He was talking to two of his people. He gave orders and frowned as he listened to a volunteer deliver a report on a problem with some of the tents. She sat and Justin stood over her. Oliver hovered nearby with his hands behind his back and nodded. The young woman, whom Finn had met earlier, looked terrified. Finn wasn’t sure why, since Justin remained remarkably calm, but the guy did have a presence that seemed calculated to intimidate people.
When Justin finished the conversation, he glanced over at Finn. “You ready?”
Interesting, since Finn didn’t think Justin even knew he’d entered the room. He hadn’t looked up or acknowledged him.
“I can wait until you’re done.” Finn didn’t mind the view—that mix of bottled-up energy and pure confidence that poured off Justin, giving him a larger-than-life quality.
“No need. We may as well get this over with.” He nodded to his people and signed one final document sitting on the table in front of him.
Oliver sighed. “You’re so charming.”
“It’s actually the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.” That was no longer true, but if Justin wanted to be an ass, Finn would play along.
Justin walked over and stopped in front of Finn. Treated him to one of those quick up-and-down glances. Nothing subtle about that.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Justin put his hand on the doorframe but didn’t move to leave.
“Talking to people? Yeah, I do that on a near-daily basis.”
Justin crossed his arms in front of him. “Okay, pretty boy. I meant, are you ready to be tactful?”
He had to be fucking kidding. “You’re talking to me about tact? You, the guy who engages in name calling on a regular basis.”
“Just to you. I’m generally professional with other people.”
A comment Oliver had made about Justin this morning came back to Finn. Oliver described his boss as thoroughly authentic, not interested in impressing anyone. Finn thought that fit and decided to let Oliver know. “You’re right about him.”
“Excuse me?” Justin frowned, though it was hard to tell, since his regular expression wasn’t exactly open and warm.
“He’s fascinating, isn’t he?” Oliver’s gaze switched from Finn to Justin. “And Finn is much more fun than you thought he would be.”
Finn liked Oliver more with every passing minute. “I am. You can admit it, Justin.”
“Don’t make me get my gun.” Thanks to the touch of amusement in Justin’s voice, the comment didn’t rise to the level of a threat, or much of anything.
Besides, Finn had his own weapon waiting just outside the tent. “Rania will shoot you. She is no joke.”
“You should have seen the way some of the security patrol shook when she stared at them earlier today after they tried to explain something obvious to her,” Oliver said.
Justin shook his head. “This country has some trouble with the treatment of women.”
True, but Finn didn’t see any sign that Rania backed down from a fight. “That might be news to her.”
Her file suggested she could handle almost anything, and she seemed determined to be the one in charge. He gave in because when it came to protection she was the expert. He had no problem being guarded by a woman. He just hoped they never walked into a situation that required her to show off her full range of skills.
“I saw her in action the other night.” Justin whistled. “It is hard to imagine anyone bothering her, which is exactly the point and why she’s so effective.”
“I’m convinced.” Oliver took a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and wrote something down. “We should hire her once Finn, here, leaves. I’ll make a note.”
Justin’s eyebrow rose. “He’s leaving? It was starting to feel like he’s a permanent fixture.”
Oliver shook his head as he glanced at Finn. “I think he means that in a nice way.”
Rather than debate or point out that he’d been there all of two days, Finn put his hand on the door. He was about to push it open and walk outside, get going to their meeting, when Justin started talking again.
“I saw you talking to people all day, walking the fence line.”
Finn had no idea where this was headed, but he turned around to face Justin anyway. “I wanted to get a look at where the shooting took place.”
“Why?”
The question didn’t make a lot of sense. They’d heard gunfire and rounded up everyone in the camp. Was it that strange to want to see the spot where the fighting broke out…just to see? “Why not?”
Oliver laughed. “He’s starting to sound like you, Justin.”
“Let’s hope not.” Justin brushed past Finn and held the door open for him to go first. Before they left, he shot Oliver one last look. “Try not to lose control of the camp while I’m gone.”
“Then he should cancel that music concert I scheduled?” Finn asked.
“Funny.” Justin’s gaze traveled from Finn to Oliver. “Fuck both of you.”
Oliver shoved them both out the door. “I’ll miss you, too.”
* * *
—
Karim chauffeured them on the hour-and-a-half drive to Tangier, a northern port city on the Strait of Gibraltar. Rania sat in the front seat with her brother and never said a word. The car buzzed along the coastline, showing off expansive views of bright blue water on one side and long stretches of sweeping mountains on the other. The open land, mostly free of obvious signs of activity, gave way to enclaves of buildings dotting the lush green hills.
Finn was struck by the beauty of the surroundings, the contrast of picturesque rolling hills and the hint of a cosmopolitan city in the distance as they entered the outskirts of Tangier. He had been here once, years ago, but then it had been a city on the edge of transition. Now the beauty of what once had been was restored, right alongside a burst of new construction.
Tangier was home to two ports—one inside the city at its westernmost edge and the other a new deepwater port outside the city called Tanger Med. The huge new port was nearing completion of a more than ten-year construction plan, making it the largest in Africa. A high-speed rail line, a first for Africa, was about to debut and would connect Tangier to Morocco’s economic capital, Casablanca. Those modern conveniences contrasted with a city that woke to the sounds of crowing roosters and the call to prayer.
The division between the new city and the old city—the medina—was not easy to miss. A medieval wall outlined the medina. Inside, winding streets gave way to open markets filled with colorful clothing as well as fresh vegetables and fruits. People passed with carts selling meat. Community phones and ovens were available here because many citizens couldn’t afford them at home. The highlight for many tourists traveling through this area was the Kasbah, a former sultan’s home turned museum.
After a quick drive around the area, they headed toward the Port of Tangier and the shipping companies stationed there. This trip was no less scenic. Tiers and terraces of houses and restaurants cascaded down the hills toward the water. Narrow passageways and slim streets provided glimpses of Moorish influence, colonial-era architecture and newer boutique hotels.
They headed toward a more commercial neighborhood, turned down a road, and passed a string of warehouses. Finn wanted to roll the car window down but he knew Rania would never approve. Instead, he continued to take in the sights as the smell of water wafted around them, permeating the car.
After another turn, they pulled up to a bright-blue one-story building lined on one side with rows of numbered delivery bays. There were trucks parked in two of them and cars scattered around the lot. A few men walked around from the side of one of the trucks to the front.
Filled milk crates were stacked off to one side by an open garage door. Finn couldn’t tell what was in them, but it looked like brightly colored material, possibly clothing. He t
ried to get a better look but his concentration fizzled when a loud beeping noise filled the air as a truck backed up nearby.
He and Justin waited for the guard to open the metal gate leading to the side of building. Then they maneuvered around the activity and entered the only door.
A man stood in the middle of the cluttered room. Stacks of papers lined the desk and sat in piles on the floor. A large window at the far end opened to the warehouse floor, a whirlwind of activity, with men bustling around and forklifts moving crates and boxes.
All the while, the man shouted into his phone in French. He managed to use every swear word Finn knew in the language and may have slipped in one or two in Spanish as well. A pretty impressive display.
Finn tagged the guy as the owner. He had that yells-a-lot air about him. The lines etched into his forehead and tugging at the corners of his mouth made his age tough to determine; he could have been in his fifties or late thirties. The touch of gray hair around his temples didn’t provide a clear answer either.
The face and worn look suggested older. The athletic build and way he moved around as if he could break into a sprint at any moment said younger. Finn really didn’t care which.
As soon as he hung up the phone, Justin started talking. “Finn, this is Billy White.”
Before Finn could say anything, Billy backed up. “I don’t shake hands.”
An American accent. Finn hadn’t been back to the States in more than a year, but he recognized the soft southern drawl. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact state. He knew, despite what people thought, that there wasn’t just one all-purpose southern accent. “Because?”
“I don’t want to.” Billy ended his walk around his massive metal desk by slipping into his oversize desk chair. “Why are you here?”
A fan blew a steady stream of coolish air right into Billy’s face. The place qualified as musty and a bit dank, with its peeling light-blue walls and smell of old cigarette smoke and stale onions. Nothing about the office aimed to win a person over. It was straightforward and run by a guy who likely didn’t waste one penny of profits on stuff he deemed unimportant.
So, Finn didn’t waste time with bullshit. “I’m in Morocco to tour the facilities and ensure that every part of the operation is running up to speed.”
“I don’t work for you.”
Billy made Justin look charming. Finn was starting to wonder if there was an American in Morocco who didn’t have a chip on their shoulder. “Not directly.”
“Are we saying the same thing?” Billy eyed Finn, clearly sizing him up, as he opened his top desk drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes.
“We contract out to your company for services.” As far as Finn was concerned, that meant Billy could lose the work at any time. But Finn didn’t bring that up. Not yet.
“I know. I’m the one who sends the invoices.” Billy leaned back on his chair, ignoring the creaking sound as he tapped one end of his unlit cigarette against the armrest. “I was just checking to make sure you knew I wasn’t your lackey.”
“But you do take my company’s money without arguing.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. “You threatening me about something?”
Up until then Justin stood beside Finn without saying a thing. He finally moved, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “This is going well.”
Finn agreed with the assessment. He was already sick of this conversation. “You strike me as a guy who likes to get right to the point.”
Billy kept tapping that cigarette. “True, but I doubt you know how to do that. Your type rarely does.”
Carrying around that much anger had to be exhausting. Finn was the only one in the room not doing it.
He glanced over at Justin. “Are you two related?” Before he could answer, Finn turned back to Billy. “We’ve had some problems with shipments.”
“Justin and I have talked about that.”
Another attempt to cut the conversation short. Finn was fucking done with that. “Now you get to talk with me.”
“Technically, Billy, he is in charge,” Justin said.
“More than technically.” Finn kept his attention on Billy as he answered Justin. “For instance, if you want those invoices you send to get paid, you should talk with me.”
Billy leaned forward, causing his chair to squeak again. “You, Mr. Boss Man, have a distribution problem.”
Looked like they were finally getting somewhere. Finn refused to derail that by telling Billy to shut the fuck up, though it was tempting. “Explain.”
“The shipments we actually received came in without any loss.” He used the cigarette to point at the window to the warehouse floor. “I have my people unpacking every single one of your company’s crates, double-checking the contents, while I watch. It’s a waste of my damn time, but there’s no way I’m getting blamed for this. If there is a problem between Tangier and Justin’s camp, that’s not on me.”
Finn zeroed in on the comment that concerned him. “The ones you actually received. Are you saying there are shipments you should be getting and haven’t?”
“Huh.” Billy shot a smile in Justin’s direction. “He’s quicker than most useless rich boys.”
Justin nodded. “It seems that way, yes.”
There was no way Finn was playing this game. He waited for the annoying bonding to end. Good thing was, it didn’t take long for Billy to start talking.
“Two shipments recently didn’t arrive at all. It’s on here.” Billy rummaged through a pile on the corner of his desk and grabbed a clipboard. He flipped the pages and pointed to a form. “I’m sure someone in your office filed an insurance claim.”
Money was the last thing on Finn’s mind. “Is that an abnormally high rate of loss for you?”
“It’s within normal range. Shipments get stolen and go missing for many reasons.”
That wasn’t exactly the answer Finn expected. “You don’t think that’s related to the shipments that have shown up short at the camp?”
“I actually do.” Billy frowned at Justin. “Someone is messing with your organization.” He turned back to Finn. “I handle shipments for other charities and companies, all without more than the usual amount of problems. Yours is experiencing an increase in trouble. You know what that means, right?”
Finn didn’t need a roadmap to find this answer. “This could be an internal Drummond matter.”
“Seems you are smarter than you look.”
Justin shook his head. “It was a surprise to me, too.”
Finn ignored the back-and-forth. “Any suggestion where we look for trouble?”
“One choice.” Billy dropped the clipboard on the desktop with a thud. “Distribution chain.”
“That’s you.” It felt like they were spinning in circles. Finn wished Billy would cough up one answer that made sense without further explanation, but no.
“I’m a stopping point. Items come in here, I log them and get them to local points of contact.” Billy dropped the now-crushed cigarette on top of the clipboard. “You should be looking at the people moving your shipments around. Transportation.”
“I don’t suppose you have a name you can give us.”
“That’s up to you to figure out, Boss Man.” Billy held up both hands. “I do my job. You do yours.”
* * *
—
Finn waited until they stepped back outside into the sunshine and through the gate to the parking lot to talk to Justin. “You believe him?”
They were more or less alone. While Karim paced the fence line, Rania met up with them again as soon as they came out of the office. Neither of the siblings said anything. Even now they stayed a respectable distance away, not interfering. Just waiting until they heard about the next move.
“Despite the attitude, he’s good at what he does. Dedicat
ed and smart. He built the company from nothing,” Justin said.
Finn wasn’t convinced that was really an answer to his question, so he tried another tactic. “What did he do before this job?”
He wasn’t in the habit of running background checks of the owners and employees of every company Drummond dealt with. With the company’s global reach, that could amount to thousands of people, and the task was out of his purview, but he did see reports from time to time. Drummond ran financial checks and the PR team made sure nothing about a relationship would publicly backfire on the company. That was it, but now Finn wondered if there was a flaw in their system.
Justin winced. “Now, see, I’m going to answer that and you’re going to get ideas.”
“Respond anyway.”
“He worked for a private military company. Tactical training. That sort of thing.”
Finn blew out a long, labored breath. It was either that or yell loud enough to startle Rania into firing her weapon. “A mercenary.”
“I think he prefers the term private security.”
Watching Justin, Finn realized he got that information too easily. Justin wasn’t really the type to cough up potentially problematic intel without a fight. “Sure he does. Now tell me what you aren’t saying.”
“He got into some trouble.” Justin hesitated before answering. “Running weapons.”
All of the air left Finn’s body. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“There were accusations that Billy helped get weapons from one group to another.” Justin leaned in as he lowered his voice. “And by that I mean from the US military to people not in or affiliated with the military.”
“Why is he in charge of our shipments now?” Finn vowed to rip the Drummond offices apart until he had an answer to that question.
“You guys hired him, so that’s on you. But, honestly, they were just allegations and I’ve never had a problem with him.”
As if that was a good answer. “Until now.”
Justin nodded. “Maybe.”
Dirty Games Page 6