“Camera at three o’clock,” she breathed. “Don’t stare.”
“Yeah?” Jessie asked.
“There’s no security station. Who’s on the other side?”
Jessie glanced up to the balcony, gaze drifting across the monitors, double-checking. No camera feeds in sight.
“You see a hatch?” Jessie said. “Anything that looks like a basement?”
“Nothing. Could be off-site.”
“Or hidden for a reason,” Jessie said.
“Whoever’s controlling that camera is either bored enough to watch a guided tour—”
“Or checking out anybody who shows up,” Jessie said, “because they fed somebody to their pet sharks the other day and they’re afraid someone might follow Cooper’s trail.”
The tour was wrapping up. Dr. Joy led the pack back toward the open barn door as she answered questions from a tourist with a thick French accent. Harmony felt a decision weighing down on her. She could walk away empty-handed or take a chance.
“Got an idea,” she murmured to Jessie. “Could be dangerous, though.”
Jessie gave her a nudge. “That’s my favorite kind of idea. Go for it. I’ll follow your lead.”
Harmony’s fingers glided over her microbead earpiece as she eased it from her pocket. She turned it on as she palmed it and slipped it into her left ear, covering the move by scratching an imaginary itch. She was transmitting now, her voice bouncing back to Kevin and April at the Imperator. She didn’t speak, not yet, but they’d see her feed go live. No time to fill them in on the plan; she’d just have to trust that they’d pick up on her intentions and follow through on their end.
As the tourists drifted out, she and Jessie stayed behind. Dr. Joy gave Harmony a small, almost shy-looking smile. Not the first time—she’d drawn the researcher’s full attention more than once during the tour, feeling like they were having a one-sided conversation.
“Thank you for the tour,” Harmony said. “I have to say, that was entertaining and educational.”
“That’s what we aim for.” Dr. Joy held Harmony’s gaze like she was caressing it in her hand. “Are you…local, or—”
“We’re from out of town. Actually, we’re in the process of scouting out some new investment opportunities for our firm.”
Harmony held out her hand.
“The name’s West,” she said. “Helena West. I work for Diehl Innovations.”
12.
On board the plane, Kevin sat up so fast his chair rattled. He turned to April, eyes wide as Harmony’s voice echoed in his bulky headphones.
“What is she doing?”
April sipped her tea, her voice dry.
“Her job,” she said.
“No, I’m saying, that’s not her cover. They’re supposed to be insurance-company reps. Why the hell would she say she works for Bobby Diehl?”
“She patched us in for a reason,” April mused. “Clearly, she expects us to figure it out. And quickly.”
* * *
Dr. Joy’s smile lingered, but some of the bubbly enthusiasm drained from her eyes.
“You folks have been in the news a lot lately,” she said.
“And not for the right reasons, I know,” Harmony said. “The public still associates us with the…misdeeds of our former CEO. Hopefully, our upcoming rebranding will help, once we take his name out of it. That’s part of why we were brought on. My coworker—”
“Madeline,” Jessie said, stepping in for a quick handshake.
“Madeline and I were just hired last week, as part of the changeover initiative. Our team has been tasked with carving out new footholds, now that our cell-phone business…well, let’s just say consumer confidence in our product has slipped a little. We’re looking to diversify.”
* * *
“I don’t get it,” Kevin said. “Their insurance-company cover was bulletproof. You know how much work we put into that? Why is she tossing it all out the window?”
“She’s improvising in the field,” April said. She inhaled the steam wafting from her tea, camphor and fragrant herbs unlocking passages in her mind, pointing her toward the unwritten plan.
April had an impossible job. She wasn’t the head of Vigilant Lock’s psychology department: she was the psychology department. The reborn organization had the reach to find and recruit operatives, the resources to send them into battle with the powers of hell and worse, but not the staff to put them together again when they came back broken.
Arguably, impossible or not, she was the best woman for the task. She’d honed her skills in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, putting her doctorate to work unraveling the minds of human monsters. Handy, when duty called her to provide insight into the inhuman variety. But April considered her talent as a profiler secondary to the task of keeping her team mentally healthy and whole. To do that, she had to know how they thought. She had to anticipate Harmony and Jessie’s moves and have support ready before they needed it.
“She’s baiting them. Hired one week ago. That’s significant. Bobby has been on the run for months, with no hand in his former company’s operations.”
“Yeah, but baiting them why?” Kevin said.
“She suspects these people were involved in Agent Cooper’s death. Consider the possibilities. If Bobby penetrated Cooper’s cover and set her up to be killed, a pair of Cooper’s coworkers showing up will draw immediate attention. If Cooper was murdered by Bobby’s traitorous ‘friend,’ who would rather see Bobby dead than hand over whatever they’d promised him, same outcome. This is a deliberate provocation.”
“They’re gonna get found out. All these people have to do is put in a call to Diehl’s HR department, and they’ll find out nobody named ‘Helena West’ even works for—wait.” Kevin spun his chair around, facing front, huddling over his keyboard as he rattled off a machine-gun streak of commands. “That’s why she patched us in.”
“Insight?” April asked.
“Cooper was Bobby’s right-hand woman—for his legal, non-shady shit—which meant she had access to the whole Diehl Innovations company database. And in about five minutes, I’m going to have her login password. The company doesn’t know she’s dead yet, no reason they’d revoke her permissions. I’ll slip in, alter the human-resources registry to add a couple of freshly hired employees, and cover my tracks on the way out.”
April was in motion at her own console, listening to Kevin while her fingers dialed up a direct line to Bethesda. She swiveled down the microphone arm on her headset.
“Print Shop? This is Dr. Cassidy, authorization nineteen-seven. We need a rush revision of the business cards you prepared for Agents Temple and Black. Same cover names, new company and titles. No time for a delivery from headquarters. I’ll transmit the specifications and once you design them, we’ll put in a rush order at a local civilian printer so I can deliver them personally.”
* * *
Dr. Joy was playing with her hair.
It was a tiny tic, a gesture of habit as she curled a stray golden lock around her fingertip, mostly with her eyes on Harmony. They stood in the shadow of the security camera, the lens tracking their every move.
“So, Doctor—” Harmony was saying.
“Please. Call me Neptune.” She chuckled. “I know, right? I was doomed from birth. Get a name like Neptune and you basically either have to become a marine biologist or join NASA. To be honest, I think my parents were hoping for NASA, but they pretend not to be disappointed when we get together for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Neptune,” Harmony said, trying to mirror the scientist’s easy smile. “We think that Nautilus Conservation Research might be an excellent investment opportunity for us. That is, if you’re in the market for new sponsors.”
“Well, it’s not my decision to make, but—” Neptune paused. Five feet to her right, an office phone perched on the edge of a sleek glass desk began to trill. She checked the caller ID and scooped it up. “Sir? Of course. Yes, absolutely.”
> Harmony and Jessie lingered on the edge of a mostly one-sided conversation. Eventually Neptune finished agreeing and hung up the phone.
“Always watching,” the scientist breathed, in a tone that showed just how little she enjoyed it. She shot a split-second glance at the camera before turning back to them. “Speaking of decision-makers, that was Dr. Cranston, our president and founder. He asked me to say he’d be pleased if you’d be able to join him for dinner tonight. Say around seven? He’d like to hear more about your company and what you might be able to offer.”
Harmony read the look in her partner’s eye. She nodded. “We’d love to. Which restaurant?”
“His home,” Neptune said. “Dr. Cranston prefers to entertain guests at his home. It’s in Parkland Estates; I’ll give you directions. Can I walk you out?”
They stepped through the open barn-style door, into the muggy haze of the parking lot. The canopy of the summer sky was just starting to fade but still glowing, like an azure gem flecked with soot. Neptune stayed close at Harmony’s side as she rattled off a long list of streets and turns by memory. Clearly, she’d made the drive more than once.
“I mostly get a T-shirt and flip-flop crowd on these tours,” Neptune told her. “Not a lot of women in suits and ties. It’s a distinctive style.”
Harmony blinked at her. “Oh. Well. It’s just…me.”
“Do you do sports?” Neptune gestured at her head. “I mean, the short hair. It’s a sporty look.”
“I try to stay active.”
The scientist watched them go, falling back to the open doorway as they got into the car. Jessie tossed Harmony the keys, belted in on the passenger side, and slipped her earpiece in. Her lips were pursed like she was about to burst out laughing.
“What?” Harmony said, throwing the car into reverse. She swung it around, aiming for the open road, with Neptune silhouetted in the rearview mirror.
“You are unbelievable.”
“What?”
“You didn’t catch that, did you? At all.”
“I don’t know which ‘that’ you’re referring to,” Harmony said, “so obviously not.”
“She was hitting on you.”
Harmony pursed her lips, like she was doing math in her head. Long division.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh my God,” Jessie said, grinning. “She was all over you from the second we walked in. I was getting jealous back there. And I don’t normally get jealous, because I’m a goddamn sexual tyrannosaurus. But nope, I barely got a handshake out of her. She was all about the sweet, sweet Harmony.”
Harmony squirmed in her seat. “I…I don’t think she was. I mean, are you really sure?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. And what did you think that was all about, her commenting on your suit and your hair? She was trying to figure out if you’re gay.”
“I think we’re all trying to figure that out,” Kevin’s voice said in Harmony’s left ear. “Oh, shit. Forgot my mic was turned on. Sorry.”
“Wow.” Jessie slid back in her seat and whistled. “Slick moves, champ.”
“Uh. Anyway. Reason my mic is on: I’ve got good news. We’ve got you covered, or at least as covered as you can get, under the circumstances. I slipped your new identities into the roster at Diehl Innovations. If anyone calls to check up on your story, they’ll verify you were both hired last week. Only problem is there’s no way to insert you into the phone registry from off-site, so if they try to call you there, they’ll find out you don’t actually have an office.”
“Not worried,” Harmony said, happy for a change of subject. “If they check up on us, odds are they’ll call HR and use the employment-verification trick, just like we do. Easiest way to find out where somebody works.”
April’s voice chimed in over the line. “We’ve also upgraded your accommodations to better maintain your new personae. Insurance agents stay at the Holiday Inn. Six-figure corporate negotiators stay at the Vinoy Renaissance Hotel.”
“Yes,” Jessie whispered, pumping her fist.
“I’ll need to rendezvous with you, to provide reservation details and your freshly printed business cards.”
Harmony glanced at the dashboard clock.
“We can swing by the hangar on our way to dinner,” she said. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
They disconnected the line and pocketed their earpieces.
“I have clearly failed you as a partner,” Jessie said.
“What?” Harmony squinted at her. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you have no game. It is my responsibility to impart game unto you, and I have not lived up to my natural and moral obligations. This is a proverbial ‘give a woman a fish, she eats for a day’ situation. See, I thought I wanted to get you laid. In truth, I need to teach you how to get yourself laid.”
“We don’t need to have this conversation,” Harmony said.
“You’re overlooking the advantages of interpersonal skills,” Jessie said. “If these people are shady, Neptune’s a valuable source of intel. You might have to pump her for information. Vigorously. For hours on end. All night long, if need be.”
Harmony half smiled, half grimaced. “Stop. And I don’t overlook the advantages. I just know you’re better at it than I am. You’re the people person, I do investigation and tactics.”
“You know,” Jessie said, “sometimes it’s smart to stick with what you’re good at.”
“But,” Harmony said, anticipating it.
“But sometimes that can be a crutch, to keep you in your comfort zone. And a comfort zone is nothing but a cage with nice furniture. So, what’s that tactical mind of yours telling you about this dinner invitation?”
“It’s telling me that either Nautilus Research is hurting for capital, or this Dr. Cranston—who is creepily fixated on watching tour groups—is way too eager to meet a couple of random out-of-town businesspeople.”
“You think he’s Bobby’s guy? The man with the mystery briefcase?”
“I’d say there’s an excellent chance,” Harmony said.
“If I was in his shoes,” Jessie said, “I’d be thinking we were probably more of Bobby’s people, coming to find out why Cooper hasn’t brought back the goods yet.”
“Agreed.”
Harmony drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
“Which means,” Harmony said, “there’s also an excellent chance that he’s going to try and kill us tonight.”
13.
If Cranston was short on cash, all he needed to do was sell his house.
He lived in a millionaire’s playground on a street lined with palm trees. He made his nest in a stone cathedral the color of white beach sand, with an ink-black scalloped rooftop, Spanish windows, and a four-car garage, secluded behind a ring of wrought-iron fencing. Two cars sat in the kidney-shaped driveway: a polished storm-gray BMW coupe and, incongruously, a battered Jetta with a Greenpeace bumper sticker. Harmony parked next to the Jetta.
Cold metal fluttered against Harmony’s breastbone. She wore an ancient, tarnished coin on a slender chain under her dress shirt, ringed with a faded Greek inscription. Mostly for good luck. It had been passed down from her great-great-grandmother, first witch of her family line, who claimed it once belonged to the Oracle of Delphi.
Probably not. Great-great-grandma was a bit of a huckster. All the same, the coin got jumpy in places where reality had gone thin around the edges. Harmony thumped her finger against her salmon-pink necktie, quieting the coin with a tap, and slid into her second sight. Her vision painted the house and the shady, quiet street in glimmering azure, but nothing stood out, no signal in the mundane noise. Jessie asked a question with her eyes.
“Not sure,” Harmony said. “Coin’s acting up.”
“Magic on the premises?”
Harmony shoved open the car door.
“Sometimes it just goes off. Reacts to stray bits of weirdness, scraps of random cosmic energy.”
�
��Or?” Jessie asked.
“Or something’s here from someplace else.”
The doorbell chimed, echoing and dour, like an invitation to Sunday mass. The woman who answered it wore a maid’s uniform in funeral black, a white bonnet adorning her long, straight hair, hands sheathed in satin gloves. She had a wide mouth with thick, wormy lips, and leaden-lidded eyes that made Harmony think of a swamp toad.
“We’re—” Jessie started to say.
“The dinner guests,” the maid responded, as if announcing a medical prognosis. “Yes. You will follow me.”
She turned without a word, trudging through a foyer lined in pristine alabaster. They trailed in her wake, eyes sharp. Not just for a potential ambush, though the risk was never far from Harmony’s mind: beyond getting justice for Cooper, they still had to figure out what happened to Agent Dominguez and recover the mystery briefcase, if it even existed. Too many questions to go in with guns blazing. They’d get their answers, and then they’d deal with Cooper’s killer.
High windows invited the last shreds of dying sunlight into the mansion, painting long streaks along gleaming ice-white tile. The air was museum cold, not a speck of dust, and a grand piano perched at the edge of a sitting room. Cranston’s tastes ran to ivory velvet and polished glass. Fragile, and clean like a surgical theater waiting for the first patient of the day.
The maid hauled aside a wooden door, rattling on a recessed track, and sullenly waved them into the parlor beyond. The room was half library and half aquarium. Bookshelves, full from floor to ceiling, alternated space with panels of glass and murky water. The tank partitions were built behind the bookcases, giving the impression of one vast watery enclosure all around them. Schools of neon goby, tiny and bright electric blue, fluttered between musty hardcovers. Jellyfish pulsed their way, tendrils wavering, alongside marine biology textbooks, while striped Siamese tigerfish stood guard over Chaucer and Proust.
Right to the Kill (Harmony Black Book 5) Page 9