Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(102)

“Okay,” my brother says with a sigh. “We’re writing down everything we’ve learned about Xian Smith.”

“Because we’re trying to decide,” Alex echoes, “whether it’s even ethical for me to reach out to yet another supplier with an order. So far we’ve got one factory fire and one shooting death.”

“Unless it’s just a shitty coincidence,” my father ventures.

Max slowly shakes his head. “This was not a coincidence. Eric—is there anything you can add to this timeline?” He points at the word July on the whiteboard. “He stopped you two in Hawaii to ask for a meeting. Did he say why?”

Hell, did he?

Alex and I glance at each other. “That encounter lasted two minutes, tops. And I don’t think he said a word about his mission.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “He wanted a meeting, but he didn’t say why. Not until he showed up in August.”

“August?” I ask.

“The…” Alex checks her phone. “Nineteenth. He turned up here in front of Rolf’s desk, asking to meet with me. I gave him five minutes, tops. That time he said that changes were coming to Shenzhen, and that the old providers would become less reliable. Rolf was there, too.”

Max crosses the office to open the door. “Hey, Rolf? Come here a sec?”

“What’s up?” the young man says when he comes in.

“Remember in August, when Xian Smith just showed up one night?” Alex says. “Do you still have your notes? We’re trying to remember exactly what he said.”

“I dunno?” he says with a shrug. “I can check.”

“Would you?” Alex says.

“And how’d the guy get in?” I ask, holding up my own visitor’s pass. “Couldn’t have been easy.”

“Oh,” Alex says softly. “I wondered that, too. Rolf! Didn’t you call downstairs and ask about his security pass?”

“Sure I did,” Rolf calls back from his desk. “But they never got back to me.”

“Follow up, would you? The date in question was August nineteenth.”

Alex and Max and my father go back to making notes about Xian Smith. But I’m getting hungry. Which means Alex must be starved. “Should I run out for tacos?” I offer.

“No!” Alex yelps. “I invited you to have a nice lunch, and we will have a nice lunch. Three courses. Linen napkins. No gunfire.”

“We’re almost done here,” my father says. “Just as soon as your assistant gets that name from building security.”

Impatient now, I get up and walk out of Alex’s office. Rolf is tidying up his desk. He takes a framed photo of an elderly woman and slips it into his jacket pocket. “Can I help you?” he asks in a tone of voice that manages to convey that he’d really rather not.

“Any word from building security? I could go downstairs and ask them for you.”

“They’re calling me right back,” he grumbles. “Give it a minute.”

“Fine. And then where am I taking Alex for lunch?”

“Hillstone on Third Avenue,” he says. “Table for two in back, nowhere near the window.”

“Okay. Let us know when you’ve got that other information.”

“Christ, I wouldn’t want to hold up your reservation. Let me call ‘em back.” He grabs the phone and begins stabbing the buttons.

I leave his grumpy ass and go back into Alex’s office.

“Exactly how many people knew about your lunch with Xian Smith?” my father is asking Alex.

“I told my security team. And I told the same two executives I named before—my chief technology officer and my CFO.”

“That’s all,” Max says slowly.

“That’s all,” Alex agrees.

There’s a tap on the door frame, and then Rolf pops his head in. “I have a name.” He swallows visibly. “On August nineteenth, a visitor’s pass for Xian Smith was authorized by Peter Whitbread.”

“Whitbread,” Alex breathes. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“Your general counsel?” my dad asks. “That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does,” Max argues. “Whitbread wants Alex gone. And Xian Smith wants a foot in the door. If I were Smith, I’d ask Whitbread for help, too.”

Nobody says anything for a minute. We’re all busy thinking.

“Is that all?” Rolf asks finally.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks. “Thank you.”

More silence, while everyone works through the ramifications.

“He had the Thai contract,” Alex says slowly. “He knew we were using Mr. Khun as a supplier.”

“You’re saying he passed that information to Smith?” my father asks. “If Whitbread is your mole, then nothing is safe.”

“I have to confront him,” Alex says.

“Or you could keep him around, but feed him misinformation,” Max says.

“No,” Alex shakes her head. “He’s the leak that endangers anyone else I hire. Even if I try to misdirect him, someone else could get hurt.”

“She’s right,” Carl agrees. “Let’s walk into his office right now, before he gets a whiff that we’re onto him.”