I had intended to put a bit of shiver in her spine. Clearly, I’d succeeded. Now it was time to become a beacon of hope. “My background is in the law enforcement field, working at the federal level. I’ve seen him in action, and I’ve read his biography. He’s a pro. A very high-end pro, which means he’s working for people with considerable resources. For you to be safe, we need to identify them.”
Emma considered my words while she dipped her tea bag. Far more than was necessary. “What do you want me to do?”
“This guy works using sophisticated cons. If he targets you, he’ll likely approach with a friendly offer. When that happens, we want you to play along, then let us know immediately.”
“So you can set a trap?”
“Exactly.”
“You said he’ll likely approach. What if he skips the con? What if he just plucks me off the street, plunges a needle into my flesh, and pulls me into a van?”
“Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. And in any case, the police will be no help with that. They don’t provide personal protection, and I’m guessing you’re not in the position to hire a bodyguard.”
Emma nodded grimly.
We sipped tea while the Durango day trader processed how much her life had changed since she answered the door. Eventually, she said, “Show me his picture.”
“It’s best if you don’t know what he looks like. He’ll sense it if you recognize him, and then he’ll disappear.”
“In which case I’ll be safe.”
“Dead is more likely. At that point you become a witness.”
Emma blanched and her mug began to shake.
“Forgive the blunt talk,” Skylar said. “It’s for your own good. You know everything you need to know to defend yourself. Be extra wary of strangers and special offers, and let us know immediately if you’re approached.”
“But now I can’t help but react, even if I don’t know what he looks like.”
“To him, you’ll appear skeptical and wary,” I said. “That’s perfectly normal. It’s different from facial recognition.”
Like the others, Emma maintained her calm and kept a cool head. I attributed their demeanor to a combination of intelligence and the reassuring expression on their twin’s face. “Should I buy pepper spray? Or one of those electric-shock things?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Neither would do you any good. Nor would a gun for that matter. This guy is too good for you to beat him in any kind of combat. Now that you’ve been forewarned, you’ll win using your mind.”
“So what do I tell him?”
“Just play along,” Skylar said. “With me, he made an offer and gave me a day to think. It was a very soft pitch, and in retrospect, very disarming.”
“Once people find something that works, they tend to repeat it. That’s especially true with high-risk operations,” I added.
Emma’s expression hardened and I saw resolve reflected in her eyes. “So while I’m ‘thinking about’ his proposal, I call you.”
As she made air quotes, my phone began vibrating. I checked the display. “It’s one of your other twins, Sandy Wallace, calling from Miami.”
51
No Problem
TORY DID NOT LIKE the way Sandy Wallace reacted to his proposal. Surely most chefs who didn’t own equity in their restaurant would jump at the opportunity to double their salary. But her feet remained firmly fixed to the ground.
When he intercepted Sandy in the employee parking lot at Café Au Lait, he hadn’t just waved more money. He’d offered to move her out of a hot and crowded kitchen where she made a couple of hundred meals a night onto a yacht where she’d rarely cook for more than a dozen. Not to mention that she’d be off as many nights as she was on, and the scenery would be constantly changing.
He would have understood if she had been in a serious relationship or had just bought a new house, but as far as he could tell, she wasn’t attached to Miami in any significant way. Not historically, not financially, not emotionally. She’d grown up in South Carolina and studied in Atlanta.
Sandy had not blown him off. In fact, she’d voiced interest, but there was something behind her eyes. Not just the tinge of suspicion you’d expect, but also a hint of fear. Tory wondered, was it once bitten, twice shy he was seeing? Had she been burned by a bogus job offer before? Or was there something more? Was it possible that Zachary Chase had anticipated his move and warned her? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible. Back in Finland, Tory had made a career out of anticipating the Russians’ unlikely moves and defending against them.
That’s what he would do now.
He didn’t want to bail on Sandy. She was the best fit of the remaining candidates, and the quickest solution.
Aria was screaming for a quick solution.
He’d just have to take precautions. Work his own counterintelligence. Set his own traps. This was nothing new for him, and in fact he rather enjoyed it, but it was time consuming.
Tory spent the night thinking about the situation. He researched tactics and reviewed alternatives while drinking Japanese green tea. Then he thought it all through again while practicing tai chi.
The next morning, during his preparations to trap Sandy and satisfy Aria, a new alternative presented itself with a bing. Literally. A fresh Facebook account triggered the facial recognition search he had running in the background. He put his analysis of the Miami Beach Marina’s website on hold in order to check her out.
At first glance, the new candidate looked promising. The right face, the right build, and a recent transplant to boot. Unfortunately, she had not submitted any contact information. No phone, no address, no email, not even a full last name. However, Jenny J. was right here in Miami.
He stared at her picture. She had the Aria look. Healthy skin, an athletic physique, and the Snow White nose atop a Scandinavian bone structure. He would definitely keep Jenny J. in mind if Sandy turned sour.
Speaking of which, it was time for that call.
“Sandy, this is Tom. We spoke yesterday in the parking lot.”
“Yes, hello.” She sounded much less wary today. Her voice seemed deeper and more relaxed.
“Something’s come up that’s added urgency to my search for a replacement chef. I need to know if you’re potentially interested?”
“Absolutely. Sorry if I was less than fully enthusiastic yesterday. You caught me on the heels of some disturbing personal news, so I was a little off-kilter. I’d love to learn more.”
Taken at face value, that was good news. Unless the personal matter involved a new relationship. Tory couldn’t ask about that now, though. Tomorrow he’d delve deeper. “Excellent! Well, as I mentioned, something’s come up. The Sassones need to sail for Saint Bart’s this Friday. So we’d like to have you out to the Grey Poupon tomorrow morning to meet them and perhaps cook a couple of omelets.”
“Omelets?”
Tory had discovered that the key to effective cons was to provide bits of emotion-driven detail. The little things that helped the mark picture the people inhabiting the fictitious world he was selling. “Mrs. Sassone has it on authority that you can tell all you need to know about a chef from how she works with eggs. I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”
“Very kind of you.”
“It’s in my interest to see you succeed.” And I like the idea of having you cook me breakfast.
“Should I bring ingredients, or will there be eggs on hand?”
“I was going to say that everything will be provided, but come to think of it, I guess we’ll garner additional information from your selections. Thanks for offering.”