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The files don’t reveal shit.
We’ve gone through almost every piece of paper Hale can get his hands on, and he’s had me and Lucas keep tabs on a couple of people, including Myles. But Damian’s old second hasn’t done anything suspicious, despite the fact that he’s still obviously pissed about not being kept on in that position when Hale assumed control of the syndicate. He’s gone to Calvin’s for a drink a few times, but that in itself isn’t incriminating enough to implicate him. Lots of people drink there—it’s a fucking bar.
“But it’s not just a bar,” Lucas argues. We’ve spent the morning debating our next steps, guzzling coffee and eating a half-assed breakfast. He taps the old burner phone we recovered from Brian’s body. “It’s a bar we know our target frequented at some point.”
“Yeah, but how useful is that?” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “That narrows it down a little, but not a fuck of a lot.”
“No.” He shrugs. “Unless we can find out exactly when they were there. We need to know what they said to Brian. On that call or any others.”
“Should we just perform a seance then?” I ask irritably. “Ask Brian to pretty please tell us what he knows?”
Lucas almost laughs. If the stakes weren’t so fucking high, I’m sure he would’ve. But not a lot seems funny these days.
“We already had a hacker try to pull shit off the phone,” Hale reminds him. “He couldn’t get anything. It was wiped.”
“So we try again.”
“I might know a guy.” Ciro speaks up, and we all stop talking and turn to him. He’s quiet by nature, and especially in situations like this, he doesn’t speak unless it’s something worth saying. So we all pay attention when he does. “He’s supposed to be one of the best. Should I call him?”
Hale hesitates for less than a second before he nods. “Do it.”
He trusts Ciro with his life, just like we all do, but he also trusts his judgement. Ciro is his second now, and he’s stepped up to the role like he was born for it.
Already tapping out the number on his phone, Ciro steps out of the kitchen to make the call. He returns a few minutes later and gives a nod. “Done. He’ll be here in an hour.”
Grace runs upstairs to shower, and I clean up the remnants of breakfast while we wait.
We all gather in the living room an hour later. The phone sits on the coffee table, an innocuous looking thing. It’s almost hard to believe it could possibly hold the answers we’re after, but Lucas is right. It’s worth a fucking shot. We’re out of other brilliant ideas, and we’re running out of time.
When the hacker arrives, Ciro draws his gun and goes to let him in. It’s not how we normally answer the fucking door, but we’re all on-edge right now.
“What are we hoping to get from this thing?” Grace asks quietly. She’s sitting on the couch between me and Lucas, fingers drumming on her knees.
“Ideally, the hacker will be able to recover voicemails, texts, and phone calls,” I list off. “Also phone numbers, location data—for instance, where calls were placed and to whom. It’ll create a digital trail for us that could possibly lead to our mole.”
“You can find all of that from a flip phone?” She looks down at the little object skeptically.
“Hopefully,” Ciro says, walking in with a man I’ve never seen before. “If he’s as good at his job as he says he is.”
“I am.” The newcomer gives a lopsided grin, holding up one hand in a gesture of greeting. “Keith Medcalf.”
We all stand, instantly alert. Even though we invited the guy into our house, Lucas and I both take a small step in front of Grace without thinking, our stances ready.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Hale offers, stepping forward.
“Not a problem,” Keith says. “Your friend has briefed me on what you’re trying to get out of the phone. If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it for you.”
“Good.” Hale nods. “And you know the consequences if you mention any of this to anyone?”
“Absolutely.” Keith flashes a grin that doesn’t reach his sharp eyes. “I’m here for the paycheck, not the politics. And I’d like to fuckin’ live to see my next birthday.”
“Good, then let’s get started.” Hale grabs the phone from Lucas. “Do you need anything to begin?”
“Just what I have here.” He holds up a clear bag filled with a laptop and a few cords.
Upon entering our house, anything that guests want to carry with them go in a clear bag that we can monitor at all times. Additionally, if he was carrying any weapons, all potential weapons or garments that can conceal weapons would have to be removed. This guy knows we’re not messing around, and if he tries anything… well, he won’t get to have that birthday he was so excited about.
The minutes that follow seem to drag on until I think I might lose my damn mind. Usually we’re all pretty good at mastering our emotions when we need to, but that hasn’t been the case all week. All of us are anxious for any new information this phone could bring, and it takes all my willpower not to hover over Keith’s shou
