by G. K. Parks
Calculated Risk
A Cross Security Investigation
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2021 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN: 1942710283
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-28-8
For my mom, who always reads my books
Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:
Likely Suspects
The Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Whitewashed Lies
On Tilt
Purview of Flashbulbs
The Long Game
Burning Embers
Thick Fog
Warning Signs
Past Crimes
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
Reparation
Retaliation
Hunting Grounds
Liv DeMarco Novels
Dangerous Stakes
Operation Stakeout
Unforeseen Danger
Deadly Dealings
High Risk
Fatal Mistake
Lucien Cross Stories
Fallen Angel
Calculated Risk
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Note from the Author
About the Author
One
“You’re in a good mood.” Justin glanced at me as I entered the office, confused by my humming. “Did you get laid?”
“No, but on the bright side, I didn’t get screwed.” I picked up the stack of mail and flipped through the envelopes. Bill. Bill. Check. Junk. I put the junk in the shred pile, left the bills for Justin to pay, and tore open the check from our latest corporate security overhaul of Rathbone Enterprises. I turned to the desk behind me, but our receptionist was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Gloria?”
“Breakfast run.”
“But she’s the receptionist. Why is she getting breakfast?”
“Lucien,” Justin leaned back in his chair, “aside from the hired muscle and the one forensic expert you couldn’t live without, it’s just the three of us.”
I thought for a moment. Cross Security and Investigations needed more assistants, more techs, and more office space. However, the first two would have to wait until after the move. And to do that, we needed more money. The settlement I’d gotten would put us on the map. But I wanted to make sure we had an ideal office location. The bigger and bolder we looked on the outside, the better.
So far, the vast majority of clients I’d signed had known me from my days on Wall Street and trusted that my business savvy and head for wise tech investments that had made them millions would also safeguard those millions from hackers, thieves, and questionable employees. I’d only taken on a couple of unknowns since. They’d been mostly minor cases with one glaringly obvious exception. Jade McNamara. Again, I found myself humming. Shit. The smile tugged at the corners of my lips. This had to stop.
Rubbing a hand over my mouth, I tried to focus on the negatives. The scars on my back, the weeks spent in the hospital, and the weeks spent recovering were all checks in the con column. No amount of money could fix that or what I’d done to the man who tried to kill Jade and me.
Yet, I found myself focusing on the positives. The payout from the police department padded my bank account. It’d pay for our move. It’d even pay for the equipment Amir Karam forced me to agree to before he’d sign a contract to work for Cross Security. Plus, it meant something far more meaningful. Jade was safe, and in a few hours, she’d be coming home.
Justin quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously, Lucien, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking Rathbone’s check might be enough to hire someone to run errands.”
“Isn’t that my job? Or are you finally promoting me?”
“You already own a stake in the company. Isn’t that enough?”
“I’d like my own office.”
“We’ll see. King Realty is scouting locations for us. As soon as they find something that lives up to Amir’s lab specifications, we’ll discuss your office situation.”
“I hope this guy’s as good as his reputation.” Justin reached into the drawer for the checkbook. “Are you sure you don’t want to set up automatic bill pay? What happens if I take a vacation and no one’s here to keep the lights on?”
“I guess we’ll work in the dark.”
“At least you have a plan, boss.”
“Don’t I always?” I went into what had once been a closet and was now our break room and made a cup of coffee using the espresso maker. Then I made one for Justin and returned to the outer office. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“You have a meeting with your new client at nine, lunch with Miranda to discuss extending her contract at eleven, and conference calls with prospective businessmen to discuss corporate security at two and four.” He slipped the check into the envelope and sealed it. “Are you sure you don’t want to try online trading instead? We’re money guys. We served our time on Wall Street. We could take another stab at it. Don’t you think we’re better equipped to do that than this?”
“Hey.” I narrowed my eyes, knowing my former intern turned executive assistant wanted to yank my chain. It served me right for coming into the office humming a pop song. Frankly, I should have been relieved he didn’t shoot me on sight. Thankfully, he was still one gun safety class away from a carry permit. “I didn’t get my P.I. license for nothing.”
“Yeah, well, I just thought maybe after everything you might have reconsidered. We’re blackballed from most of the investment banks and major trading companies, but you could start your own or invest for yourself. You have that kind of cash now.”
“I had enough before.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that.” Just as I opened my office door, he asked, “Are you sending a car to pic
k up Jade from the airport, or are you going to do it yourself?”
I turned. “How’d you know?”
“I might not have a fancy P.I. license, but I picked up a trick or two.” He also organized my calendar and scheduled most of my meetings.
“I’m picking her up.”
“Is she moving back?”
“I don’t know.”
Justin nodded and returned to paying the bills.
Settling in behind my desk, I reached for the intel I’d compiled on my newest client, Trey Knox. He’d seen the ad I’d taken out on the back of a business magazine and decided to give me a call. I’d done the consultation over the phone.
Knox’s home had been burglarized. His collection of valuable sports memorabilia had been stolen, along with whatever cash, jewelry, and other high-ticket items the thieves had been able to haul off. The police had yet to catch the culprits, and I doubted they would. Even Knox doubted them, which is why he came to me.
Specialty items like signed jerseys and MVP rings would be difficult to fence without catching someone’s attention. That must have been what the police were counting on, assuming they even gave a damn about helping Mr. Knox recover his property, but I was biased.
I went to the police academy and almost graduated. Almost. But my father, Mr. Police Commissioner, made sure that didn’t happen. Just like he let an asshole like Scott Renwin carry a badge.
Again, I found myself falling into the bottomless pit of anger and bitterness. So I shook it off. Mr. Knox had a problem. The cops hadn’t helped him yet, so in the meantime, I might as well try. That’s why I started Cross Security. It was time I put my money where my mouth was.
Shaking off the unexpected anger, I reread the copy of the police report Knox had sent me. The security system had been dismantled, not disarmed. Whoever broke into Knox’s house had to be a professional crew.
Knox lived in a gated community. Getting in and out wouldn’t be easy. The security guards and cameras didn’t catch anything. The interior cameras had been shorted out, and according to the guards’ statements, no one suspicious entered or left the area on the night in question. Knox didn’t see anything, and neither did his neighbors. The police believed the thieves breached the residence by entering through a first floor window. But I had my doubts.
According to what I’d found, several break-ins had occurred in the area over the last few weeks. The police had no leads, but they assumed it was the same crew. However, none of those other burglarized locations had high-end security systems. So either the crooks had moved on to bigger and better things, or someone else broke into Knox’s house, knew exactly how to get in and out without tripping an alarm, and knew what to take. That meant it might be personal.
“Tell me your secrets, Trey Knox.” My fingers flew over the keyboard. Knox, Trey. No criminal record. I checked his employment history. He’d worked his way up to acquisitions manager at the same company where he first started interning seventeen years ago. That probably meant he was loyal and hard-working or unimaginative, complacent, and a kiss-ass. One or the other. It also meant his colleagues must know him well. They’d probably been to his house for barbecues or to watch the big game. That could make them suspects.
I wrote a note to ask about recent problems at work. Then I moved on to his social media presence, but I didn’t find much. He remained professional online. Everything was buttoned up.
After a few quick searches, I found some fantasy sports leagues Knox belonged to, but that didn’t tell me much about his real-life friends or acquaintances. I bookmarked the pages, figuring if nothing else turned up I could do a deep dive on these sports maniacs to see if one of them had the skills and balls necessary to conduct the break-in. As far as I could tell, Knox’s main concern had been his stolen sports memorabilia. He had signed all-star jerseys, a championship ring, pennants, and game balls. And they had all been taken.
According to Knox, these items were irreplaceable. He didn’t seem to give a damn about his watches, cash, or stolen electronics. Those he could replace. His precious collection was another story, and the longer it was gone, the less likely the police were to recover it. Even if they did, they’d hold the items as evidence until after the trial. When I mentioned that tidbit to Knox, he’d grown even more desperate.
I had e-mailed him my boilerplate contract to review and my daily rate. He told me he’d think about it, only to call back an hour later and say he wanted my help. That was two days ago.
I pressed the button on the intercom. “Justin, did you run a credit check on Trey Knox?”
“His credit’s not stellar, but he has enough in the bank to pay us.”
“What about his car and house?”
“Lease and mortgage.”
“Credit card debt?”
“He makes payments every month. His cards have twenty thousand dollar limits, and they’re each about three-quarters full.”
“How many cards does he have?”
“Three.”
“Student loans?”
“None.”
That’s a plus. “Did anything send up a red flag?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” The intercom clicked, and Justin stepped into my doorway, giving me the look that told me he thought it was ridiculous we had an intercom when he was sitting fifteen feet away. “Do you think this is a scam? Insurance fraud?” He handed me a few printed pages. Most of the unpaid charges on Knox’s cards were season tickets and box seats to football and baseball games and auction charges. A few were for online gambling and fantasy leagues. This guy really loved sports.
“He likes expensive toys, but if he just gave up his hobby, he could pay off his cards. So it’s probably not a scam, but I’ll ask him if he had his collection appraised or insured.”
“You might want to take a look at his homeowner’s insurance policy too.”
I pointed a finger pistol at Justin. “Brilliant suggestion. Call Knox and ask him to bring it with him today.”
My assistant glanced at the time. “He might already be on his way, but I’ll see if I can catch him.”
“Thanks.”
Two
“Do you have somewhere else to be?” I asked.
Knox shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the clock. “Sorry, I was just thinking about traffic.”
I rocked back in my chair. “Is this everyone who’s been to your house?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Knox rubbed his forehead and leaned closer to check the list he’d made for the third time. “The police said the cleaning lady has an alibi, but I never thought she’d do something like this. None of my friends would.”
“What about your colleagues?”
“Nah, they’re cool guys. The only times they’ve stopped by were to watch games or help me crunch numbers for work.”
“What about repairmen or delivery guys?”
“The house is still new enough that I haven’t had to get anything repaired, touch wood.” Knox knocked twice on the top of my desk. “The cable guy’s the only person I can think of who’s been inside that I didn’t know, and that was when I first moved in. Everything was still in boxes.”
“When did you move in?” I asked, too lazy to look at the paperwork.
“Four-ish years ago.”
“Any problems with your neighbors? Any complaints or issues?”
“Look, Lucien, I’ve already been over these questions with the police. No one I know would do something like this. Whoever came into my house and stole my stuff is a complete stranger. I wouldn’t affiliate with criminals or shady types.” He’d even said it more than once for emphasis during our previous conversation.
“I wasn’t suggesting that, but it seems the thieves might have had prior knowledge of your security system and the layout of your house. One might even entertain the notion that the thieves knew what was inside your house, which is why you were targeted.”
“Perhaps.” Knox reached for the list of stolen items. “Nowadays, ev
eryone has a tablet. They probably just got lucky with my VR set.”
“Did they just get lucky with two designer watches, a few pairs of gold cufflinks, and five grand in cash?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Knox put the list down. “I’d like to get everything back, but I’m hiring you to find my memorabilia. That’s your top priority. The rest is just icing.”
I reached for the list. “Four signed jerseys, a World Series pennant–”
“Signed by every single player.”
“Uh-huh.” It was worth less than two thousand dollars, but just like everything else in Knox’s collection, he thought it was priceless. “A few bobbleheads, two signed basketballs, a hockey puck from the Stanley Cup finals.” I looked up from the paper. “No soccer?”
“What?”
“Soccer, the most popular sport in the world.”
He stared at me in horror. “I like American sports.”
“America has a soccer team.”
“They suck.” He jerked his chin at the list. “Football, American football, that’s where it’s at.”
“Do they call them baseball cards?” I pointed to the page. “They’re football cards, right? Since it’s football.” I might have been taking a little too much joy out of asking these pointless questions, but it made me feel like a real gumshoe. Perhaps, I needed the practice.
“You can call them trading cards. They have the player stats on the back. Mine were mint, all signed, and encased in protective sleeves.”
“Good idea to keep your assets in protective sleeves.” My thoughts drifted to Jade’s impending arrival. I should make a stop at the pharmacy before I picked her up, just in case she missed me as much as I’d missed her these last few months.
Knox continued to talk about his collection, flashing photos of various pieces toward me as he scrolled through the content on his phone. I tried to pay attention, but this reminded me of second grade show and tell when that one geeky kid who had no friends insisted on showing us his action figures he kept inside their boxes. As a seven year old, I found the idea of having a toy and not playing with it asinine. And Knox’s fondness and devotion to a collection of things that he kept framed and on display but served little to no use seemed just as asinine. “If nothing else, I want that MVP ring back. It took me years to find one for sale, and once I did, I spared no expense. That’s what you have to find.”