Authors: Sarah Alderson
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Maggie states drily.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. One word: Ricci.’
I press back into my chair, sucking in a breath. I shake my head even though she can’t see me. Man. She had to bring up Eleanor Ricci.
‘Nic’s a witness, Finn,’ Maggie says. ‘Hands off the witness. You know the rules. You already broke them once and look what happened.’
Like she needs to remind me. I’m not going to forget Eleanor Ricci as long as I live. I’m not going to stop regretting what I did either.
‘I know Nic’s your type, but steer clear.’
‘What do you mean –
my type
?’ I ask angrily.
‘Beautiful, smart, got that whole vulnerable-yet-tough thing going on, doesn’t take any of your crap or act in any way interested in you. That’s your catnip right
there.’
‘Just drop it OK? I don’t need a reminder or a warning. Are you going to update me or what?’ I say, trying to move the conversation on. ‘Any sign of Aiden
Cooper?’
Pleasantries over, Maggie switches into professional mode, which I’m fairly sure she learned from watching Claire Danes in
Homeland
. ‘No. None. He’s
vanished.’
‘Need some help?’ I ask, my fingers dashing over the keyboard. I installed a system which will alert me if his cards are used. Nothing’s come up so far. But a man like him
probably carries a few thousand in cash just in his wallet and he’d probably be able to pawn his watch too if it came to it. That could get him far enough but not for too long.
‘Nope,’ Maggie says. ‘Give us a few more hours. We’ll find him. He can’t have vanished off the face of the earth. We’re checking car rental companies, trains
and Greyhound. And there’s a team of agents checking CCTV. He got in a cab two blocks west of Nic’s apartment. Took it to Times Square. Taxi driver says he was agitated, gave him a
one-hundred dollar tip.’
I prop the phone against my shoulder so I can type two-handed. ‘Or maybe he wanted to make sure he was remembered.’
Maggie doesn’t say anything.
‘Times Square?’ I ask, pulling up a map of Manhattan. ‘Did he take the subway from there?’
‘Possibly. We’re checking.
‘Interesting choice. I mean Times Square, around ten p.m. That place is heaving. Easy to lose yourself in a crowd. What’s CCTV show?’
‘We picked him up on the corner of Broadway, then he vanishes.’
I run the scenarios in my head, factoring in this new info. There are three: he went somewhere willingly, he went somewhere unwillingly, or he’s had an accident. But I’ve searched
all the hospital databases for anyone having been brought in matching Aiden Cooper’s description, and nothing. Given the events of the night, I’m thinking he knew he was being pursued,
so he’s either vanished on purpose or he’s been captured for some as-yet unknown reason. I’m leaning towards the latter, as I’m not sure Aiden Cooper has the skills to evade
the FBI for this long without help.
‘You find anything in his emails?’ Maggie asks, interrupting my thoughts.
‘You getting anywhere with that subpoena?’ I fire back. ‘The man gets thousands of emails each week. I’m running a trace on any containing keywords.’
‘Such as?’
‘Anything involving money, anything that sounds threatening, any that contain images, you know the drill.’
‘You find anything yet?’
‘No. Not yet. Still looking.’ I ignore her sigh of impatience. ‘What about Hugo?’ I ask, knowing that Nic will want an update.
‘He’s still in a coma. They have two cops guarding him round the clock. I made sure of it.’
‘Good.’ Hugo could almost definitely give us a description of whoever shot him. Whoever is behind this will want to finish the job. ‘And how’s it going your end?’ I
ask. ‘Any closer to finding out who took the shot at your partner?’
‘No. We’re still waiting on the ballistics report. But I don’t think it will tell us much.’
‘Your boss believe your story?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah, I think so. I mean, you should see the bruise I gave myself. I needed stitches.’
‘No one can doubt your dedication to the cause.’
‘They gave me a new partner by the way,’ Maggie goes on. ‘This guy called Wise. He was the one at the safe house last night when we got there.’
‘Could he be involved?’ I ask.
‘Right now I’m not discounting anyone,’ Maggie says. ‘I’m just working my way through the suspects. All those who knew where we were going.’
‘And Miles and McCrory?’ I ask, because it would be good to know we’ve discounted those two, and so I can finally convince Nic of their innocence.
‘Yeah, that’s the weird thing, Finn,’ Maggie says. ‘We can’t find them either. We sent local police to pick them both up and neither of them were home and
haven’t been seen since yesterday morning.’
I lean forward, pushing Goz’s head off my lap and spin towards my other machine. ‘I pulled up his bank records – McCrory’s. He made a withdrawal in Anchorage at ten a.m.
yesterday. If he got from there to New York in the space of fifteen hours I’d be surprised.’
‘He could have flown.’
‘This guy hasn’t taken a flight in his life, other than in an air force carrier to Iraq and back. And he’s not showing up on any flight manifest from Alaska to anywhere on the
eastern seaboard.’
‘We’re prioritising them.’
‘Don’t. It’s not them.’
Maggie pauses. ‘OK, keep me updated,’ she finally says. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow morning.’
Just then I hear a sound like wet mud splatting against the ground. I spin in my chair. ‘Oh shit,’ I say jumping up.
‘What?’ Maggie shouts down the phone in alarm.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ I mutter. ‘The dog just crapped all over my floor. Look, I’ve got to go,’ I mumble.
‘Let it do its business in the house, Finn,’ Maggie yells before I can hang up. ‘OK? Do not let her take the dog outside. Don’t go anywhere.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, ‘gotta go.’ I hang up and stare at Goz, who is whining as he deposits another flood of crap all over my floor.
‘Shit,’ I say.
The bathroom door opens and Nic appears as though her entrance has been scripted. She’s wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair is wet and hanging loose over her shoulders. She sees the
expression on my face and her gaze drops to the steaming piles of poop and her guilt-faced, slobbering dog, then she looks up at me and shrugs. And I swear she’s trying not to smile.
There’s something uniquely satisfying about watching Finn’s face as he contemplates Goz’s little gifts. I can’t help but smile. But then the fumes hit
me.
‘You shouldn’t have fed him Thai chicken curry,’ I say, walking over to the kitchen. I grab a roll of tissue and throw it in Finn’s direction. He catches it in his left
hand then, shaking his head, he gets down on his knees muttering in disgust. ‘You not even going to help?’ he asks. ‘He’s your dog.’
I sigh. Even though I would love to stand and watch him clear up dog poo for the rest of eternity, I guess I had better give a hand.
When we’re done we both wash our hands and then Finn walks over to the windows, pulls aside the blind and cracks one open. Straightaway frigid, cold air rushes in. My wet hair clings to my
scalp and I get up and throw on my hooded sweater.
The door buzzes as I am pulling it on and I jump. Finn is already crossing to the door to check the monitor. He winces and presses his forehead to the brick wall, squeezing his eyes shut.
‘What?’ I ask, alarmed, my heart ramming itself against my ribs as though trying to break out of my chest.
He opens his eyes. ‘Nothing,’ he says quickly. ‘Just our delivery.’
I’m not sure why that should cause him to react in such a way but before I can ask he cracks open the door, just by a few inches, blocking the view of the hallway with his body.
A few seconds later I hear a girl’s voice, bright and breezy, calling, ‘Delivery!’
Finn mutters something I can’t catch. I edge closer. Over his shoulder I see a girl with long blonde hair, wearing a leather jacket and skin-tight jeans with stiletto boots.
‘Well,’ the girl says, ‘I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind some extras with your steak.’
‘Won’t they miss you?’ Finn asks.
‘Nope, Sandy’s covering. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
It suddenly becomes clear to me what’s going on. I must make a sound, a snort of disgust, because Finn jerks around, sees me standing behind him, and grimaces. He actually looks like a man
who’s been caught cheating. A mix of contradictory thoughts and feelings rushes through me; disgust that he thinks it’s OK to hook up with the delivery girl, annoyance that women seem
to just offer themselves up to him like hot slices of pizza, and embarrassment that clearly I’m getting in the way.
‘Oh,’ the girl suddenly says, spying me behind Finn. ‘I didn’t know you had company.’ She looks at Finn, her expression transforming in an instant. ‘Why
didn’t you say so?’ she asks with a smile so tight it looks like it’s been stitched into place.
‘I ordered steaks for three,’ Finn mutters uncomfortably.
‘You always order three steaks,’ she snaps back before recovering herself and handing him the bill with a cold stare.
Finn takes it and without even glancing at it he hands her four twenties. I back away and head towards the kitchen, letting Finn finish whatever awkward apology he needs to make.
By the time he comes over, he is slope-shouldered, his feet scuffing the floor. He sets the bags on the counter. ‘I haven’t slept with her,’ he announces.
I stop what I’m doing – laying out plates – and give him a look which I hope conveys that I don’t need an explanation and am not interested in hearing anything at all
about his love life.
‘She just works at my favourite steak house,’ he continues on, despite my look. ‘I had no idea she was going to deliver them in person. Usually they have a boy do it. She works
the door.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say, ‘I don’t need an explanation.’ I throw some cutlery down on the side, more aggressively than I would have liked. I mean, why the hell am I
annoyed about what he gets up to with the delivery girl?
Finn bites the inside of his cheek and stares at me, still looking pained, then he takes out the cartons and lays out two steaks – rare – salad and fries on our plates.
‘Best steak in town,’ he says, carrying both plates over to the table. ‘I even got one for Goz.’ He frowns as he says that, probably wondering if that’s such a good
idea, given the poo disaster with the curry.
‘I spoke to Maggie,’ he tells me when I sit down. ‘When you were in the shower.’
I look up.
‘There’s no news on your stepdad. Hugo’s still in intensive care.’
‘And Miles and McCrory?’ I ask.
He saws at his steak. ‘They’ve disappeared too,’ he finally admits.
I lay my knife and fork down, my steak untouched. ‘I told you.’
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ Finn says, twisting the cap off his juice.
My foot taps beneath the table.
‘What happens if we don’t find anything in my apartment?’
‘Then I keep looking through Aiden’s files until I find a link.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I follow it.’
I stare at him. How long are we going to be stuck together? I can’t do this.
‘It’s OK,’ Finn says. ‘I’m good at this. I’ve never not broken a case.’
‘How many cases have you broken?’ I ask not understanding what he means. Don’t cops
work
cases?
‘A few. I’ve been involved in over thirty murder cases in the last three years, some on the side with Maggie, and others where I’ve been privately contracted by families or
lawyers.’
I try to hide my surprise.
‘I’ve also worked with over twenty of the biggest corporations in the world,’ he continues, ‘helping them shore up their internet security against cyber-attacks. And
every time I’ve found the weak link. The fatal flaw.’
I stare at him in shock for a few seconds. He’s not much older than me, yet to hear him speak you’d think he was a seasoned cop twice his actual age.
‘How do you know Maggie?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence.
‘She was my mentor on the FBI internship programme,’ Finn answers in a flat voice.
‘Internship programme?’
He nods. ‘Yeah. For promising young undergrads. It was my final year at college.’
I frown at him. ‘How old are you?’ I ask. Doing a rough calculation in my head that would put him at around twenty-five, but he looks early twenties at most.
‘Twenty-two,’ he answers, spearing some steak.
I must look puzzled because he puts his knife and fork down. ‘I graduated high school when I was fourteen,’ he says as though it were no big deal. ‘I finished college before I
was eighteen. I was actually already working unofficially for the FBI and the NSA from when I was fourteen. They just couldn’t accept me officially on to the programme until I was in my
senior year.’
What is he? Some kind of prodigy? I pick up my glass of water and take a sip. I’m starting to see why Maggie brought me here.
‘So how come you didn’t go on to become an FBI agent then?’ I ask.
Finn clears his throat, picks up his knife and fork and stares down at his plate. ‘I never actually graduated from the programme,’ he mumbles. ‘So, I kind of blew my
chances.’
Huh. That’s interesting. I glance at the cube. Something to do with his shady internet dealings?
‘I would have graduated top of the class though,’ he adds quickly, seeing my look. ‘It wasn’t for lack of skill or ability.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ I say with a smile. ‘Lack of modesty perhaps?’
He grins at me. ‘No, let’s call it lack of common sense and leave it at that.’
I bite my tongue, interest thoroughly piqued now, and watch him as he cuts up his steak and feeds a piece to Goz.
Given what I’ve seen so far, I would have expected him to deliver all this news with a glowingly smug face, but there’s not a trace of arrogance there, no matter how hard I look for
it. In fact the thing that strikes me above all is the weariness in his eyes. It seems leagues deep and I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it before.