Financial. Cutting Aria Tech’s ties with Fox Industries will already have a detrimental effect on his finances. Fox Industries is their largest contract and if Dagen is to be believed, he’s already pulled out of Aria Tech completely. Ric is the COO. The CEO won’t be pleased when Dagen sites Ric as a reason for pulling and there’s a strong chance, he’ll lose his place in the company, or at the very least, his respect. We’ll have to somehow make sure he can’t get a job with another company and that he can’t continue to shop around the program to other prospects. We’ll have to cut him off at the knees. I’m not sure what else we can do short of stealing the money he hoards. I don’t actually know how many accounts he has. I do know he has more money than he ever let me know about. I was only given a meager amount to cover groceries for me and Elsie.
Social. Ric moves in large circles and in too many to count. We’ll have to ruin his reputation to cut his ties to all the distinct groups. The police contact is the first one we need to tackle, so that I’ll actually be able to use the law if needed. He has friends in high places, and we need to take him down a peg when it comes to them. I suspect Dagen will have some ideas about this as he’s more prominent than anyone Ric likely knows. I can’t say I’ve met many of the people Ric socializes with. I was kept out of the limelight because he said I embarrassed him. That only came about when I’d given birth to Elsie. Apparently, having stretch marks and a little more cushion made me “embarrassing”. I know now that it’s not true, but at the time, it had destroyed my confidence and I developed an unhealthy relationship with exercising. I’ve clawed that confidence back since I’ve left and managed to stop pushing myself so hard on cardio. My body is just shaped like this and that’s okay.
And finally, physical. I have absolutely no idea how to take Ric down physically. My best running idea is switching out his shampoo with Nair. He loves his hair, spends so much time on it in the morning. Nair would be pretty funny, but that feels a little elementary. That can’t be the best idea I come up with. Hopefully, this team Dagen assembles will have some ideas.
A car arrives at my house to pick me up and takes me across town to an expensive restaurant I’ve never been to before. I certainly wouldn’t have ever come to this place myself. It seems like the kind of place with ten courses, small portions, and where you’ll probably leave still hungry and significantly poorer. When I step inside, the hostess is dressed in expensive clothing, her perfectly painted lips tipping up in a smile when she takes me in, but there’s a tightness near her eyes that tells me I still haven’t dressed appropriately. My confidence takes a bit of a hit, but I don’t let it show. I’m not here for a fashion show.
“Can I help you?” she asks tersely.
“Yes. I’m meeting Dagen Fox?—”
“Oh! Absolutely,” she gushes, immediately switching her facial expression to one of eager happiness. “Right this way, Ms. Hutcherson. Please forgive me for not recognizing you sooner.”
I blink. “It’s. . . okay,” I answer, not sure what I’m expected to say. I follow her into the larger section of the restaurant filled with moody lighting and rich people. Plenty of eyes glance toward me in curiosity, but as I’m led through the room and into the back, they dismiss me. The hostess brings me to a private room that’s set up with a large round table. When I step inside, two men turn toward me, but only one of them is someone I recognize.
“Oh, good,” Dagen says. “Always on time. I like that about you.” He stands and comes over to pull out the third chair for me. “Ava, I’d like you meet some associates of mine.” As he gestures over to the other man, my eyes catch on the standing robotic screen near him. The screen is filled with static, but within the static, a face moves, and I blink in surprise. The robot screen tilts, clearly controlled by an outside source.
As I take a seat and he helps push my chair in, my eyes glance between the other ridiculously beautiful man sitting at the table before me and the strange robotic face.
Twelve
Ava
“It’s nice to meet you,” I nod to the man and the. . . robot screen. “I’m Ava.”
Dagen gestures to the robot screen first, completely bypassing the man. “Otto?”
The mask within the static moves, giving it a 3D rendered appearance that’s almost creepy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” a voice says from the static. “You can call me Otto.”
“Just Otto?” I ask, frowning. “What exactly do you do?”
“Otto is a hacker,” Dagen says when he takes his own seat again. “You may have heard of him by his handle, OTTO_BOT. I should?—”
“Shut up!” I say, my eyes widening. “You’re OTTO_BOT?”
The mask moves and I almost think he’d be blushing if I were able to see his face. As it is, I can’t see anything at all. His identity is completely hidden by the mask and the static. “Yeah,” he answers. The single word has a timidness to it, strangely.
“I’ve legit heard so much about you! The Department of Defense hack? Where you made the image of the president dancing the tango with the Secretary of Defense during the presidential address as a protest of war? That was gold!” I gush, smiling brightly. When Dagen had said he had connections, I never assumed it would be such a high profile and highly wanted hacker. Of course, it shouldn’t surprise me. Fox Industries is the most successful security company in the world right now. It would make sense for him to be in contact with a world-renowned hacker.
“It’s nothing really,” Otto replies. “Just some back doors they forgot to close.”
“As you’ll find, Otto is very humble,” Dagen says. “And also very anonymous for good reason. No matter what you tell him about his success, he won’t believe it. Trust me, I’ve tried.” There’s laughter in his eyes that tells me he genuinely likes the mysterious man that clearly neither one of us are going to meet in person. The robot tablet is a nice touch though. When Dagen turns to the other man, that fondness dies and I get the feeling he’s less impressed by this one. “Our other associate is Wylan Hearst.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hearst.”
I hold my hand across the table to shake his, grateful that at least he’s not a robot. He looks at my hand for a second before standing and leaning over, his hand sliding into mine. Instead of shaking it, however, he turns my hand and kisses my knuckles, his eyes meeting mine and making my stomach flip. Oh, wow.
“Just Wylan, love,” he replies in a posh British accent. “Mr. Hearst is my father, and he’s a right wanker.”
“Oh! You’re from England,” I say stupidly. He flashes his teeth at my words but doesn’t call out my uncreative response. “What do you do, Wylan?”
“I thought you’d never ask, love,” he purrs. He leans in and whispers, “I’m a hitman.”
“A. . . what?” I gasp, looking sharply at Dagen. “I don’t want to kill him!”
Wylan tenses and scowls over at Dagen. “You said you needed me for a hit, Foxxie.”
“Of a sort,” Dagen answers, waving away his words. “You’re being paid heavily to be here. What I need you to do is irrelevant.”
