“I think perhaps your boss has a bit of a debt problem,” Sloan said. She turned to Hannah. “Did you know?”
She shook her head. “He acts like everything’s fine. I thought he was rolling in it. He and Blaine both.”
“Like father, like son,” Sloan said. “Isn’t that sweet.”
She continued clicking through the list of financial bookmarks and we quickly skimmed the contents of each.
“Just more of the same,” Sloan said. “He seems to like cash-advances, despite the fact that they’re one of the worst possible ways to get money. With his success, he can’t be a stupid man.”
Hannah looked skeptical. “He’s a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. As a businessman, I’d more likely describe him as conniving.”
Sloan shrugged. “Then I don’t get it.”
She pulled her phone from her bag and snapped a picture of the screen showing one of the several high-balance credit card accounts.
“Okay, I think we’re done here.” Sloan turned to Hannah. “I really appreciate your help on this. I’d like to retain the option to return if needed. But please keep this little exploration between us. No need to poke the bear.”
Hannah grinned. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Eleven
Apparently the digital snooping was only Phase One of the day Sloan had planned. Our next stop was a dinner break. At this point I didn’t even need to ask the venue. I was getting the feeling the ancient diner was a bit of an addiction to Sloan. She seemed most comfortable there.
I leaned back in my booth as I took a sip of my coffee. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“We’re back on Walter-watch,” Sloan replied. “He’s supposed to be going to a party, sans the wife. She’s out of town for the weekend.”
“Walter? Aren’t we going to keep looking into Richard?” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “And the suspicious death?”
“Of course. I’m still figuring out our next moves on that front. But in the meantime I have to keep doing the job I was hired to do, or Richard’ll get suspicious. We have to keep the suspect happy.”
That made sense. “Any reason to suspect anything with Walter for tonight?”
Sloan shrugged. “Richard seems to think so, and told me I better be watching. He said the CEO in question won’t be there, but there may be other women of suspicion. I still have my doubts. But I guess we’ll see.”
Before long, Dottie returned with our food. My mouth watered when she laid the still-bubbling chicken pot pies in front of us.
“Thanks, Dottie,” Sloan said. “Is Sayid here? I’d like to introduce him to Quinn.”
“Washing dishes tonight. I’ll tell him to come out.”
When Dottie walked away, I broke off a piece of crust, too impatient to wait for the filling to cool. It was delicious. Sloan used a spoon to smash in the top of her crust, letting out a savory steam.
“Yours looked so good last time I had to try it,” she said. “I normally always eat breakfast here, no matter what time it is.”
“Any particular reason?”
She paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I just like it.” Her eyes were averted.
I was halfway through my meal when I noticed Sloan had put down her spoon and was smiling past me. Just then I sensed someone approaching from behind. When the male figure reached our table, I looked up—into the face of the young man from the bookstore coffee shop. The one that had stared at me ominously until I found the mysterious note that started this entire adventure. I quickly swallowed my mouthful.
“Quinn, this is Sayid,” Sloan said. “I believe you two haven’t formally met.”
His stoic face broke into a shy smile, revealing straight white teeth that contrasted against his dark hair and skin. He was handsome but young; I figured he couldn’t be older than twenty.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Quinn,” he answered with just a hint of an accent. He offered his hand.
I shook it. “You, too.”
Sloan was grinning. “So Sayid was doing me a favor the first time you saw him. He was supposed to make you a little on edge, just to mess with you. Kind of set the stage. I guess it must’ve worked.”
Sayid’s smile was sheepish. “Sorry about that.”
I laughed, remembering my discomfort that day. “No problem.”
“Sayid’s father owns Joe’s Diner,” Sloan said. “He’s studying engineering nearby, and helps out here part-time. He’s ridiculously smart.”
Sayid blushed a little.
Sloan smiled at him. “You basically helped me interview Quinn here, and now she’s on board. She’s going to be helping me.”
“No promises,” I interjected.
“Okay, whatever,” Sloan replied breezily.
I thought of the name of the diner and looked up at Sayid, a little skeptical. “So is your father Joe?”
I caught his quick glance to Sloan before he shook his head. “Joe died a long time ago. My father bought this many years ago.”
“And Sayid’s been helping here ever since,” Sloan added. “He makes a mean French toast. And you have to try his little chocolate coconut peanut-butter balls, they are to die for. Off-the-menu specialty.”
I smiled at the serious young man. “You had me at coconut. I’ll have to try it. And I like it here. Homey.”
“Happy to hear that.” Sayid reddened a little again. “I’d better get back to work. But I know how persistent she can be, so I’m sure I’ll see you again. Nice to meet you.”
I returned his farewell, and he headed back to the kitchen.
I picked up my spoon to finish dinner. “Well that clears that up. What about the scary guy on the train?”
Sloan grinned broadly. “Funny you should ask that.” She raised her voice a bit. “Leo, care to make yourself known?”
A loud sigh in response came from the booth behind Sloan. A figure in a worn baseball cap shook his head and began to slide out of the seat. A moment later a young Asian face hidden under the dark hat and thick-framed glasses peered at us from the head of the table. A beige trench coat hung in folds around him, giving the impression of a child playing dress-up.
The man glared at Sloan and removed the baseball cap. Dark hair tucked underneath fell across his forehead and around his ears. He shook off the overcoat, revealing dark jeans and a hoodie zipped over several layers. When he pulled off his glasses and tossed them on the table, the same mischievous eyes that had haunted me met mine once again. I could only stare back, completely lost.
Sloan looked to me, humor in her eyes. “I planned a little reunion. Let you get to know the crew.” She motioned toward the newcomer. “So this is Leo, my favorite hacker.”
He scowled and gave her another glare before shoving himself into the seat beside her.
“Sorry,” she said, shifting over for him. “He doesn’t like when I use that term in public. He’s a ‘computer expert.’” Her mocking tone was emphasized with air quotes.
Leo sighed in annoyance and turned his attention to me. He reached his hand across. “Hi.”
“Quinn,” I said, returning the grasp. “Nice to meet you.”
For the first time he lost some of his intensity, and up close I realized he was probably older than I had first assumed. The outfit was still youthful, but his face had the kind of still confidence that can only come with age. His strong jaw and cheekbones gave a chiseled effect to his face. I figured early thirties.
I looked between them, waiting for an explanation of the unusual entrance. “So? What was that about?”
Sloan spoke up. “I think that was a clear demonstration that Leo should stick to what he knows and leave the subterfuge to me. In real life, anyway.”
“Hey, it’s not easy hiding a face like this,” he scoffed. “It’s not my fault my exceptionally handsome face can’t be disguised.”
“It is more difficult, I’ll give you that,” Sloan agreed. “With your bone structure, I’d have to hook
you up with some wax in your cheek to change the whole shape of your face. Girls are a lot easier.”
“Well, I had a few extra minutes so I thought I’d give it a try.” Leo looked defeated but amused. “Probably should’ve at least borrowed a coat that fit. I didn’t think you paid me any attention.”
“I know.” Sloan returned a playful smugness. “Because that’s how it’s done.”
He turned to me and his dark eyes took me in with curiosity. “So what has Sloan here dragged you into? I feel the need to warn you, this girl can only mean trouble.”
Sloan scoffed. “And when have I ever gotten you in trouble?”
“That isn’t the question. The question is—when do you put me in a position to get in trouble? All the time. I just happen to be good at not getting caught.”
“Whatever. You live for the subversion.”
Leo conceded with a shrug and returned his attention to me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I said. “But I’m just helping out a little.”
Sloan picked up her spoon to resume eating. “Leo can help us, too. I gave him whatever Westbrook Trading documents we were able to get, because I don’t fully understand what we’re dealing with.” She looked to Leo. “So what can you tell us about the deal they’re working on? Anything illegal?”
His eyes narrowed, considering. “Not definitely illegal. It’s supposedly focused on Westbrook’s exclusive use of software made by Quandom. Maybe some hardware too. Hard to tell exactly. But I think there’s more than just a simple exchange of goods going on. Everything is too vague to be completely legit.”
I tried to think of what I knew about Quandom Corp. They had been surprisingly vague with me about their business so far as well. All I had gathered is that they manufactured some tech equipment including fiber optic cables—but I got the feeling their real interest was in R&D. “I didn’t know they were making anything for use in the stock market.”
“That’s the secret part. I think they’ve developed algorithms to increase the processing speed of automated decisions. And possibly the speed of transmitting those trades.” He lowered his voice a little. “And considering the connections the tech company has, I have a feeling we’re talking about some underground super-speed technology no one else is using yet. Except maybe the military.”
“What makes you say that?” Sloan asked.
“Like a lot of the companies around here, they’re primarily a military contractor. But they seem to be hiding it. Let’s just say most of their income comes from what I believe are really shell corporations for the intelligence community. If so, that would explain why this deal is supposedly so top secret.”
I was lost. “What do you mean?”
“Reading between the lines, I’d say Quandom is probably letting this fairly small and local investment firm access this technology, hoping it won’t attract attention.” His eyes began to twinkle. “And so their usual customer doesn’t realize they’re letting someone else in on some truly sweet, so-far unseen technology. I’d love to get my hands on whatever they’re dealing with.”
“Okay, so their stuff is unusually fast,” Sloan said. “What would this extra speed get Westbrook Trading?”
“A whole different level of playing field. Heck, a new game.” Leo’s whole face lit up. “They could enter the realm of high-frequency trading. And win huge, if their technology is ahead of the competition. It’s all a speed game.”
The term sounded vaguely familiar, but I was unclear what exactly it meant. “High-frequency trading? Is that just faster?”
“Compared to what they were doing before, it’s like going from regular physics to quantum physics. When you go down to such a tiny, incomprehensible scale, all the old rules go out the window. They use algorithms and high-speed connections to conduct lightning-fast trades.”
Leo became more animated as he explained, his eyes wide with excitement. “We’re talking nanoseconds—a billionth of a second. The idea is to make tiny bits of profit off each trade, multiplied by thousands of trades a second. Massive money can be made. Automatically, in the blink of an eye.”
I had trouble wrapping my head around numbers like that. “So you think this other company is going to supply the software that allows them to trade at those speeds?”
“Like I said, probably a combination of super-fast processing with high-speed transmission capabilities. If they got set up next to the physical exchange, the computers would conduct all the trading for them, without them having to do a thing.” He leaned back into his seat, striking a relaxed pose. “They could just sit back, hundreds of miles away, and watch the money pile up in their accounts.”
Sloan looked just as awed. “So this sort of thing is completely legal?”
Leo shrugged. “Investors like this make absolutely no contribution to the world, just make the whole stock market at risk for collapse if something goes haywire. But these guys make a lot of money, so you can imagine the kind of influence they have.”
The whole system was bizarre to me. What was the point, besides greed?
“There’s talk of putting speed limits on the market,” he continued. “But good luck enforcing that. My guess is these investment guys would only have use of this technology for a short window of time. Before long someone’s going to get wind of it and want their piece. But they can certainly make a pretty penny in the meantime.”
Dottie approached the table, coffee in hand. She looked to Leo. “We were wondering what you were up this time, but you know I don’t ask questions when you guys are playing dress-up.” She tried unsuccessfully to hide a laugh. “Not sure who you thought you were fooling, though. Want some coffee?”
“Thanks, but I actually need to head out.” Leo turned back to us. “Did that help?”
“Absolutely,” Sloan replied. “Go. Run off to your girlfriend. Tell her I said hi.”
He slid out of the booth, grinning, and Dottie wordlessly poured each of us a cup and disappeared.
“Learn new things everyday,” Sloan said, reaching for the sugar.
“Yeah, I’m going to need to let that simmer for a bit.”
“Agreed. So listen, there’s one other thing you need to know about tonight. That party we’re going to? We’re not exactly going as guests. Richard called in a favor to get me on as the help. And I’m going to be showing up with a friend.”
That explains our matching outfits. “The help? What, like caterers?”
“Sort of. We won’t have to actually do anything. Just walk around offering hors d'oeuvres. This way we can split up and keep an eye on Walter at all times without having to mingle. You think you can handle smiling and holding a tray?”
I smiled. “I think I can do that.”
Twelve
At least by being fake caterers, we didn’t have to show up early for all the prep work. As soon as we arrived, we were handed platters with tiny morsels and hustled out of the kitchen by a harried catering manager. Thankfully, neither she nor the party host had asked any questions about our presence.
We surveyed the great room before splitting up. No sign of our target.
Sloan leaned in to whisper. “You know what’s disturbing about getting set up for a gig like this? Richard must’ve implied a reason for wanting to help me get a catering job. And I sincerely doubt he does anything out of the goodness of his heart. I didn’t even want to look the host in the eye.”
“Oh, gross. You’re right.”
“At least Richard won’t be here. Keep an eye out for his brother.”
We split up. I stayed in the main room while Sloan wandered into the next. I slowly meandered through the party, a mild polite smile plastered on my face. It appeared to be mainly professionals quietly chatting, probably more networking than anything else. Within minutes I recognized Walter entering the low-key gathering. He said hello to a couple of acquaintances on his way to the small bar.
From across the room, I noticed one of the guests also seemed keenly interested in W
alter’s arrival. The attractive middle-aged blonde watched him from afar for a few moments before edging near. When he turned away from the bar, she quickly brushed past him, causing a collision. His drink splashed onto both of them.
Walter apologized for his clumsiness and fetched her cocktail napkins for the small spot of soda left on her dress. I felt certain the incident had been on purpose. She blotted at the stain and they moved to the side of the room as the woman kept him in conversation. I had to remind myself to keep moving and not stare.
But the vigilance was at least successful in diverting attention from my itchy head. Sloan had talked me into wearing a wig for the event. The light-brown shoulder-length bob would reduce the chances that I would be recognized on a future surveillance, she argued. I topped it off with some large hoop earrings I would never normally wear. And I had to admit, being in disguise was a little liberating.
Like most food service help, the guests paid me little attention. So I felt confident no one noticed when I snapped several photos of the pair using the pinhole camera Sloan had installed in my blouse. The button hiding the camera was slightly different from the rest, but again, there was almost zero chance anyone would notice. I simply pushed a button hidden in my side to take the shots.
The woman was pretty blatantly flirting with Walter. It was mostly a lot of upper arm touches and eyelash batting. Maybe this is the other woman we’re looking for. But I couldn’t quite get a read on Walter. He was very polite and engaged, but didn’t really give back the same vibe.
A perky voice spoke up from behind. “I think they need some salmon puffs in the next room.” When I turned, it took me a moment to re-register that the bubbly blonde speaking to me was Sloan. “I’ll take over for you in here,” she said, her eyes roving to the targets before giving me a sly smile.
I nodded and left without a word. As I circulated through the formal living areas, I wondered about the relationship of the pair. I hadn’t perceived any kind of intimacy. If something was going on between them, it seemed new.
Impulse Spy (Sonic Sleuths Series) Page 7