Bridge whistled low.
Ben sighed. "So this is real? What does he want from us?"
“No idea, and that’s the problem. I don't know how seriously we take it. Anyone who knows of his crimes could easily be jerking us about, pretending to be him." I glanced around at the lads. "What do you want to do?"
Drew rubbed his jaw. "What’s our exposure? Do we have to do anything?"
I frowned. "Well, my inclination is to seek and destroy anything that could hurt us. But we need to do some research first. We need someone who would know Theroux and his methodology."
Ben sighed. "Lucas."
I shrugged. "Our erstwhile prince.” Lucas Winston might be a prince of the Winston Isles, but he was also a thief. Former thief. And he had helped us bring down Bram Van Linsted and his father, Marcus.
When we’d learned that Bram had a hand in our mate Toby’s death ten years ago, it was a blow, but not a surprise. Lucas had helped with the plan for revenge, and I knew he’d be in to help us again. “If anything, he can tell us the intangibles. Like reputation, temperament. At least what the rumors are. They’ll help us predict how this Theroux character will act.”
Drew stroked his chin. “There’s got to be more we can do. Can we trace the text? This is too much to be a coincidence.”
“Not that easy. I already tried a trace. The encryption is next level. It can be done, but it will take time.” He was right about this feeling too coincidental. “The text makes me nervous too. Could also be from someone looking to make us spin our wheels since we took Van Linsted off the board.”
Ten years ago, Bram Van Linsted, whose father had been the Director Prime and headed the Elite for well over thirty years, had played an integral part in the death of our friend Toby. A couple months ago when we learned what they’d done, we’d made a vow for payback. One that now extended to Garreth Jameson and Francis Middleton since we’d exacted our revenge on the Van Linsteds.
This new threat, this was something different, something Lucas might have an understanding of.
Ben cleared his throat. “East, keep digging. I’ll call Lucas. Drew, you can speak to the Five. Theroux knew exactly how to get access to East, so he knows who we are. Find out if he’s one of us. The Five would know.”
The Five were The Elite’s checks and balances. They were meant to be the least corrupted of our organization. Which was apparently a tall order.
Drew nodded. “Yeah, okay, I’m on it.”
Bridge nodded. "I’ll work some old contacts, see if I can dig anything up."
It was Drew who asked the obvious question. "How exposed are we?"
That was the crux of things. Theroux had burrowed into our fortress of goddamn solitude like it was a gossamer thin veil. He had our number, and he claimed to know exactly what we were planning. I shook my head. “I don’t know yet."
"I don't like it," Ben murmured. “For now, we wait and watch. And we get Agent Kincade off our backs.”
Bridge rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “We’re on a tightrope, lads. We need to tread carefully.”
Ben nodded. “We do. And we will. Starting with getting Nyla Kincade off our scent.”
“I’m on it. She won’t be a problem.” And she wouldn’t be. I knew just how to deal with her.
2 East
Agent Roger Kincade was a bear of a man. He was tall, about six feet, and broad. Wide. Fit for his age. He looked athletic. I'd put him at 55, maybe. But he had shrewd, hawkish eyes that told me he missed nothing. I had picked the Windsor Club for a reason. It screamed old money. It screamed authoritarian. It screamed ‘my club is better than your club.’ It was meant to shock and awe with its dark paneled wood and genuine gold fixtures.
It was one of the oldest buildings in London. But for all the austerity, there was also a genuine sense of warmth.
Even though he was only a guest, Roger Kincade was greeted like an old friend at the door. I’d picked a vantage point where I could see him walk in. The valet was accommodating, kind, already had his coffee order and asked him if he would like hot towels. Then he was shown directly to my table.
When he arrived, I stood and gave him a smile that should have fallen somewhere between no nonsense and open pleasure. I knew his daughter had gotten her tenacity from somewhere, so I knew he wasn't a man I should play with.
"Section Chief Kincade, it's a pleasure to meet you."
I shook his hand. His grip was firm but not really tight. He was direct, looked me in the eye, and I could see he was a straight shooter.
"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me this afternoon."
"Well, it didn't seem that I had any choice," he said as he pinned me with a level stare.
"Of course you did. I understand you're busy."
"Mr. Hale, what is it exactly that I can do for you?"
Of course, he was straight to the point, direct to the pot of gold. All right then.
I sat back and watched as he took a bite of the scone that had been brought along with his coffee. The man nearly moaned but managed to school his face after a couple of sips of the Italian roast I knew he preferred. When he cocked his head, a small smile tightened his lips.
"I'll give it to you. You sure know how to treat a guest."
"Well, we try. I won't waste your time. I'm here about your daughter, Nyla, Agent Kincade. She's been looking into our organization. And we need her to stop."
He lifted a brow. "Are we going to name this organization?"
I gave him a small smile. "Don’t be coy. You're in the loop because you're a
