With that, she got up from the table and went to fetch more coffee.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Terrance King sat at the table in Benson Security’s interrogation room. Or, as they told anyone who asked, their basement interview room. Whatever they called it didn’t change the fact that this room was soundproofed, installed with cameras and a one-way mirror, and only opened from the outside. The table and chairs were bolted to the floors and the only way out was through one of the Benson Security staff.
Adjacent to this was a surveillance room. Which was currently overflowing with testosterone and badass attitude. On hearing about Rachel’s past, it seemed the men of Benson Security had all decided to take over her life. Apparently, she wasn’t even needed in the discussion on how best to approach Terrance King’s interrogation.
The longer the men argued, the more Rachel eyed up the weapons storeroom and wondered how quickly she could tase them all and shut them up. Hell, she doubted they’d even notice she was missing until they were suddenly jolted with enough electricity to reboot their Neanderthal brains.
“I’ll talk to him,” Lake Benson said with absolute authority.
The former special forces officer, who’d started the company that bore his name, faced off against the rest of his team. He’d been in London, helping out on another Benson Security job, and for some reason, as soon as he’d heard about her past, he’d decided to postpone his return trip to Scotland and stick around to “help.” Rachel had no idea why.
“To hell with that,” Callum McKay, her other partner, snapped back. “The London office is mine. You put me in charge when you dragged me into this business. Now get out of my way and let me do my bloody job.”
“I think,” Harry piped up, taking his life into his hands by getting between two former SAS men, “that I should talk to him. I’m the one who found out he’s involved.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryan demanded. “You aren’t even part of Benson Security anymore. You sold your stake. I’m the one who should interrogate him. I know him best because I’ve been stuck working with his arrogant arse for weeks. He’ll let down his guard with me.”
Joe Barone and Noah Merchant, two of Harvard’s childhood friends, started talking at the same time.
“I’m an ex-cop,” Noah said. “I spent my career interrogating suspects. Trust me, you want me in there.”
“I just want to punch him until he talks.” Joe glared through the glass of the one-way mirror, to where Terrance sat relaxed in his chair.
Harvard, who’d been silently leaning against the far wall during the discussion, his arms folded and ankles crossed, flashed a smile at Joe before catching Rachel’s eye. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she jerked her head toward the door. When he nodded once, Rachel slipped outside. If anyone noticed her leaving, they said nothing.
A few seconds later, Harvard stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to go in there and tell him what happened to the drug he stole. And I want you standing behind me looking scary while I do it.”
He nodded. “Then lead the way.”
Grateful that he hadn’t asked her if she was up to the task, Rachel punched in the code to open the interrogation room door and stepped inside. She had to fight the urge to grin at the mirror, where no doubt all the men on the other side stood with their mouths hanging open. At least this would have shut them up.
“Terrance,” Rachel said as she took a seat opposite him, “I’d like to tell you something.”
He shot a wary glance at Harvard before glaring at her. “I hope you’re going to tell me why the hell you’ve got me locked up in here. I thought I was coming in for a team meeting. To discuss the thefts. You’d better not be planning to pin this on me. I’m no thief.” He practically spat out the last word.
“Well”—Rachel crossed her legs—“that isn’t exactly true, is it? I mean, we suspect you have nothing to do with the current spate of thefts. But you’re very much responsible for the ketamine and Rohypnol that went missing ten years ago, aren’t you, Terrance?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he paled under his fake tan. Although, it was hard to tell. That tan was very orange.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he protested. “Let me out of here at once. This setup is illegal. I’ll have the Metropolitan Police down on you lot before you can snap your fingers.”
“Good.” She folded her arms and drummed her red fingernails against the white of her sweater. “While you’re at it, you can explain to them why you stole date rape drugs from TayFor and then tried to cover your tracks by deleting all record of your presence in the research facility on the day the drugs went missing.”
“I see what this is.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “You’re trying to pin an old crime on me in the hopes that people will think I’m behind the new thefts too. This is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to protect your family. This is amateur hour; you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Or who you’re trying to do it to. I have connections. You won’t get away with this. You know nothing. It’s all lies.”
“We’ll see. In the meantime, let me tell you all the nothing that I know and see if we can’t change your mind.” She poured every bit of contempt she felt for him into her gaze and watched him shift in his seat.
He glanced over at Harvard, who leaned against the wall beside the door, looking to all the world as though he was perfectly relaxed. But Rachel knew that if Terrance tried anything physical, Harvard would be on him within seconds.
“Ten years ago, you had an affair with a teenager.” When Terrance started to object, she held up a hand. “I have photos.” He clamped his lips shut. “And so did the blackmailer. Because there was a blackmailer, wasn’t there, Terrance? Someone with inside knowledge who knew you’d get the job at TayFor and asked you to do one small thing for them. All you had to do was sneak into the drug lockup and take a vial. They probably told you that no one would even notice it was missing.”
She stopped drumming her fingers and focused on him. “But someone did, didn’t they? And you knew they would; that’s why you tried to wipe the evidence from the server.”
“That’s rubbish,” he exploded. Harvard tensed and took a step away from the wall. Swallowing hard, Terrance sat back in his seat, clearly aware of just how much of a threat the American posed to him. “It’s all rubbish,” he said. “If this person worked at TayFor, they could have stolen their own damn drugs. Why use me?”
“To muddy the trail? To hide behind you? To ensure that, if someone did discover the theft, you’d take the blame? Again”— Rachel cocked her head at him—“I have evidence. Have you heard of Harry Boyle?” She could tell by the way his eyes shifted that he had. “Yes, the security programmer who literally wrote the code the government uses. Well, he went through our servers and uncovered the mess you’d left behind. He was able to untangle it, which means we have proof you were in the building, in the locked storeroom, and that you tampered with the server.”