The great irony is I’m the client.I’m the one she’s technically working for.She’s also the reason I haven’t fired Eddie, locked down The Sanctuary, and walked away.Well, that—and I do owe the senator enough to at least give them a chance to trace the blackmailer.
Still, the more I replay what Brie’s told me, the clearer it becomes: her organization cares more about exposing whoever trades secrets than the ones buying them.When I discussed this with the senator this morning during his brief visit to my office, he said he believes finding both is of great importance.Although given the threats he’s receiving—or more specifically, what action they want him to take—he’s narrowed the pool of culprits, at least for his extortion.
It’s a mad world, and all I can picture is that gun—weight and chill.
I reach for the phone again—habit, not logic.The day’s almost gone and silence hums louder than any ringtone.But I’m not powerless.I click on contacts and press send.
The line rings twice.
“This is Hudson.”
“Adrien d’Avricourt.”My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Hi Adrien, what can I do for you?”
“Calling for a project update.”I don’t add that I’m really calling to make sure she’s breathing.“The senator stopped by this morning.Seems he’s narrowed his list of suspects.”
“He has ideas, but ideas alone won’t win an indictment, or even a search warrant.”
“How close are you to catching them?”
Hudson’s pause stretches long enough that I wonder if we’ve lost connection.
“Each threat narrows the field,” he says.“But we’re not there yet.”
“And when can I start cleaning house?”I pointedly avoid saying Eddie’s name with the door closed and voices in the hallway.
“We’re close,” he says.“By the way—do you know where Thorne went this afternoon?”
That gets my attention.“I assume he’s here.”
“Is it unusual for him to leave during the day?”
I tap my fingers against the desk; aware that I don’t actually know, as he’s a senior staff member.“I’m not a micromanager.Our hours are non-traditional.Employees don’t alert me if they step out for errands or whatnot.”
So Eddie’s gone.And if he’s gone, maybe Brie’s following.My stomach knots.
“Why?”
“He was last seen outside Penn Station.”
“And?”Surely there’s more to that statement.
“The project update.We are making headway.We’ve found more on Moira Kelly.Intelligence suggests she’s part of Magpie, a group that came into existence in the late nineties.A business built around selling secrets.She’s a former CIA psychological expert who went private; she might actually be the head of the organization.”
“I recognized her.She’s a regular during fashion week.Museum showings.”
“She presents as a wealthy widow who spends most of her time in Europe,” Hudson says.
That matches up with what I recall.Not necessarily the widow part, but she definitely comes across as high net worth and well-connected.
“And I presume she recruits sources?”
“We’re still working on how her business functions.”
“So you still need me to keep…” I pause, looking to the closed walnut door, and lower my voice, “The subject employed?”
“Actually, no.Proceed as you wish.”
