She’d expected a sense of joy and relief, not sadness at the prospect of ending this charade.
“Hello?” She pressed the phone to her ear and gathered up her work things.
“Do you still have a digital copy of the summary you gave us?” Agent Walker asked.
“Uh, yes. It’s at my apartment though.” When she’d packed up to run she’d had a limited amount of time and a small list of essentials.
“We’re going to need that.”
“Can’t you just—I don’t know—make copies?”
“We need the electronic file.”
“Then scan the hard copies and use a program to digitize the data.”
“This is a highly sensitive operation, Miss Adair. We can’t put classified information into just any program.”
“What about typing it in?” She closed her eyes. There were a dozen different ways to take hard copies and make them digital, and yet Agent Walker wasn’t interested in any other solution.
“No one has the hours that would take. You were very thorough in your evaluation of Mr. Grewing’s accounts.”
“The drive is at my apartment.” She pitched her voice lower. “Have you found Ben yet?”
“No, that’s what we’re hoping you’d help us with.”
“I have done everything you asked.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll go. One other thing?”
“What?”
“Can I have my phone back yet?” She was missing client contact information among other things, like her recorded conversations with Agent Walker.
“I’ll see about that.” Agent Walker hung up.
She stared at the screen and tried to think of a way out of this.
The digital summary of her client’s accounts had been her first attempt to comply with the FBI’s wishes but not give them everything. She’d taken five years of financial data and organized it into a five tab spreadsheet workbook that broke down income, expenses, expenditures and currencies.
It hadn’t been enough, but now it was the key to everything? Was she willing to gamble her safety for a file? Was she willing to risk her sister getting deported if she didn’t?
“God damn it,” she muttered and closed her work laptop.
It was almost five.
Ryan had said something about dinner. She didn’t quite remember, but there was no way she’d be back to his place before six thirty or seven depending on traffic. She fired off a text and hoped he didn’t ask too many questions. If she had to come up with an alibi, maybe she’d call on Jessica.
She packed up her work laptop and things, left a hefty tip for taking up a table all day and headed to her car. She missed her little office where she had a place for everything. The table today hadn’t been roomy enough for her laptop and planner so she’d spent the whole day balancing it on her lap so she didn’t forget anything. With any luck she’d be back there soon and her whole life would once more be in order.
But there would be no Ryan in it.
When she’d crafted this plan, she’d had an idea about what Ryan might be like. She’d bet heavily on his character and she’d got more than she bargained for. At best she’d hoped to be tolerated maybe pitied. No part of her had expected him to take on his role so seriously. She could feel a difference, a connection growing between them and it scared her.
She got behind the wheel of her car and sucked down a deep breath.
This was just her running home for a few things. Nothing else.
Except Ben Grewing was out there somewhere. If she was lucky he didn’t know she was involved in this FBI case, but she didn’t want to gamble anymore. Ben was a dangerous man. He’d always made her ill at ease, and now she knew why. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to guess at what he’d do to her if he found out she was involved.
The drive to her place felt as though it took forever jammed together with all the other people trying to get home after a long day. It ate up a lot more time than she’d allotted for getting home. She’d have to make some other excuse to Ryan.
She sat at the light adjacent to the parking garage attached to her building. It would be a quick pop in and out, except the garage only had one exit. She didn’t like being trapped like that.
Carson turned right and went down a block until she found a spot at the curb. She slid into the spot and stared at her rearview mirror, watching the front doors of her building.
Would she ever be able to go home again without some anxiety?
Probably not, which was a shame. She liked that apartment.
She paid the meter and headed toward home, glancing over her shoulder every couple of strides.
This felt like watching a spy movie. One of those where someone is always watching from some vantage point she couldn’t see. The unease in the pit of her stomach wasn’t going away.
She jogged across the street, then darted into the parking garage so she could avoid the main entrance.
Ben was one person who didn’t have money any longer. Wouldn’t it make sense that if he’d been hanging around her apartment the FBI would have already caught him?
She used her key card to enter the building and access the west wing elevator up to her floor. This one wasn’t the closest to her apartment, but it was the one a lot of people avoided because last year it kept getting stuck.
The doors slid open, and she peered out. One of her elderly neighbors strode away from her with a tiny puppy on a leash.
No one else was around.
She tiptoed down to her apartment and unlocked it, darting inside before she got caught.
Carson put her back against the door and twisted the lock. She stood there for several moments, taking deep breaths.
Before her home was a haven. Every time she stepped in here she was safe. Now she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and she had to get out quick. It could just be paranoia or instinct. She didn’t want to spend time deciding which.
She crossed the apartment to the coffee table that served as her home desk. She lifted the lid and paused, frowning at the way her laptop and cord were stowed. Had she put those away in a hurry? She couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter right now. She grabbed the zipper pouch tucked in the back and lowered the lid once more.
The idea of grabbing some clothes appealed to her, but then she’d have to explain how she got them to Ryan. No, better to leave those for later. Tomorrow was trash day. It was almost seven so she could skirt the rules and put the bag out a little early.
She took the top off the bin and frowned down at the yogurt cups sitting on top.
Those were Jessica’s. She hadn’t been by the apartment, had she?
Then again, maybe she had.
Carson put that out of mind, tied off the bag and slipped out of her apartment, making sure to secure the door behind her. She left the trash bag in the hall and retreated to the west elevator.
Almost free.
It was half-past six.
There was no way she would make it to Ryan’s by seven, but she could try.
Carson rode down to the first floor, a thrill running through her.
She was safe.
For now. But that was all that mattered. She was living day to day until this whole FBI thing was over.
Carson got behind the wheel of her car, locked the doors and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d done it, and now she could retreat to her hideout and Ryan. Being around him made the stress of this situation go away, at least until she remembered that even that was a lie.
God, could things get any more fucked up?
Not ten minutes later she got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic due to a wreck.
There was no possible way for her to make it now. Still, she waited, inching forward, until well past seven before she finally called it and shot off a text to Ryan. A few minutes later the phone rang.
“Please don’t be home,” she whispered and hit the answer button on her steering
wheel. “Hey, you.”
“I’m drunk.”
“Oh. Where are you?” Please don’t be home.
“Trinity Hall. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m still stuck in traffic. Do you want me to come and get you, or are you going to stay there?”
“I don’t want you to go out of your way—”
“It’s on my way to your place. I think—this is my exit right here. Do you want to stay or not?”
“No.”
“Okay, then I’m on my way.” Thank goodness she hadn’t picked up a lot of stuff.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t want to be like this anymore.”
“Like what?”
“Drunk. I wasn’t going to do this, but I don’t stop. And what if the baby was here? What if you needed me to do something? I’m fucking useless like this.”
Carson muted her side of the conversation and put her hand over her mouth.
God, it was both the sweetest and most hurtful sentiment.
A WEEK LATER...
Kawa laid his hand against his chest. The pressure made it hard to breathe. Impossible to sleep. His stomach was in knots.
If he didn’t find the broker soon, it would be Kawa’s neck on the line.
He’d paid money he couldn’t afford to an airport security officer who told him that Ben Grewing had entered the airport at seven last Saturday. He hadn’t been seen since. There was no record of him on a flight, but Kawa knew first hand that didn’t mean anything. He was traveling using Israeli passports after all.
Kawa paced the hotel room. He’d moved their people to some seedy joint on the outskirts of town to save money, but they were drawing attention. They needed to move somewhere else.
The Senator was on the hook. All they needed now was the money. Either Kawa would outright buy Jules Neilson or he’d pay mercenaries to go across the border and rescue her. But the money was tied up in some kind of federal investigation. Kawa had seen the men in blue coats with FBI emblazoned across their chests in yellow at the broker’s office.
Ben had screwed them and either lost or taken their money.
If Kawa didn’t find Ben to recover the cash, everything would crumble. The Senator would connect them to the investigation into Aerospace Inc and no country would support Akkadia’s bid for independence from a tyrannical dictator.
Thousands would die, and it all rest on Kawa’s shoulders.
CARSON STEPPED INTO the coffee shop and slid her sunglasses up on her head. She prayed today was the day she got the good news and her cell phone.
An older man sat in the back, a little away from the other patrons. At a glance he looked like some sort of washed up, old sportscaster. His hair had gone white and his face lined with age and too much frowning. His size made the table and chairs seem like children’s furniture.
She hated these in-person meetings. He used that height to his advantage, and she was never able to stop herself from being intimidated, even when she knew it was happening.
Not today.
Or at least that’s what she was going to tell herself.
Carson ordered a latte at the counter.
Agent Walker nodded at her, but otherwise remained engrossed by his phone.
Let today be the day.
She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending to be this fake version of herself. When she’d hatched her plan to protect herself she’d never expected Ryan to fall for it quite this hard. What was worse? She liked him. Really liked him.
Carson needed to end things before her emotions got the best of her. Just last night she’d fantasized about trying to make this farce a reality, what truths she’d have to massage so that one life went seamlessly into the next.
This couldn’t keep going.
The truth had to come out.
With any luck, that day was today. It would crush her to come clean to Ryan, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do it any other way.
She picked up her latte from the barista and carried it to the table where Agent Walker waited.
“Afternoon. Is Agent Johnson not joining us?” she asked, keeping her tone level.
“You aren’t telling us everything.” Walker set his phone down and speared her with a stare.
“What?” Carson sputtered.
“There’s still time to fix all of this. Tell me what I really want to know and your sister’s safe.”
She gaped at the man, totally thrown for a loop. Had she just traveled back in time to that first, hostile conversation they’d had.
“I-I’m sorry, Agent Walker, but I don’t understand. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to.”
“Except assist in the arrest of Ben Grewing.”
“I gave you everything.” Had someone hit him upside the head? Did he not recall the private documents she’d shared? The ones she could have gotten fired for giving to them?
“You didn’t tell us about the code.”
“Code? What code?”
“The code Grewing uses.”
“You haven’t found him then.” She didn’t need to ask. All week that’s what they’d been doing, looking for Ben. Trying to find him. And now they were blaming their failure to capture him on her.
“Don’t look so happy about it.”
“I’m not. This investigation is ruining my life. My little sister—” is sleeping in a closet because she’s afraid of ICE. “I did everything you asked of me.”
“Then why don’t we have Ben in custody? You clearly didn’t tell us everything.”
“Can you show me what the problem is? Whatever code it is you’re talking about?” Carson was clueless on that front, but maybe she could make heads or tails of it where the others had failed.
“This.” Walker pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and tossed it across the table. It skidded toward her like an errant airplane.
She slapped her hand on the paper and flattened it to the table.
What the...?
She turned the page left ninety degrees, then back the other way.
Some text was legible but a large amount of it was symbols. Like someone had tried writing in hieroglyphs.
“What is this? I’ve never seen this before?” She glanced at Walker.
His stare was not kind.
Carson had always thought Ben Grewing wasn’t on the straight and narrow but she’d never expected this. She was an accountant who led a quiet, solitary life. This whole thing was so out of this world she didn’t know how to react.
“I think we’re done here.” Walker grabbed the paper.
She kept her hand on it, pinning the sheet to the table.
“No. You promised me that if I turned everything over to you, you would drop all charges against my sister. I’ve done what you asked.”
“That deal was before someone used your login to empty Ben Grewing’s personal account.” Walker yanked the sheet from her. “I’ll call you. Don’t call me. And here.”
He pushed her cell phone at her then got up, his heavy footsteps leading away from the table.
Carson was fucked.
This mess had already taken longer than a few days. She didn’t need to be a criminal specialist to know that if they hadn’t caught Ben already—he was gone. And so were Carson’s chances at skating through this ordeal with only minimal damage.
Her alibi for the funds transfer was rock solid. Except she couldn’t allow the FBI to verify it without raising more questions. Whoever had done it had been in her home. Probably using her computer. She was willing to bet it was Ben, but no one was telling her the truth.
If she could go back would she make different choices?
She was backed into a corner when it came to working for the FBI. For Frankie’s sake, Carson had to. But there were other parts she didn’t have to do. She could have pushed through on her own, which meant she’d have been in her apartment whenever the person who broke in came for her la
ptop.
The one big thing she’d do differently? She wouldn’t have gone to Ryan. She’d sucked him in too well and this was going to get ugly.
Maybe she should tell him now and take her lumps?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, reminding her the rest of the world still went on.
Carson pulled her cell out and groaned.
Frankie.
If only there was a lie Carson could tell her that would put her at ease. The truth sucked.
Chapter 7
Ben kept his head down and strode toward the cell phone repair shop at the end of the strip mall.
He had to find Carson Adair soon. She hadn’t been to her office the whole week. He’d never caught her at her apartment though he thought he’d seen her car Tuesday. If he didn’t get his hands on her to figure out what the FBI knew he was toast. Dead. Fucked.
The Syrian rebels were looking for him hard.
Then there was the Saudi prince who’d just gotten back from vacation and wanted an update. Before much longer he’d be after Ben’s head.
The Cubans already had a hit out on him and raised the money twice.
Ben knew he was operating on limited time. Soon enough, someone would sell him out and then he’d be dead. There was no way to get the money back without Carson, and even then all he had was a prayer that it might work.
He hadn’t known that his backdoor hack only worked on personal accounts, not business ones. That was why he’d only been able to transfer his personal funds. But if he could get Carson, understand what the FBI knew more fully and get access to a bank terminal, he could feasibly fix this. At least so far as his clients money was concerned.
Then there was the problem of getting out of the country. He was on a no-fly list and his guy who did papers had just returned from a trip yesterday.
With any luck Ben would be a new man in a few days.
His business was gone, but that was why he’d saved. This line of work only lasted for so long.
He pulled the glass door to the shop open and stepped inside.
A man wearing some kind of contraption on his head with magnifying lenses glanced up at him.
Dangerous Secrets Page 8
