Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(103)

“Is he in today?” my brother asks. “He’d be on this floor, right?”

“Yes, at the other end of the hall.” Alex lifts her phone’s handset. “Should I call him and check?”

“Do it,” my father says. “I’ll step out to make sure he doesn’t leave.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, Alex dials. “Everyone stay quiet a second.”

The three of us listen to the phone ring through Alex’s speaker. He answers on the second ring. “Whitbread.”

“It’s Alex. Listen, Peter. There’s been some more trouble with a supplier. And I suspect that one of our manufacturers is up to no good. Can I come down to your office and fill you in?”

“Of course,” he says. “If there’s trouble, I’ll need to know about it right away.”

“Wonderful,” she says smoothly. “I’ll be there in five.” She ends the call.

“Well,” Max chuckles. “That will terrify him whether he’s your leak or not.”

She pushes back her chair. “Let’s go. We’ll start by asking him why the hell he gave Xian Smith a visitor’s pass. I can’t think of a single legitimate reason for Whitbread to meet with him.”

My brother and Alex advance toward the door, looking tense.

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain about my lost lunch plans?” I joke as Max opens the door for her. “Can I go buy us all takeout?”

Alex cups my cheek before she steps out. “You’re always feeding me.”

“Someone has to.”

We all pass Rolf’s desk. “Off to the restaurant?” the assistant asks.

“Not yet,” Alex says, her voice tense. “Rolf, this might be another late night.”

“Color me surprised. So I’m taking a lunch break now, okay?”

Alex doesn’t answer. She’s already on the move.

My father is waiting a ways off, in view of the elevators. He gives his head a shake to let her know that our man has not come by. Then he falls in with my brother and Alex on their way to Whitbread’s office.

I bring up the rear, keeping my distance. Although I’m curious, this really has nothing to do with me. So I wait in the hallway outside the lawyer’s office, my shoes sinking into the plush carpet runner underfoot.

The C-suite of a big corporation is always plushly furnished. At the end of the hall I can see a handsome boardroom with a giant oak table surrounded by more than a dozen leather chairs. I hear only the murmurs of executives on the phone, and the quiet tapping of keystrokes.

Something moves in my peripheral vision. But it’s only Rolf heading out to lunch, his gym bag over his shoulder.

Rolf is a weird one. But aren’t we all.

Although I don’t take my gym bag out to lunch. Or bring along the photos from my desk.

Hold on.

I walk into the office where she and my family just disappeared. Whitbread is saying, “John Smith? Who?”

At my entrance, all four heads whip toward me, including Whitbread’s jowly one.

“What?” Max demands.

“Alex—does Rolf visit the gym at lunch?”

Alex frowns. “No? Never.”

“Shit!” I turn on my heel and head for the elevators.

Max is at my back about five paces later. “You think it’s Rolf?”

“He fingered Whitbread,” I say as we both race for the elevator bank. Rolf has already disappeared. I slap the button. “We just assumed he was telling the truth.”

“Goddamn it!” Max taps his phone. “Dispatch, call building security at the Engels Tower. Lobby security needs to stop Alex’s assistant Rolf…” Max falters because he doesn’t know the kid’s last name.

“Donhauser!” Alex says, pulling up the rear. “He’s 5-11, twenty-six years old. Slender. Glasses. Caucasian. God, was it really him?”

“Yes,” Max answers with more certainty than I feel. “Did he know you were meeting with Khun last night?”

“He could have,” Alex says. “I logged the reservation into my calendar when I was on the phone with Khun. God damn it. Rolf never occurred to me!”

We all pile into the elevator, my dad and Whitbread bringing up the rear. “What is happening?” Whitbread asks. “Did he steal from us?”

“It’s not clear,” Max says, studying the elevator panel. “But we have to find him. Any chance he skipped the lobby for the basement?”

“Maybe,” Alex says.

“I’ll go to the basement,” I offer. “We’ll split up.”

When the doors open at the lobby, everyone gets off except for me. And Alex. “Go with them,” I urge.

She shakes her head. “I want to help.”

I jam my finger onto the button so that the doors close again. “Dear God, let him not be in the basement,” I grumble as we descend again.

“Why? He’s not actually dangerous.”

“Everyone is dangerous when he’s cornered, Alex.” The doors part in the basement. We’re in a wide, utilitarian hallway stretching in both directions. “Do you know where the loading dock is?”

“This way.” Alex takes off toward the left.