Page 12 of Unlocked

There was a brief pause, the comfortable kind, the kind that meant Armand was already thinking rather than stalling. "Consider it done. Since Paris, I have been curious about him myself. He was too confident in that meeting for a man who lost the argument."

"My thought exactly."

"I will make some calls tomorrow. Give me a few days, and then we meet, yes? I will come to you. We can discuss what I have found in person."

"Good." Archer appreciated that Armand didn't need things spelled out.

"There is something else," Armand said, and his tone shifted just slightly, losing the warmth without becoming cold. It was the voice of a man who had moved weapons across three continents and lived to retire from it. "Fisher."

Archer said nothing. He waited.

"I have already been making inquiries about him. Separately, on my own initiative. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Good. Because I think we have both been making the same mistake." Armand paused. "We look at Davis, and we see the threat. He is loud, he is ambitious, he is obvious. Fisher is none of these things, and that is precisely what makes him dangerous. Do not underestimate him, Archer. Whatever Davis is planning, I would be willing to bet that Fisher is several steps ahead of both of us and has been for quite some time."

Archer was quiet for a moment. "What have your contacts told you?"

"Nothing specific yet. Only patterns. Movements that don't quite add up. Money going places it has no business going. I will know more in a few days." Another pause. "Just don't make the mistake of keeping your focus only on Davis. That may be exactly what Fisher is counting on."

"Noted." Archer glanced at the screens. "I'll expect your call."

"A bientôt, mon ami."

The line went dead.

Archer set the phone down and stood still, his brain running while his body remained motionless.

Armand wasn't a man who raised alarms without reason. If he was concerned about Fisher, then Fisher warranted a great deal more attention than he'd been getting.

He turned back to the monitors and noted Ryker entering the ballroom below. Archer had made sure that Ryker and his elite team were the best in the business. They didn't mind getting their hands dirty, which was a necessity when dealing with some of the most powerful people on earth. Power had a way of making people less concerned with societal norms and more focused on keeping what they had. It helped to have a team that would push back when they stepped too far over the line.

Ryker spoke briefly with several of his men, and they fanned out across the ballroom, working to get a line on Davis.

The gala was celebrating some charity that was popular at the moment, and it was a who's who of New York's elite. The type of event Archer loathed. He recognized, though, that if nothing else, he needed to know what the gossip would be come tomorrow morning.

His cell rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "Yes."

"Davis is traveling this week. Do you want me to follow him?"

"Where is he going?"

"Singapore."

Archer frowned. That was well outside of any pies Davis currently had his fingers in. "Yes. Keep me updated."

"Of course." The call dropped.

On the monitors, he watched the scene play out forty floors below. Ryker and his team were easy enough to pick out. The other team he'd just called was a different matter entirely. Masters at blending in. He knew one of them was in the ballroom because he'd requested a presence, but he had no idea which member it was, and he wouldn't be able to pick them out from these cameras. He would need to be up close and personal for that.

His ghost team, he called them privately. Geniuses at changing their appearance, blending into any situation, and then disappearing again without a trace. Ryker's team and the ghost team did not communicate. They operated independently and without knowledge of each other. Archer had made sure of that from the beginning.

Ryker and the others hadn't known of the ghost team's existence until Rush had stumbled across one of its members during the situation up in Maine. Archer still wasn't entirely sure what Rush and the rest of the team had pieced together since then, and he didn't ask. It didn't matter. The ghost team was not their concern.

His phone rang again. Ryker. "Davis is discussing fishing at the moment. Trying to curry favor with good old boy stories, but so far no one seems to be biting."

Archer bit back a response to the pun. "Fine. Keep an eye on him."