Chapter Eight
He drove through London and continued outside the city. He was grateful Diana hadn’t asked where they were going. He was still debating the merit of telling her the truth: that he was a career criminal. That he worked with people who were both dangerous and violent. That he himself was both dangerous and violent when the situation called for it.
That he was in love with her and had been since he’d first helped her up on that playground all those years ago.
He told himself it wasn’t the right time. Wasn’t the right circumstance. The last thing Diana needed was another shock. Deep down, he knew it was an excuse. A convenient one, but an excuse nonetheless. The truth is, he feared her reaction. Feared she would no longer trust him, or even worse, that she would no longer want him in her life. If that were to happen, he wouldn’t even be able to blame her. And yet he didn’t want to think about his life without the bright spot that was Diana Barrett. She was his sun.
Had been for as long as he could remember.
He navigated the car off the highway and wound his way through the streets outside London to a generic looking office building. Pulling into the parking lot made him feel better. It looked like any other company where people pushed paper all day. He would use his cover story. Tell Diana it was a friend’s information technology company. He felt like a bastard lying yet again, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to spill his guts.
No, that had been back at the flat, you lying coward.
He silenced the inner voice. There was enough time to feel like shit later, and he had no doubt he would do so.
“What is this?” Diana asked as they walked toward the nondescript glass doors at the side of the building.
“It’s a friend’s company,” he said, punching numbers into the keypad next to the door. A muffled beep sounded from inside the walls of the building, and he pulled open the door. “I called early this morning. I think they might have some information on the men who were at the bank last night.”
She nodded, a shadow crossing her features. His fists tightened at his sides. It was an involuntary reaction: the desire to hurt someone who had hurt Diana. Bloodlust for the pain of someone who had caused her pain. He had felt it when they were kids. Had had to count to ten in an effort to keep himself from pummeling anyone who teased her, and later, any boy who looked at her too long and hard. He knew instinctively that while Diana’s patience seemed boundless, she wouldn't like that about him. And he still wanted her to like everything about him.
They stepped into a small hall with an empty, glassed-in reception area. The carpet was somewhere on the color spectrum between blue and gray, something that was probably bought by every company in London looking to save a buck. Farrell wasn’t cheap. He spent money where it was necessary. Where it mattered. But the headquarters of their digital operation was meant to be under the radar, and Farrell was good at playing the part.
Any part.
But Leo obviously still had a lot to learn if he was having so much trouble keeping the truth from Diana. He fished out his keys and opened the door to another long hall, then closed it securely behind them.
“You have a key to your friend’s company?” Diana asked.
“It’s for emergencies.” Leo almost winced as he said it. “In case something happens to him.”
She nodded, her brow furrowed as she processed all the information.
They moved down the hall, past large rooms lined with computers. Some of the chairs were manned by people staring intently at the screens or typing furiously. Others were empty. There was no noise except for the tapping of keys, no Muzak to give the place ambience. The coders and hackers they had on staff had their own rituals. They came armed with headphones and smart phones, with an array of food — some of it imported from other countries — and wearing everything from hipster flannel and skinny jeans to three piece suits. The people who worked at Digital Operations weren’t of the same ilk as the people in the rest of Farrell’s operations. They weren’t hired to scare people. To hurt them.
They were hired for their skill at coding and hacking, their ability to trace a well-hidden IP address or access systems with multiple firewalls and one-of-a-kind security measures.
They didn’t hire themselves out. Didn’t take corporate clients the way Nico Vitale had in New York. Farrell was all about Farrell, and now, about Jenna, the woman who’d once left him for New York, and Lily, their daughter. Everything he did, including the Digital Operations Center, was done to increase his power — and his monetary return — over London’s organized crime. The DOC allowed them to hack computer systems that gave them firsthand knowledge of police activity, information from associates that allowed them to increase their profit margin, and most importantly, a heads up when someone had turned traitor — or when they were thinking about it.
“Leo! There you are!”
He turned toward the voice, his gaze landing on a tall, slender woman with long blond hair and a wide smile that was more suited to the red carpet than Farrell’s hidden DOC.
“Here I am,” he said, turning to Diana. “Diana, this is Briony. Briony, Diana Barrett.”
He wasn’t worried about Briony giving anything away. She’d proven time and again to be as secure as one of the vaults at Abbott Bank. She would answer his questions directly, but she would volunteer nothing.
They were all trained to do exactly the same.
She tucked a piece of hair behind one of her ears and held out a hand. “So nice to meet you, Diana. Welcome to our humble abode.”
Diana smiled. “Thank you.”
“We have that information all cued up for you in the conference room,” Briony said. She was slightly nervous around him, a product of his position as Farrell’s second-in-command. He didn't like the deference — he never had — and he hurried forward, avoiding her eyes.
“Can I get you something?” Briony asked behind him. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Diana?”
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Great,” Briony said. “Let me grab my laptop. I’ll meet you in the conference room.”
Leo led Diana to the end of the hall. The room at the end of it was monopolized by a long table of polished wood and three enormous screens mounted to one of the walls.
Leo pulled out a chair. Diana lowered herself into the plush leather, and Leo took the seat next to her. She looked around, her eyes taking in the room. It was more luxurious than the rest of the office, something that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Diana always had an eye for the finer things, yet another reason they weren’t on the same playing field. He saw the flicker of interest in her eyes as she combed the simple but high-end furnishings, the expensive electronic equipment, the glowing mahogany of the conference table.
“Sorry about that,” Briony said, closing the door behind her. She sat at the head of the table and set up her laptop, then looked to Leo for approval. He nodded, and a picture bloomed to life on one of the television screens.
He heard Diana’s soft gasp beside him, knew she was shocked by the image of two men striding across the bank’s lobby. He reached out, took her hand under the table. He’d wanted to spare her this, but he wouldn’t be able to protect her unless she agreed not to go to the police. And she wouldn’t agree to that unless he made it clear how much danger she would be in if she did.
“Two men entered the lobby of Abbot Bank of London five hours after closing.” Briony spoke in a clipped voice. This wasn’t personal for her. It was just another job, another task handed down from on high. “We don’t know how they got in, although there was no evidence on the cameras of any kind of force, not during their entry anyway.”
“How did you get this?” Diana said next to him.
“We hacked into the security cameras at Abbott,” Briony said simply. “It’s what we do.”
Diana pulled her arm away from Leo’s grasp, turned her eyes back to the screen. “Go ahead.”
“The men continued despite protestations from the guard, who was promptly shot.” Leo watched as the men on the camera raised their weapons, the guns flaring as they fired. Diana flinched next to him as Briony continued. “They went to the elevators, which by all accounts, they took to the fifteenth floor.”
“No time gap?” Leo asked.
“Nothing significant,” Briony said. “It took them thirty seconds to reach the elevators after shooting the guard, and another fifty-six seconds to emerge in the executive lobby. It checks out.”
Leo nodded, and she continued.
“The suspects exited on the thirteenth floor, where they continued through the lobby and open work area to the office of Margaret Kinsley.” The image on the screen switched angles. Briony had obviously edited the footage together from multiple cameras to give them a continuous look at the path the men had taken.
“Was anyone else in the office at the time?” Leo asked.
“Only Miss Barrett.”
“Continue.”
“The men entered Ms. Kinsley’s office at approximately 10:59PM.”
Maggie’s image blossomed on the screen. Leo watched as she looked up from her computer, her mouth opening in shock as the men entered her office. She got up from her desk, stumbled backward toward the window that overlooked the city. The men advanced, and one of them grabbed her, forced her back into her desk chair.
“I don’t want to see this,” Diana said.
Briony looked at Leo as if for permission. He nodded, and the screen went black.
“Are these the men who chased you?” Leo asked Diana.
“One of them,” she said, her head in her hands. “The shorter one.”
Leo looked at Briony. “Who are they?”
Two of the television screens came back to life, this time with pictures of the two men and a list of basic statistics.
“We put the images through the facial recognition software and got a hit on both. The one on the left, the shorter one as Miss Barrett said, is Omar Toumi. Spent a lot of time in Algerian prison, rumored ties to organized crime there.”
Leo let that sink in. Their business had once had rules. An honor code of sorts. But that had all ended with the fall of the Syndicate over a year ago. Now their business was like the Wild West.
No law. No rules. No honor code.
The name wasn’t familiar, but he wanted to ask if Omar Toumi was known to them. If they’d worked with him before. He glanced at Diana and decided against it. There was only so much she could be expected to hear without asking more questions. He would do the homework himself in private.
“And the other one?” Leo asked.
“Antonis Stavros.”
Leo looked at her. “Antonis Stavros?” The name was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
She nodded. “Ties to the Greek mob, rumored dealings with arms dealers in Russia, the Middle East, Israel… You name it.”
Leo rubbed his jaw as he processed the information, trying to formulate the questions he could conceivably ask in Diana’s company.
“Any ties to Abbott that we know of?” he asked.
“We’re still working on that. They have surprisingly good security. I’ll let you know when we crack it, although that’s no guarantee. A lot of it’s done by account number. Might not find anything even if Stavros did have an account there.”
“What do we know about his family? His home?”
The image on the screen changed to one of a map. Leo immediately recognized Morocco, the Alboran sea running between it and Spain. The image teased his mind, and he spent a few seconds trying to put his finger on the knowledge that hid there.
“Hometown is Thessaloniki, Greece. Has a compound there, and a sister.”
“Would she help us?” Leo didn’t have to be more specific. They needed to find Antonis Stavros. Leo needed to put him down — and anyone else who knew about Diana — before they came after her in earnest.
“Doubt it,” Briony said. “She’s married to her brother’s best friend.”
“Why are we even having this conversation?” Diana asked. “It’s not our problem. It’s up to the police to find these men, although I’m sure they’ll be grateful for the legwork you’ve done.”
Leo sat in silence for a minute, debating his next move before finally deciding he didn’t have a choice. “Put it up.”
Diana looked from him to Briony, clearly confused. A moment later, the center screen filled with a list of names. Leo waited, letting Diana’s eyes travel the length of the list as she read. Leo read as well, although he knew the list by heart. It was broken up by districts and divisions, with the names of their informants listed under each one.
Diana stood. “What is this?”
“I think you know,” Leo said softly.
“I’d like to hear it from you.”
“It’s a list of police officers on the take from organized crime.” Leo avoided looking at Briony, knowing Diana would pick up on the cue, would see it as a sign that there were more secrets to be revealed.
“How do you know this?” she asked.
“We know,” Leo said.
“How?”
Leo slammed his hand down on the table, then forced himself to draw in a calming breath before standing, facing her. “The people who work here are good at finding things out. You’re just going to have to trust me. We know.”
She stared into his eyes, like she might find the answers to all her questions there. Then she turned away, pacing the room. “This is why you brought me here first,” she said. “To keep me from going to the police.”
“To protect you from them,” Leo corrected her.
“There has to be some way…” she started. “Some way to get their help.”
“Everyone talks on the police force,” Briony said. “If you go to them, it’s almost inevitable that word will get out you’re cooperating.”
Leo held his breath as she talked, then released it when she avoided the issue of the DOC’s status as one of Farrell’s criminal enterprises. One that was a crucial part of the business Leo conducted on a daily basis.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Diana’s cheeks were flushed as she turned back to Leo, her eyes flashing. “Hide? Change my name?”
“I need some time,” Leo said. “Time to find out more about Stavros and Toumi. Time to figure out a way to get them in without alerting the wrong people. Without letting them know where you are.”
“They could be getting away right now,” Diana said. “They could be anywhere. The longer we wait, the greater the chance they’ll have disappeared.”
“They aren’t going to disappear,” he said. “Not right away.”
“How do you know?”
Briony answered for him. “Because they have to find you first.”