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“There is,” Echo says, straightening in his seat. “The works, right here, anchovies included …”
“Ugh, no thanks,” Secret says.
“Yeah, no. It smells gross. Shut the lid, please.” Leanne screws up her nose.
“The Alphas are hoarding the rest. You’ll need to steal from them.”
“Anything to avoid anchovies,” Leanne says, stepping away from our table.
“I told Seth to save you at least two slices of the ham and pineapple,” Ryan tells Secret.
“Ooh, that sounds good,” Leanne says.
Secret kisses Ryan and follows Leanne over to where our Alphas are eating.
Ryan looks at me. “Well?”
“Right this way,” I tell him, heading for the door into the main office.
I pick up the photocopied list and lead Ryan into Spencer’s office.
“We compiled a list from the evidence. There were dates involved, but it turns out we were reading those dates wrong, because Harlan was writing them as if he was British.”
“Psychopath behaviour,” Ryan mutters.
I turn on Spencer’s PC and I hit the space bar to wake my laptop back up.
“Right, so, we’re going to check records of meetings at Anchor West to see if we can identify any of Harlan’s clients.
Ryan frowns. “Don’t you have Harlan captive? Can’t you go torture him until he spills?”
Clearly, Ryan’s an action guy.
“Torture isn’t a reliable way to get information. If we can get enough to make the police or the FBI take us seriously, we can shop Harlan to them.”
“And if not?” he asks.
“If not, I think Victor Hayes and his team offered to make the guy disappear.”
“I’d go straight for that option,” Ryan admits. “The clients might go to prison, but there’s no way Harlan will. That guy has gotten off the hook so many damn times he’s been nicknamed The Eel.”
“Well, the plan is gather the info and then decide, so …”
“So, here we go, I guess,” Ryan says, sitting in Spencer’s seat.
I take the seat next to him and bring up the meeting screen on my laptop.
I take a copy and email it to Spencer, then I open Spencer’s emails and paste the schedule to his screen.
“That’s what you want me to search?” Ryan asks, raising his eyebrows.
“You can search for the date you want and then magnify that part.”
“Okay, sure.” He looks at the screen and then back at me. “Where’s that list?”
“Here,” I tell him. “We think the top one on this list might be the same guy as the top one on this list. If we search the two dates, we might find a match.”
“How exciting,” he mutters, as he takes the list and searches for the date.
