’s office. Dark, polished wood and deep, rich draperies and upholstery gave the place a heavy, imposing feel. It spoke of power and wealth and privilege.
“Please, have a seat,” Daskalakis said, indicating one of the chairs facing a large, intricately carved desk. Daskalakis moved behind the monstrosity. Gabe sat down and removed a small pen and notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. Fred sat beside him, his eyes and ears alert.
SEAL Out of Water (Silver SEALs, #7) Page 5
