He shook his head. Extended the folder more forcefully.
Finn sighed dramatically. “Okay fine, technically you’re the security manager. Other people will be doing the actual grunt work of running and driving. But you’ll have a nametag and a cheap suit. Everybody will look right through you, even with those cheekbones.”
Another shake of the head. “I will not—”
“And with an assumed name and cover, there will be no evidence anyone at Phoenix Incorporated could use to prove you were ever there. Not even Marisa will be able to find you.”
Trey didn’t stop glaring, but I saw the wheels turning in his head. He tucked the folder under his arm and ceased arguing.
Finn looked satisfied. “It’s only one night. And this way you’re right in the thick of things if we need you. We being Tai. I won’t be on premises.”
I looked up from my paperwork. “What? Why not?”
“Because they know what I am. Everybody clams up when I’m around. Don’t worry, I have covert protection in place, close protection for Nick. Plus the usual perimeter protocols and the resort’s own security team.”
Trey made a skeptical noise at that. Finn tapped his folder.
“I’m not talking about those studio rent-a-clowns Quint hired at the base camp. Look at your paperwork. I included the résumés of the team I have in place. You’ll find them satisfactory, I am sure.”
He took her up on it, opening the folder again and paging through it. “Where will Tai and I be staying?”
“You, Mr. Seaver, are in the staff cottage, which is connected to the check-in station, so you’re at choke point for all entries and exits with video surveillance of the entire resort right in front of you. Tai is in one of the guest cottages because she’s one of the guests.” Trey opened his mouth to protest, but Finn didn’t let him get one word out. “She’s in the cottage right next to the station, don’t even start.”
I shook my head. “Why would somebody like me, a glorified prop person, get to stay in one of the fancy cottages?”
“Good question. I’m sure somebody will think of it.”
“And then they’ll come talk to me.”
Finn tapped her temple. “See? Brains at work. Trust me, with you in the foreground and Trey in the background, we’ll have the intelligence gathering covered.”
Trey was still wary. “I refuse to be named Steve.”
“Too late. Your name is already on the manifest. And your nametag.”
He glared harder at her. She beamed at him and gave the heavy bag a shove, watched it swing.
“Go ahead, Mr. Seaver. Get acquainted with yourself. I’ll check in later. In the meantime, you’ll need to down market your wardrobe. Lose the Italian fanciness and get something off the rack.”
He ignored that. “When do I need to be there?”
“Friday at four. Tai will come later, around seven, with the other guests.”
And which point we had to pretend we didn’t know each other. Trey did not like that. He didn’t like a lot of the plan, but the professional part of him knew that Finn had done a bang-up job. He wasn’t ready to admit it, however.
He handed me his folder. “Keep this, please. I need to get the attendance rolls from the front desk.”
And then he left. I waited until he was out of earshot before I turned to Finn. “What in the devil was that about him getting fired?”
“I know, right?” Her eyes twinkled. “When he was twenty, he worked at the Ritz Carlton as a valet. Part-time evenings. I managed to dig up his employee record. Two great evaluations in a row. And then suddenly…boom. He’s fired.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He was rehired a week later. I poked some more, but that part of his record is sealed, and I mean tight. Lawyer work. I recognize legal legerdemain when I see it. He’s never mentioned this to you?”
I shook my head. When Trey was twenty, he was a college junior with his sights set on the Atlanta Police Department and a good start on his criminal justice degree.
Finn frowned. “Huh. That’s even stranger.” She shrugged. “Oh well. An investigation for another time. I’ve got to run, but I’ll meet you Friday, get you the final details.”
She gave the weight bag one last punch and left. I remained behind, ravenously, ridiculously, deeply curious. Trey may have thought he could just walk out of that conversation, but there was something he and I had in common—once we caught the scent of interesting prey, we found it really hard to let it go.
He’d be letting go of this particular secret, though. I had ways of making him talk.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The class was scheduled to work on back choke, but I knew back choke so well I could do it in my sleep. Turn the head to relieve pressure on the windpipe. Drop the center of gravity to put your opponent off balance. Follow-up options abounded—thumb to the eye socket, elbow to the solar plexus, punch to the groin. So many ways to wreak havoc on the tender vulnerable parts of a no-goodnik.
Trey waited on the mat, barefoot. He didn’t bow or make any other acknowledgment when I joined him. This was no martial art we were practicing—no forms, no katas, no ritual politeness. Just down and dirty self defense.
I pulled out my handwraps. “You’re annoyed.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I realized we were at the crucial juncture where the rubber hits the road. Or not. The rubber could also spin in place and smoke and scorch and go absolutely nowhere.
I stood face to face with him. “We’re going to be separated. You didn’t see that coming, but since this whole investigation is your idea, you know you can’t back out of it. But you want to. Bad.”
He didn’t saying anything. I started wrapping my hand—three times around the wrist, five times around the palm, criss-cross between the fingers.
