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Reath tapped a finger on the island. “I think it’s best if we go to my office.”
32
KAVNER
Ikept my hand pressed to London’s lower back as we walked into Phoenix Security Services. Reath’s offices were just down the street in a converted brick building. The tinted glass windows at the front had Phoenix Security Services etched on them, along with a stylized logo of a rising phoenix.
Inside was sleek and modern. We walked past a reception desk, the young, watchful man behind it giving us a nod. Reath led us upstairs. The interior was all polished concrete floor, wood, and glass with some industrial nods to the building’s past. We walked past a glass-walled conference room.
“Nice office,” London said.
“Thanks,” Reath replied.
“Reath only takes selective clients,” I told her. “He’s busy, and he costs a lot.”
“You get what you pay for,” Reath said.
At the end of the hall, Reath stopped at a door and looked at a retinal scanner. It beeped and the door opened. I ushered London into the heart of PSS.
“Ah.” She looked around. “This is more like it.”
The lights were on low in the darkened room. Most of the light came from the screens covering the far wall. There were several long, curved desks, and two men tapping away at their computers. The pair looked up as we entered.
“London, this is one of my men, Lincoln,” Reath said.
Lincoln stood from behind his computer. With his shaggy blonde hair, tanned skin, and wide smile, he looked like he should be out surfing. I knew he was a former Navy SEAL and an expert in Muay Thai fighting. He nodded at London and his smile widened.
I didn’t like the appreciation I saw on the man’s face. I slid an arm around her.
Linc’s smile didn’t waver, but he gave me a short nod. Message received.
“And this is Noah,” Reath continued. “Gents, Treasury Agent London Coleman.”
The second man swiveled his wheelchair to face us. He had black hair in need of a cut, bright blue eyes, and a heavy-duty tablet resting on his lap. “Hi.”
I knew Noah had been injured in Afghanistan by an IED. Afterward, he’d set to work sharpening his cyber skills, and had become a brilliant hacker.
“You ran the agents on my task force?” London asked.
Noah nodded. “No glaring red flags yet.”
The team’s ID photos appeared on the screen.
“Keegan looks solid.” Noah wheeled forward. “His spending is in line with his salary. He pays alimony to his ex, and his few splurges are on fishing trips.”
Linc leaned back against the desk and crossed his jean-clad legs. “The IRS agents are clean. Toby Myers likes to gamble, but he keeps it in check. Vivian Lamb has no red flags. Amy Chen is a different story.”
“What?” London looked shocked. “Amy’s a good agent. She’s young, smart, enthusiastic. I like her.”
“We found a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit in her bank account two weeks ago. We haven’t traced the source yet,” Noah said.
London dropped heavily into a chair, her face pale. “It can’t be Amy.”
“It may not be,” Linc said. “Once we trace the origin of the funds, we’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.” London nodded, her gaze settling on Reath. “Thank you all.”
She looked pale and tired. I saw her touch her face surreptitiously, and knew she was starting to feel some pain.
