Henri looked up from his desk, his expression shifting from surprise to wariness. “Ares. I’m busy?—”
“Marcus Talbor,” I said. “Tell me about him.”
“Who?”
“Don’t.” I closed the door behind me. “You’re many things, Henri, but you’re not stupid. Marcus Talbor. Front desk employee. Fake identity. Professional operative. This is the same man who has been sabotaging our hotel for months. Tell me what you know.”
Henri’s face went carefully blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because I find it fascinating that Marcus showed up six months ago—right around the time we discovered the money laundering. I find it interesting that every security breach, every incident, every manufactured crisis traces back to him. And Ifind it especially interesting that today—the day before our gala—he serves Tashi with a lawsuit designed to maximize damage to our reputations.”
“If one of our employees filed a legitimate complaint?—”
“There’s nothing legitimate about it.” I leaned on his desk. “But you already know that. Your takeover was too convenient, but that’s because you’re part of this. You and whoever else is pulling the strings. Tell me, exactly when did you decide to destroy your best friends and business partners of seventeen years?”
Henri’s jaw tightened. “You’re paranoid.”
“That’s weak, even for you, Henri.”
“Get out of my office.”
I straightened my body. “It’s not your office. You’re just keeping the seat warm until we take back what’s ours.”
“Leave now, or I will call security to remove you.”
“You sold us out. What’s the endgame, Henri? What happens if the lawsuit doesn’t work? If we win at the hearing?”
“You’re delusional.”
But the harsh expression on his face told me that Henri, or whoever he was working with, had more in store for us if we didn’t walk away.
“You betrayed us. And I’m not the forgiving type. I’ll dig until I find out what you’ve done and with whom. And then, well—” I spread out my hands. “You’ll have nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You’ll never get control of this hotel again. It would be best for you to walk away now.”
“Not happening.”
“Then it’s your funeral,” he said coldly.
The way he said it made me think he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But I wasn’t backing down.
I pointed my finger at him and clicked my tongue. “Later, Henri.”
While I walked from the office, I thought about the gala tomorrow night and Tashi standing on that stage, vulnerable and exposed, making herself the most visible target imaginable. It would be easy for someone with a spy’s training to turn a celebration into tragedy.
I called Neville. “Marcus is planning something for tomorrow night. Something violent. I need his location now.”
“I’ve been tracking his phone. He’s at a warehouse in North Las Vegas. Industrial district, mostly abandoned buildings.”
“Send me the address. And call LVPD—tell them we have a credible threat against hotel executives, and we need backup.”
“Ares, you can’t go after him alone?—”
“I’m not planning to arrest him. I’m planning to make sure he can’t hurt anyone tomorrow night.”
“That’s not?—”
“Send me the address, Neville.”
