They have both been uninvited to the event tomorrow. This is most unfortunate. But you know that without trust, there can be no business.
Regretfully.
GDII
* * * *
“That rat bastard.” I slap my computer shut. “Do you really think you can hack into his Gmail? That’s probably where the idiot does all his dirty work.”
She nods. “My guy Tony, he’s the best. And he’ll get us a lot more than emails.”
I open my computer again. “When your guy starts delivering the goods, let me know. Based on what we uncover, we’ll need to revise our presentation, too. If we’re lucky, and work all night, tomorrow we’ll nail his ass to the wall.”
Dina gives me a side eye. “How? We’re uninvited. We can’t just get on the bus and make them take us.”
“I know, but I’m not some hapless tourist who needs a chartered bus to get where I’m going. You get me the information, I’ll take care of the rest.”
She yawns and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I’ll order coffee. It’ll be a long night. Tony will send stuff in, but we need to double verify everything before we rely on it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“This is my job. And he’s my favorite kind of liar to expose—smug, privileged, mediocre. He’ll be as easy as cracking an egg.” Relish lights her eyes. Her smile is as sharp as a machete.
“I almost feel sorry for George.”
“He’s earned everything he’s going to get today.”
I laugh. “Easy, killer.”
“Not until he’s begging us for mercy.”
“Do you really think we can pull this off?”
“We’re The Daredevil and The Hunter. Who can possibly defeat us?” She cackles with relish. “God, I’m vicious.” She’s grinning as she turns back to her work. But I can’t look away. She is vicious. And I think I love it.
14
Fool Me Twice
Dina
“Open your email, I’ve sent you a little something,” Tony, my Irish hacker, says when I answer his Skype call.
“You’re kidding.”
“I never kid when I’m charging three times my hourly rate and deliver exactly what my favorite client needs.”
I laugh for the first time in what feels like days and open my email.
“My God, there are hundreds of documents.” I grin like a loon as I scroll through.
My grin only widens as I start reading what he sent. Oh, I’ve got him. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” I croon to the files on my screen.
“Wish I could say the same. You look like you haven’t slept a wink,” Tony quips.
I flash him the finger. “Because I haven’t.”
Tyson strolls back into the room. He finished the report and went to catch a few minutes of sleep and get ready. Freshly showered, shaved, and dressed in crisp dark blue slacks and a blue dress shirt that’s open at the throat, he doesn’t look like he spent all night working. I don’t want to imagine what I must look like.
“Okay, Tony, gotta go. Thanks for the assist. I owe you.”
“Well, happy to help. What you’ve got is plenty, but I’ll send whatever else I find.”
“I owe you a steak dinner next time you’re in Texas.”
“As if that’s ever happening, it’s too bloody hot. But next time you’re in Belfast, I’ll be happy to let you buy me dinner. I just hit send. Hope you nail this bastard’s balls to the wall.”
I laugh. “Thanks to you, we might just have a chance. Bye.” I put the phone down and glance up at Tyson.
“He came through?” he asks.
“Yes. I was just opening the file, and we need to review and organize it. But I can give you the gist.”
He sits forward, rests his hands on his knees, and nods. “Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”
I hand him my laptop while I give him the CliffsNotes version. “George Dupont the Third is in debt up to his eyeballs to an Irish businessman by the name of Liam McWorrell. McWorrel owns a chain of cinemas, mini golf courses, cleaning services, you name it. Anything where the wages are low and you can pay people under the table, he does it. He’s also an investor. He loaned George ten million dollars for an investment in a hotel in the Maldives. The hotel is already bankrupt, and George is in more dire straits. The only real asset he has is Dupont. And he’s basically promised the Irishman that he’ll clear the decks of all other serious contenders so that he can purchase the business for less than it appears to be worth but for enough of a margin to pay off what George owes him.”
“You’re joking. He can’t be that stupid.”
“Oh, he is. And in here somewhere is evidence of the money he was embezzling on a monthly basis from Dupont to keep up his lavish lifestyle.”
“You have proof?”
“Yes.” I glance down at my watch. “It’s almost 5 a.m. Do you have a ride? If you don’t leave by 7, you won’t beat them there.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got that covered. We’ll be there before his bus even leaves the hotel.”
“How…Wait, we? You want me to come with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But my cover is blown. Mr. Dupont knows who I am.”
Tyson shakes his head. “He just thinks he does. We’re going to re-educate him on more than just his son today.”
“Are you sure? I mean, we have the goods, but we still have to close the deal.”
“Absolutely. Now give me what you’ve got, and I’m going to go through it. We’re leaving here at 7:30. Maybe catch a little sleep.”
I’m too tired to pretend otherwise. “Okay, I’ll be meet you back here by twenty past seven.”
“Sounds good.”
I lift my exhausted body from the chair and walk into the bedroom.
“Dina,” he calls, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. I know what he’s going to say from the look on his face. “About yesterday—”
I shake my head wearily. “We both said things we wish we could take back. I know it. You know it. I know we need to talk. But let’s save our asses before we tackle anything else, okay?”
“Okay, you’re right.”
He glances down at his laptop and frowns. He was working all night on revising the presentation, but I have no idea how.
“Aren’t you worried about how Mr. Dupont will respond when you tell him his son’s been cheating him?”
Tyson’s expression turns sinister at the mention of George. “No. And I’m not worried about him knowing what you do for us. I may not be the politician my mother is, but I am a damn good salesman. When we’re done, he’ll be thanking us. And thanks to your impeccable and lightning speed work, he’ll be convinced.”
“You sound so sure.”
“Only because I am. Like you said, who can possibly defeat us?”
He winks and turns back to his work. I know he meant to use my words as the same rhetorical rallying cry it sounded like four hours ago when I was running on the adrenaline of my anger and vindication about my instincts. Now as the sun is starting to rise, and I’ve passed the baton to Tyson, my mind is slowing down and taking stock of what happened yesterday.