by P. W. Davies
It also delayed having to think about the future any further.
Fifteen
“These are all the documents that have official signatures from the firm.” Evie set the box onto the conference table. “What exactly are we looking for? You weren’t exactly clear.”
“That’s because I’m not entirely certain.” Victor fought against a frown as he removed the lid. “Bechtel has been open with us and allowed access to all of their financials, all their asset records. We’ve seen personnel records, accounting top sheets with their respective spreadsheets, and more.”
“That, all, I know.” Evie reached past him to gather the top stack of folders from inside the box and laid them on the table.
“This is about what we’ve given them.”
It was Evie’s turn to frown, more in confusion than concern.
Victor gave her a small, but unconsoling smile. “I have suspicions, which is why we’re here.”
“I’m getting that, Victor. But if you want my help, I need to know what I’m looking for.” One hand on one hip, Evie was stern but not cold. She trusted Victor just not enough to completely get her hands dirty without something more to go on. “You want us to investigate –”
“Our own people, yes,” he said, pulling out his own stack of folders.
“Meaning you. Meaning me.” She flipped open the top of her stack. “Meaning Nathan.”
The last was said in a softer tone, almost as though she was asking, If it’s him, do you really want to know?
“This is about making certain we know everything before someone else does.” Victor said the words, but he wasn’t entirely certain if they were more for Evie or himself. “We’re looking for anything related to the manufacturing division I rewrote as research and development.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult.” Evie glanced at him. “You do realize that this is the moment I become suspicious of you.”
Victor gave her another half-smile. “If you think I might not have our best interests at heart, I would understand if you excused yourself.”
“And leave you to claim all the recognition if there is something to find?” Evie scoffed. “No, I’m here. Just don’t get any ideas about implicating me.”
“Nathan has been keeping your hands away from the signatory pages,” he said.
That made her pause. Victor casually continued to look through the folder open in front of him.
“You think –” she started, but he cut her off.
“I don’t know. That’s why we’re here.”
There was silence for a long moment. “I’ll make us coffee.”
Victor raised his eyes to look at her. “You don’t need –”
“Oh, this isn’t a lady man thing, darling. I just need a moment to process what you’re telling me and getting coffee seems like a good idea.” Evie stepped away from the table and smoothed down her skirt. “Be back in a jiffy.”
He finally gave in to a real smile. “You know where I’ll be.”
The coffee really was a good idea. It was going to be a long night.
She had her dark hair tied back, with a hoodie on under a black coat, and though she wore the normal uniform of a thief, when she stood five inches shorter than Christian, he had to admit she had not been what he was expecting. While she drove them to the pier, Christian stole occasional glances at her and broke a prolonged amount of silence. “Does being shorter make it easier to get into certain places?” he asked.
“Sometimes.” Monica smirked. “Does being skinny help you?” she asked.
Christian chuckled and Monica shot him a wink, focusing on the road again afterward. While her expression remained laden with amusement, Christian sensed her settling in, the small exchange allowing her to relax more. “So, we’re trying to get into a place that’s heavily guarded,” she said, “with guys who at least have pistols?”
“That’s it. The warehouse itself didn’t have much security aside from the cameras.”
“It’s night time. They always have more security overnight, which means being prepared for a few extra hiccups.” She shot a quick glance at him, and as he looked at her, Christian raised an eyebrow.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Well, alright, not to be grateful for the work, but why did you ask for a woman? I’m gathering from the question about my height that it wasn’t part of some diversity program you’re running.”
“No. Though I don’t really care much about the race or gender of whoever I’m working with.” Christian sighed, tempted to roll down the window and take out his cigarettes. “More so, I didn’t want to work with another man. It’s a personal issue.”
“Been fucked over by any of the male thieves you’re worked with?”
“No, quite the opposite.”
“Huh.” When Monica looked at him again, she shrugged and glanced away just as quickly. “It’s none of my business, I’m just surprised. That’s all. When Roland called me, I thought maybe it was my size or something that would work as an advantage and you just stumped me.” He watched her smile and nod at the window. “Also, I saw you smoking at the bar. If you want to light up, it’s not going to bother me.”
“You’re an angel of mercy.” Christian rolled down the window and pulled a cigarette out from his pack. Lighting it, he repeated what they had begun to talk about in the bar, adding details now that they were alone. “I might need something that gets them away from the crates for a time, if only so I can take a better look at their shipping labels.”
Monica nodded. “So, a low-key distraction. Nothing that makes them lose their heads, but something that gets at least a few of them away from whatever they’re protecting.”
“Exactly like that.”
“I think I can manage it.” She freed one hand to pat her coat. “I can make their security think it saw something somewhere else on the premises. It’ll be fine, and they’re chalk it off to wildlife or the wind or something like that. But they’ll still have to check it out to be sure.”
“We’ll try that before attempting anything else.”
“More tricks where that came from. I just like keeping it simple.”
Winking at Christian, Monica allowed silence to settle between them again, motioning to turn on the radio and keeping the music at a soft volume. When they arrived close to the docks, she parked several blocks away from the Keystone Shipping warehouse, stepping out from the vehicle first and walking around to the back before Christian had even opened his door. While shutting it, he watched her pull something else out of the trunk, tucking it into a pocket before closing it again.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go break the law.”
Christian stifled a chuckle, leading the way forward while Monica adjusted her gloves and threw her hood over her head. Streetlights dotted the road up to the warehouse, but remained dim enough for Christian and Monica to weave their way through the shadows to the place where Christian had sought refuge earlier. The bays remained open, with a few trucks parked and left vacant, but where there had once been a busy swarm of workers, only a skeleton crew and a collection of armed guards milled around the premises. “You need in the warehouse itself?” Monica asked.
“Yes,” Christian said. “Though I’m open to any suggestions.”
“I can get you into the building. If you’re good at keeping stealthy, you should be able weave your way in. Once we get in, I can do my best to give you some lead time first, but I’ll need to fuck with their security system and run.”
Raising an eyebrow at her, Monica smirked “What? You’re the hitman. You’ll be fine.”
“Please tell me I’ll actually be able to leave once you do whatever you’re going to do.”
Monica looked at the building, squinting at it for a few lingering seconds. “If you leave the way we go in, then you’ll be fine.”
“Duly noted.” Christian sighed, taking a deep breath to prepare himself first and then, nodding at Monica, giving her the go-ahead.
She pushed up into a half-crouched, half-standing position and scurried around toward the front of the building, keeping away from any of the lights and seeming to know, purely by instinct, where the cameras had been set up. When they reached the door, she examined the lock and reached into her coat for a small device she had kept tucked away. A cord plugged into a keypad on the door, and as she tapped her foot, the device searched for the passcode.
“I haven’t seen one of those since England,” Christian whispered.
Glancing up at Christian, Monica winked before looking back at the device. A few seconds later, a clicking sound from the door preceded a soft beep, and after extracting the plug, she twisted the knob. The door swung open, allowing Christian and Monica inside.
Monica eased the door shut behind them. Entering what appeared to be a series of offices, she walked with slow, silent movements, prompting Christian to do the same. “We’re mostly okay here,” Monica said, whispering, “but I was only able to do a little scouting before I met up with you at the bar. I didn’t see anything that should give us any problems here, but who knows? Lots of places like this have tricks up their sleeves.”
Christian gestured in the direction of the warehouse. “Will the door be open?” he asked, matching her volume.
“Probably. I’ll walk with you to check it out before I have some fun with their computers.” They both fell silent, with Monica still holding the device which had helped them enter the building. When they reached the door that divided them from the warehouse area, Monica examined the keypad, and nodded. “Was pretty sure that was mostly cosmetic.” She looked at Christian. “It can be activated, but a lot of places don’t bother. They count on the visual being enough of a deterrent.”
“And there won’t be any alarms if I open this?”
“No, though if you give me two minutes, I’ll be in the computer system to disable anything that gives you trouble.” She leaned against the wall while waiting for Christian’s response, and once he nodded, Monica saluted him. Walking back in the direction of the offices, she disappeared inside one of the rooms and as Christian heard an office chair squeaking, he smirked and focused on the door. Inside his head, he counted to one hundred, and opened the door once he had reached the end. When leaving the offices resulted in no fanfare, Christian took a deep breath.
Now, came the difficult part.
The area in front of him presented an open cavern with few places to hide in-between. The employee area, where he had stolen the hard hat and vest earlier, lay to one side of the expanse, but the other side lacked anything now that work had been finished, and the few people who were hard at work looked idle enough to notice if an errant sound was made or figure appeared in the corner of their eye. Christian crouched low and studied the movement of the workers, glancing for any sign of security and reassuring himself when none were visible from that vantage point. Two of the workers most apt to see him turned, and when they did, Christian saw the opportunity which presented itself. As soundlessly as possible, he dashed for the stack of crates closest to the door.
Once he reached it, he used it to hide and appraised his surroundings again. A clear path to the next stack gave him a chance to maneuver closer, and soon, his movements became little more than that. Claiming each stretch of ground he could cover, when it was safe to take the chance. It took several minutes of this before he got as close to the mysterious crates, and the armed guards who protected them, as he had been earlier. Once he reached the area, however, a frantic beeping noise from their position prompted Christian to focus on them from the pillar where he had sought cover.
One of them produced their phone and stared at the screen before swinging around to look in the direction opposite from Christian. “What the hell is that?” another guard asked.
“I don’t know,” the first guard said. “I don’t see anything on the camera. But it’s freaking out like it saw something.” Christian could almost hear the frown in his voice while he looked to be considering his next action. “Alright, why don’t you, Nico, and Ricky go and just make sure it was a bird or something stupid like that.”
“Is it even worth that?”
“Would rather rule it out than get into shit with the boss.”
The guard sighed, but looked at two of the others and gestured at them to follow him. Once they had left, three other guards remained, but they had clustered themselves around the first guard and gave the only opportunity Christian would have to get anywhere near the crates. Rushing for the closest – and safest – stack, Christian hurried back into cover alongside it and paused for a second to catch his breath.
Shipping labels had been applied to the crates, along with a generous amount of warning that the contents were fragile and should not be handled with anything but care. Christian looked for the point of origin, but what caught his eye first was the name of the crate’s recipient. DeMarco Enterprises. He couldn’t be sure what the crate itself contained, and if he had some way to break it open without arousing suspicion, he would have, but he realized a name and a general sense of fragile goods would be all the night could provide to him. Before the others had a chance to return, he wandered in the direction of much less secure cargo and situated himself there.
As he expected, the others returned only moments later.
“Nothing,” one of them declared, following it up with, “just the goddamn wind.” Christian focused on how he’d make his way back to the door when something on the boxes beside him caught his eye, forcing him to take a better look. He squinted at the recipient. Bechtel Systems. “Why the fuck is that so familiar?” he whispered to himself.
Before he could wonder any further, he saw another opening, and then another, until he had returned to the offices and out the front door once more. The locks activated when he shut the door behind him, but once he’d made it back to where Monica waited, he now had two names circling through his thoughts.
Monica shrugged at the mention of Bechtel. “No clue,” she said. “Better to ask Roland about that one.”
“Alright,” Christian said. They began their walk back to where Monica had parked her car. “There was another one, closer to where the armed guards stood.” Making sure he had committed it to memory with accuracy first, he said, “DeMarco Enterprises,” once he was certain.
Abruptly, Monica stopped walking. “Excuse me, did you say DeMarco?”
Christian nodded. “Yes, why?”
“Oh shit.” Monica barked a laugh, laden with nervousness. “Well, this is where I get off the merry-go-round. I’ll drop you off at the bar, but after that, I’m taking my money and wishing you good luck.”
“Why?” Monica started to walk without answering Christian, prompting him to race after her and reach out for her. “Monica, who the hell are DeMarco Enterprises?”
She shrugged the light touch from her shoulder. “Nope. You can ask Roland that one, too. Let’s just say, your mark is in a whole world of trouble.” The remainder of her march back to the car was spent in silence, as was most of the car ride back to the Northeast section of the city. When Christian reached the bar, he settled in at the counter for a drink, waiting for Roland to finish whatever business had him currently indisposed. Okay, DeMarco is bad news, he thought while nursing a whiskey. What about Bechtel?
He turned the name around and polished off the drink. Playing with the empty glass, he repeated the name in his mind. Bechtel, Bechtel, Bechtel. No, he hadn’t heard it here at work, though the longer he considered it, the clearer it became in his head. Him sitting across from Victor, looking at his lover while Victor talked about work. He had mentioned working on a case for Bechtel Systems.
“Oh shit,” Christian said. “That’s where I’ve heard the name.”
Sixteen
Victor had gone shopping after work. If he was going to cook for Christian, he might as well use fresh ingredients to give himself an extra edge. Not that he had any doubt in his abilities as a cook, just that he wanted it to go well.
Walking home, Victor’s thoughts rolled through more practical matters than when he’d been making his purchases. Christian is investigating one of the people I work with, he reminded himself. Likely Nathan or Samuel. I’m not certain which would be better since if it is Nathan there should be nothing to find but heaven help if there is. If it’s Samuel I would be more surprised to find out the man is entirely on the straight and narrow, especially considering his negotiation tactics, but that would reflect poorly on the firm. Still, Christian’s employer obviously thought it was worth paying him, so something must be going on.
The chill in the air distracted him for a moment, and Victor made a quick mental note that he should put gloves into his coat pockets before he went out again. Clutching the bags a bit tighter, he waited for the next pedestrian light to cross the street. Just a few more blocks and he’d be indoors, waiting for the man who was the reason for the food.
Victor sighed at himself.
He’d debated about inviting Christian over to the condo. Evie had offered counsel the first time he’d been tempted, and so he’d at least held off for one more date. But he wanted to wake up beside Christian and not need to rush to work or to worry about checkout time. Victor wanted Christian to know that there was room for him, that Victor wanted him in his life. Even if that thought terrified Victor when he thought too long about it.
How long should a person wait before getting into a relationship again? And do I need to call it that?
Victor was relatively certain that he was the only person Christian was seeing for dates and sex, but he also knew that they should discuss things like exclusivity before he made any assumptions. He didn’t think Christian would object to something a little more rigid than what they currently had going – the man fought restrictions and boundaries but seemed to crave them at the same time – but he didn’t want to start issuing demands.