I believed it, having watched the Finnish freelancer work in Williamsburg.
Skylar started walking down the dock.
I returned to the helm and immediately pulled away. I didn’t want to linger where we could be overheard if Tory started to scream. “Testing, testing.”
“I hear you fine,” Skylar said, glancing back. “We did it!”
“We don’t know that yet. It remains to be seen how much he knows. But in any case, you were amazing.”
“It feels fantastic, like I’ve been freed from a great weight. Now that I’ve beaten the man who bested me, I’m ready to become my old self again. My old self before the accident.” Her tone was absolutely exuberant. “I can hardly believe that I just pulled off a sophisticated covert operation. With your help, of course.”
I knew the feeling. “You were fantastic. You’re a natural. But please put that elation aside for now and focus on the task at hand. A lot could still go wrong.”
“Roger that.”
“Seriously, Skylar. Ops are often blown because agents think they’re already home.”
“Got it,” she said. Her voice an octave lower.
I killed the yacht’s engine. We were far enough from the marina. “I’m going back below deck to keep an eye on our man. Please talk to me about what’s going on.”
Skylar did. The valet. The elevator. The five-star executive suite view. The laptop. The toiletries. The search for anything hidden.
She packed all the personal items into Tory’s roller bag, and stepped back onto the dock forty minutes after stepping off.
I picked her up and pulled offshore again. Not too far. I needed cell reception to set up a hotspot for Tory’s computer.
Before beginning the interrogation, I wanted to search the roller bag. With Skylar watching, I placed the black Travelpro onto the drink table behind the captain’s chair and pulled the laptop from its front pocket. Setting the computer aside, I unzipped the main compartment and then went straight for the zippered pockets on the sides. “Bingo!”
“What is it?”
I extracted three items. “My phone, watch, and gun.”
“Congratulations.”
I set them aside and continued rummaging. I didn’t find my car key, and it wasn’t until I unzipped the inner pocket of Tory’s toiletry bag that I found anything interesting beyond the owner’s Glock 19 and lock blade knife. But it was very interesting. Three prefilled syringes. Either an anesthetic or an antipsychotic, I would guess. Probably the latter, given the relatively small size. “Did you check the minibar refrigerator? See any vials?”
“Nothing there but overpriced booze.”
“I bet this is his knockout concoction. The one he used on you.”
Skylar grimaced.
I set the syringes aside and searched for hidden compartments. I found none.
Satisfied that I’d gleaned all available information from Tory’s belongings, I picked up the laptop and led Skylar below deck. I set the computer on the dining table, sliced Tory’s hog-tie restraint with his own lock blade knife, and hoisted him onto the bench seat, wrists and ankles still bound. “Scooch to the corner and we’ll get started.”
Tory complied.
“We’ll start with the password for your computer.”
“Fly_Eagle-Owls_Fly. With first-letter caps, underlines between words, and a hyphen after Eagle.”
There were so many ways this could go wrong.
I walked to the galley and grabbed a teaspoon from a drawer. Turning to Tory, I thumped it on my open palm and said, “I’ve agreed to go down the path you selected. But if you deviate, my reaction will be extreme. If this password erases your computer, I’m going to pop out your good eye.”
“What, no forks?”
I simply stared.
“It’s a cheer for the Finnish football team.”
Ironically, Tory’s handicap also disabled me. I couldn’t read his face. Not his expressions, not his eyes. That increased my need to rely on logic and threats. I gave the spoon a final thump. “You’ve been warned.”
I slid around the bench seat until I was sitting close enough to Tory to sense his reactions. Skylar stood where she could see his face.
I typed in the cheer.
The computer unlocked.
I positioned the laptop so Tory could see the screen.
Skylar slid in beside me so she could watch as well. I didn’t like being boxed in that way, but with Tory bound and chained I decided not to exclude Skylar. She deserved a seat at the table.
I navigated to Recent Documents. There were ten folders in active use. One called Admin, the other nine designated with first names. Allison, Aria, Camilla, David, Eric, Felix, Lisa, Pierce, and Ries. On a hunch, I used command-space to search for “Lars.” The Mac rewarded me with a file nested under David. I clicked it open and was greeted by my college roommate’s charismatic face. The file included his picture taken from multiple angles, his biography in great detail, and multiple screens’ worth of notes and linked article clippings.
I clicked back out to the parent file named David. The man pictured there was the one I had seen impersonating Lars at his apartment. The man who drove a BMW i8.
“You have nine clients?” I asked.
“A month ago I did. Only six are still alive. Either they’re a very unlucky group, or someone has been killing them off.”
59
Tough Call
WITH THE VISION in his right eye now clear, although constricted, Tory studied the opponents seated to his left. Chase had the look of an agent. Clean-cut and athletic. A far cry from the leather-clad scruffy-faced motorcyclist Tory had first glimpsed in California. He wondered if Chase had been undercover. In any case, he was working alone now. Or rather, with a washed-out athlete rather than with fellow officers.
Both his captors were sitting within striking distance. That was bad tradecraft, even with Tory’s wrists tied. He hoped the mistakes would continue.
Of course, they’d already made the big one, consenting to his proposal. By agreeing to forgo torture as a means of extracting information, they had shown their true colors, their humanitarian stripes. Now he had the advantage, and they didn’t know it.
Chase began opening the other eight named files. Skylar gasped when Aria’s face appeared. The woman did look like her. And sure enough, nested inside were folders labeled, Skylar, Sandy, Amy, and Jenny J.
Chase finally turned his attention back to Tory. “Why didn’t Aria turn up when we searched for Skylar’s lookalikes?”
“None of my clients show up in searches,” Tory said, struggling to show his superiority by speaking normally. “Clearly, they’ve worked hard to avoid and eliminate electronic fingerprints. But I don’t know how, and I don’t know why.”
“All nine?” Chase asked.
“All nine.”
“And who are they?” Skylar asked.
“I wish I knew. It would be worth a lot of money to me to figure that out, so I’ve tried.”
“Blackmail?” Chase asked.
“They have money, lots of money, and secrets worth killing for.” Tory could see that Chase believed him, but Skylar was still skeptical. The naïveté of one unfamiliar with his world.
“What do they have in common?” she asked.
“You’ve now seen the same pictures I’ve seen. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“How do you contact them?” Chase asked.
“I work exclusively with Felix. We chat using Darknet services routed over a dedicated phone.”
“On one of the phones I found in your pocket?” Chase asked while opening the Felix folder.
“Yes. The generic one. They gave it to me. Each of the nine has a matching device. They’re VoIP-based, and specially programmed to go through a Darknet relay in Dallas. Untraceable. Feel free to try.”
“Your payment?” Chase pressed.
“My fees are paid from an offshore shell corporation to an offshore shell corporation. For expenses I have a platinum Amex linked to a Delaware shell company, which is funded by the same offshore shell corp that pays me.