“It wasn’t soundproof, was it?”
“Cinderblock walls.Probably not technically soundproof, but he likely considers it a safer space to have a conversation than his office.”
“His office is in the building across the street, on the same hall as Adrien’s, right?”
“Yes, but it’s my understanding he doesn’t use that office much.”
“I suppose it makes sense.Plus, he splits his time between Miami and New York.”
“According to flight logs, about a quarter of his time is in Miami, but that’s mostly in January and February, with a few short trips the rest of the year.”
“Convenient schedule for someone running a side operation,” I murmur, scanning the file I’ve compiled on Thorne.“He’s got three kids.One daughter and two sons.Wonder what his wife thinks about his ‘travel’.He spends several days at The Sanctuary, too.”
“He’s probably not up for family man of the year.Think about where he works.”
She’s not wrong.And that’s another reason to support my decision to keep things professional with Adrien.Eddie works at The Sanctuary, but Adrien owns it.He’s surrounded by temptation constantly.His life has evolved since we spent a weekend together.As has mine.
Eddie’s on his phone, tapping away, not even using the computer.
“We have audio, right?”I ask.
“We do.But he hasn’t spoken to anyone.”
“Regardless, he’s involved.”
“If you trust d’Avricourt.”
“He’s not lying about this.It’s eating at him.”I study the man on screen.He’s got trimmed, dark hair, longer on top with a gelled flip near the brow, and a curved line, a partial tattoo, climbing from beneath his shirt collar up the nape of his neck.
“Long Island.Do you think he’s mafia?”
Everything on Eddie’s records looks legit.North Shore money or connected?He’s had steady employment for eighteen years, but a sex club that doubles as a high-end society club…a mafia connection feels likely.And those guys are some of the original extortionists.
“It’s possible.It’s a lot more challenging to draw those connections these days.”
“Why do you say that?”Quinn asks.
In the CIA, we had files on all the organized crime families the world over.“It’s not like they get together every Sunday for family dinner anymore.And crime has advanced.Organized crime isn’t limited to drugs or human trafficking these days.Plus, most organized criminal organizations derive a significant percentage of revenue from legitimate, legal business enterprises.”I bite the corner of my nail, watching the back of Eddie’s head.“I suppose he wouldn’t even have to be part of an organized crime family.He could be doing a favor for a cousin or something.”
“If he doesn’t do anything but sit there and mess with his phone, it’s going to take us a while to figure out who he’s working with.”
“Maybe,” I say, clicking my nails against the top of my desk.“We’re going to need to tail this guy.See where he goes when he leaves the club.”That familiar weight settles in my stomach—the recognition that we’re looking at weeks, not days.“If he’s selling the intel, we may not see him move until an order comes in.Shit.This could take a while.”
“There’s no action right now.Nothing for him to record.Maybe we’ll get a better sense of what he’s doing when there’s activity in the club.”
That’s true.The only thing we could possibly see him do on an off-day is bookkeeping.“On the bright side, he doesn’t seem suspicious that anyone’s been in his space.”
“No.But if he’s been doing this for years, then…we’d have to do something stupid like leave trash in the trash can.”
“Was there a trash can in that room?”I think back over the room.I remember it was clean…
“No.I’m just saying figuratively…”
“Yeah.Well, he’s not the only employee who knows about that room.One, he’s not a tech guy, so he didn’t install everything.And two, it’s clean.”
“Cleaning it doesn’t mean you know what it is you’re cleaning.”
“Do you think he’s working alone?”
