The timing. The panic. The sudden need to escape. I take it all in, calculating the probabilities and possible connections.
But I can’t get distracted by that right now. The auction is about to start, which means my window is about to open.
I move casually toward the edge of the ballroom, nodding to people as I go, then I slip into the service hallway when I’m sure no one’s looking.
The layout Omero provided shows offices on this floor. If the Russians are using the venue, they’re likely using one of those offices as a temporary base of operations.
I try three doors before I find one that’s locked with a security keypad.
Bingo.
The code Omero got from his inside source works, and I slip inside, closing the door quietly behind me.
It’s set up like a mobile command center. Laptops, files stacked neatly in piles, a wall of monitors showing various camera angles throughout the ballroom, entrance, and parking areas.
I move to the desk, pulling out my phone to photograph my findings. Transaction logs. Communication records. Financials.
My hands freeze on a folder titled Project Dragon— Emmanuel Cierro. I flip it open, my heart pounding in my chest. Dates, locations, personnel assigned. Then I find it, the smoking gun.
According to these logs, the Russians were in Moscow the week of the kidnapping. It’s all there, their entire alibi. Complete and airtight. Travel records. Hotel receipts. Security footage with timestamps.
They didn’t take Emmanuel. Someone else did. Someone set them up; someone wanted me to think they were the ones who took him.
Who else would benefit from me thinking the Russians took my son? Who would want to create a conflict of that level?
The Triad.
Delan Tao’s proposal had shown up right after Emmanuel was taken. He had ‘intelligence’ about the Russians’ plans. He’d pushed for this marriage alliance to ‘unite against the Russians’.
He set me up.
I hear the scratching of the doorhandle and I spin, ready to fight whoever it is. But to my utter surprise, it’s Chloe.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand in a harsh whisper.
“Same as you, apparently.” She moves to stand beside me, glancing down at the file on the desk. Her eyes scan the documents. “Find anything of use?”
I ignore her question. “How did you know I would be here?”
She looks at me then, amusement in her eyes. “Come no, Basili. I know you. You’re not the type to just attend a party and socialize just for fun.” She picks up the file. “You came here to look for answers.”
“Chloe —”
“The Russians didn’t take Emmanuel, did they?” She asks, reading the page I’d already looked over. Her face is pale. “They weren’t even near New York when it happened.”
“No. They weren’t.” I gather the documents, snapping pictures of each one before closing the file and setting it back where I’d found it. “Someone else took him and set the Russians up to take the fall.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “The Triad.”
“That’s my suspicion as well.”
“We need to leave.” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door. “If they figure out you’re here, if they realize you know —”
I follow her out, making sure the door locks behind us. Back in the hallway, I take Chloe by the arm lightly and lead the way. We make it back to the ballroom just as the auction is starting. Instantly, I scan the room, spotting Delan Tao watching us with those calculating eyes.
“We’re leaving,” I tell Chloe quietly.
She follows my gaze, and her body goes rigid just as it had before. “Good idea.”
