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“You must be hungry after your eventful day. Would you like something to eat? The chef is in.”
“Why am I here?”he repeated.
Magnusson set his glass down and nodded to Kingston.
Kingston produced the twisted remains of Jesse’s Crack Box from his pocket and slammed it on the table.
“Tell us how you built this.”
Jesse glowered. “You broke it.”
“Tell me how it works.”
“Why should I?”
Kingston flushed beetroot red, but Magnusson laid a hand on his arm. The man stepped back, his jaw working. Magnusson reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope. He pushed it across to Jesse, who eyed it like it might bite. He opened it. It was stuffed with cash—at least two thousand in twenty-pound notes.
“What’s this?”
“Call it a consultation fee.”
“For what?”
Magnusson leaned on his elbows and looked into Jesse’s eyes. “Tell us how you got in, Jesse.”
“I…uh… What?”
“Tell us how you broke into my system, you little shit,” Kingston said, thumping his fist on the table. “You’re just some scummy toe-rag. How the hell—?”
“All right, Mr. Kingston.” Magnusson didn’t raise his voice, but his tone had all the ruddiness draining from his security chief’s face. “I think that’s enough. Give us a moment, please.”
“But, sir—”
“Now…please.”
Kingston clenched his fists. He opened his mouth, closed it again, swore under his breath and stormed away.
Magnusson gazed at his glass of wine until he heard the door slam. Then he looked up. “My security chief and I may not agree on the nuances of polite intercourse, but I, like him, would very much like to know how you got around his so-called top-of-the-range security system.”
Jesse stared at his beer.
“Please. You’re not in any trouble.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I dropped the charges, didn’t I?”
Jesse bit the inside of his lip but didn’t speak.
Magnusson was silent for several moments. When he spoke, he’d lowered his voice. “I heard you, you know. We don’t register much when we’re under. But I heard what you said to your friend.”
“Look… It was Trixy’s bloody idea,” Jesse said. “I told her it was stupid, but I needed the cash and she, well—”
“You knew there were touch sensors on that door. You let her trip the alarm.”
Jesse gripped the beer bottle tight.
“You let yourself get caught rather than let her open that door. Why?”
