The Lion's Den(113)
The following Tuesday night at the dimly lit swanky joint where I tended bar was slow. I was taking my time to craft the perfect Southside for one of my favorite regulars—an older actor who reminded me of my late grandfather—when I heard my name, spoken by a woman with a soft lilt to her voice. I looked up to see George. Her hair was piled atop her head in the same stylishly messy updo as the last time I’d seen her and she was wearing the same red lipstick and black-framed glasses, leaning on the bar with her gaze fixed on me. When our eyes met, she smiled.
“Fancy seeing you here!” I said, perhaps too brightly. I slid the Southside in front of my regular and made my way over to her. “What can I get you?”
“Macallan on the rocks,” she said.
Of course that was her drink. I poured her glass fuller than management would be happy with and set it in front of her. She tipped it to me and took a sip. “Can we talk?”
I nodded. “Ed,” I called to the other bartender, “I’m taking my break.”
He gave me a thumbs-up and cast a glance around the empty bar. “Think I can handle it.”
George followed me to a corner table, where we sat facing each other. I extracted a matchbook from my pocket and relit the votive in the center of the table. “What’s up?”
She leaned in, her features distorted in the candlelight. “Raphael sent me.”
My heart fluttered. “Oh?”
“He got your texts before he changed his number, but he was afraid to reach out to you himself. He didn’t want to put you in danger.”
A ray of hope. Perhaps he didn’t hate me, after all. “What did he say?”
“He could use your help, if you’re still up for it.”
I resisted the urge to smile. “What does that mean?”
“He wants to stop his father doing any more damage to the world,” she whispered earnestly. “He’s trying to gather enough incriminating information on him to blackmail him into handing over the reins of the company.”
I raised my brows.
“He realizes if he wants change he is going to have to create it himself,” she went on. “His father knows so many powerful people, he has escaped accusations with hard evidence so many times. Even if Raphael were successful in exposing his crimes, he might still never go to prison, and Raphael and others would likely suffer, or die, in the crossfire. It would be a waste. Instead he has to beat his father at his own game.”
“How is he planning to do that?”
She leaned in, her dark eyes gleaming in the flickering light. “He’s hired someone trustworthy to build a secure server where he can store evidence against his father—evidence that if it is ever exposed, would send him to jail—which he’ll keep locked away as long as his father stays in line.”
“What evidence?”
“That’s where you come in.”
I frowned. “I don’t know how much help I’m going to be in that department. I don’t have unrestricted access to Jo––his father, and he certainly doesn’t tell me his secrets.”
“You’re going on a trip aboard his yacht in a few weeks, no?”
I shook my head. I’d been using my job and a faked illness as an excuse to avoid Summer since I returned from Mexico, but hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to cancel my trip with her. “No way.”
“Hear me out,” she said. “You may change your mind.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”
She removed a gold box from her bag and set it on the table between us. “Open it.”
I removed the lid. Inside the box was a gold watch with a large round digital face. I took it out and slipped it around my wrist. “What’s this?”
She set a user manual an inch thick on the table next to the box. “Think of it like a security camera on your wrist. It wirelessly records all audio and video to a remote server without you ever having to do a thing.”
I was dubious. “So you want me to wear this on the trip? And what, try to get John to talk about illegal stuff?”
“Shhhhh…” She stiffened at the mention of his name and looked around, but none of the few patrons in the bar appeared to be paying us any mind. “This trip is really about visiting a town on the Ligurian coast that he plans to raze and turn into a resort. You girls are just decoration. He’ll be taking meetings along the way, and though he’s always careful, he won’t suspect that one of Summer’s girlfriends might be anything more than a pretty face. So you’ll have a better chance than anyone of getting close to the source. You’re an actress, right? All you need to do is play the part of glamorous guest––relax and take advantage of his hospitality, drink his champagne, eat his caviar, and get a tan.”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be doing much relaxing.” But she did make my role sound easy, for the amount of good it would do. Almost too easy. The hardest part would be pretending to be Summer’s friend for a week.
“The other thing—in fact, the main thing—you need to do is log in to the computer on the boat and access the link Raphael sends you. It will allow his guys to hack into the server and cameras on the boat.”
“Ah,” I said, the wheels of my brain spinning. “Will they know the servers have been hacked? What if they catch me? I’m not exactly James Bond.”