He said, ‘I’m scared.’
King said, ‘You’re alive.’
Choi nodded and shut the door. King watched through the glass as he shoved his hands in his pockets, put his hood up, and strode away, swallowed by the darkness of the lookout. King reached over his own shoulder and smacked the heel of his hand against the partition wall, one solid thunk. Slater got the message and clambered out of the cargo hold, rounding to the front compartment and taking Choi’s place in the passenger seat.
When he closed the door he said, ‘How are we going to spin this to Frankie?’
‘Blame Carter. Not the other guys. We’re not convincing anyone that those two meatheads masterminded anything.’
‘We can convince Frankie that they were pissed about having to babysit the newbies.’
Slater understood where King was going with it, and nodded his understanding. ‘Make the call, then.’
Overlooking the black waters of the bay, King dialled. There was no wait. Frankie answered immediately, almost before the first ring. It was only twenty minutes after they’d supposedly carried out the job.
‘Put Carter on,’ Frankie demanded. ‘He’s violated protocol. He was supposed to text confirmation.’
King said, ‘You got bigger problems to worry about than a confirmation text.’
A pause. ‘What?’
King made himself angry, quickened the pace of his speech. ‘You’d better be paying us for this bullshit. This isn’t what we signed up for, Frankie. Your men are goddamn cowboys.’
‘Slow down.’
‘You need to fucking—’
‘Slow down,’ Frankie hissed. ‘What happened?’
King pretended he was bringing his breathing under control. ‘You should’ve given them a heads-up before you let us on board. They sure didn’t like it. Spent the whole ride to El Camino trying to antagonise us, and we kept our mouths shut. That pissed them off more so on the way back after the job they stopped and forced us out at gunpoint.’
Frankie sucked air through his teeth. ‘I gotta go.’
‘Wait,’ King said. ‘Before you call them, you should know they’re gonna bluff you. They spent most of the ride cussing you out for bringing us on board without knowing anything about us. They said you were amateur hour. They said you were an impulsive little bitch. I’m sure they’re not gonna mention that when you call them. I thought you should know.’
He could sense Frankie internally combusting in the furious silence. The man didn’t make a sound, but the quiet seemed to simmer. King let it drag out.
Frankie tried to reactivate an intimidating aura. ‘Both of you get back here as fast as you can. Get a cab. Don’t think about going anywhere else. And if your story doesn’t check out…’
‘Don’t try that anymore,’ King snapped. ‘You fucked up, Frankie. You put us with hotheads. We’re fucking professionals and we expect to be treated as such. So get out of here with the tough-guy act. Clean up your mess and sort your employees out.’
It’s hard to be angry when you’re defending yourself from accusations.
Psychology 101.
Frankie said, ‘Just get back here,’ but his tone was deflated.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ King said. ‘We’ll be there. Focus on sorting your own mess out.’
He hung up.
Slater let go of the breath he’d been holding for much of the conversation. ‘Risky pushing him like that. But it sounds like it worked.’
‘Honestly, what isn’t risky?’
‘You really want to go right back there?’
‘Of course,’ King said. ‘We’re his best employees now. The rest of them skipped town.’
47
The dining table that Heidi’s smart tablet rested on had cost her five hundred thousand dollars.
When she read the news headline on the tablet’s screen, it struck her how little any of this luxury mattered.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE: CAFFEINE WONDER-DRUG ROLLOUT HAMPERED BY BEHIND-THE-SCENES NIGHTMARES.
The article itself was even worse.
It described, in detail, the supposed tyranny of Vitality+’s office politics. It wasn’t even the work of that cretin Choi, whose body was hopefully brutalised and photographed by now. She’d planned to use that priceless piece of blackmail to shut down the few papers she didn’t yet have control over. She had a short list of dissidents she’d planned to intimidate, journalists and reporters she was aware weren’t cooperating, but the guy who’d written this hit piece hadn’t even been on her radar.
Which worried her.
In an instant, the $12.5 million mansion surrounding her seemed more like a hollow prison than a status symbol. The high ceilings weren’t something to be proud of anymore. It was just more emptiness, more of the feeling that she was playing a part in a play she couldn’t control.
A door opened in her mind.
For the first time, she didn’t close it.
Darkness spewed forth. Visions of depravity, flashes of madness — tearing apart everyone who’d ever given her a sly look in the office, rolled their eyes at her unrealistic deadlines, talked behind her back, told her “no.” Which was a long list. At least, then, prison would be enjoyable. She’d always have those memories to cherish. And considering the extent of what she’d done, the lies she’d spun, she’d be going to jail for decades anyway. Financial crimes are punished ruthlessly because you’re robbing the rich instead of the poor. You’re spinning a web of lies to venture capitalists instead of salaried workers getting ripped off by their mortgages.
What’s the difference? she asked herself.
Money. That’s the difference. The investors have the resources to punish you for your actions. So, if this was all ousted, which it soon would be given the article was on the front page, well…
What’s the difference between going down for life for financial crimes and going down for life for financial crimes plus murder?
Only one option carried the possibility of vengeance.
She read the whole article three times in a row, beginning to end, and with each rotation her stomach twisted tighter. Beside the tablet, her phone lit up like a Christmas tree. Missed call after missed call after missed call. She didn’t even want to think about her emails.
On each read she dwelled on the same six words.
“Several anonymous sources from within Vitality+…”
So that’s it, she thought. We’re playing that
