Ellie Ashe - Miranda Vaughn 02 - Dropping the Dime (9 page)

We walked out into the cold sunny morning and then climbed into Burton's car, not speaking until after we'd passed the last guard station and turned in our parking placard. Once we were on the main road leading to the freeway, Burton turned toward me.

"Did that help you and Rob?"

I thought about the question. We'd wanted to find some dirt on the Leonidis family, but instead we had a playdate with their long-lost brother and son, who seemed to still be pining for the loss of his family. Other than confirming that Ana Leonidis didn't do much work for her salary, I wasn't sure that anything Mark Ramsey said helped Kathryn. In fact, it made me doubt that Simon Leonidis would be embezzling from his company. It didn't sound like he did much with the company's financials, preferring to leave that to his CFOs.

Milo, however, knew his way around the company's books. He may hate doing that work, but he did know how the money flowed.

"What do you know about Milo Leonidis?" I asked Burton.

"Married, two little kids. Has a business degree, but has only ever worked for his father." Burton gave me a sidelong glance. "What are you thinking?"

I was still trying to figure that out for myself. The more we dug into the Leonidis family, the more I wondered how all the pieces fit together. We needed to talk with the main players themselves, but that would be tough without raising an alarm among the potential suspects.

"Just that we're looking at Simon doing something, covering up something. Maybe we're not looking at the whole picture."

Agent Bethany Boylan was silent as she taped a wire alongside the edge of Kathryn's bra, a surprisingly lacy piece of lingerie. She tucked a small black plastic square into one of the cups.

"Does that feel secure?" she asked.

Kathryn nodded. "I think so."

"Good. This is a transmitter. You won't be wearing a recorder. It's going to transmit the conversation to a remote location, in this case, a van outside the building where Agents Buchanan and Barnes will be recording. As long as you're wearing this, once they turn on the computer, this little microphone will capture everything."

The agent turned to me. "That means no expectation of confidentiality for attorney-client conversations."

"Got it," I said.

There wasn't going to be an attorney there, Rob and Aunt Marie were up at my family's cabin above Lake Tahoe for the weekend. But Rob seemed confident that I'd be able to hold Kathryn's hand for her first undercover job. Most confidential informants don't have an attorney with them, he'd explained. But Kathryn wasn't a street-smart drug snitch. She was going to require a little more care and handling.

"Are you going to be in the van, Agent Boylan?" Kathryn asked, buttoning her cardigan over her mock turtleneck.

Bethany Boylan glared at me and shook her head. "No, there's not room in the van."

I supposed that meant I was taking her seat. Well, tough luck, toots. In the past week, I'd reviewed a decade worth of financial records from Leonidis Development. The payoff for that forty hours of drudgery was getting to ride along while Kathryn went undercover.

We exited the tiny windowless room in the federal building and met Jake and Finn in the empty lobby.

"She's ready to go," Bethany said then gave them a curt nod and strode back toward the elevators.

"Miranda, you'll ride with us. We're going to get the van in position near the corner where Simon Leonidis's office is. We'll be right outside if you need anything," Jake said, giving Kathryn a reassuring smile.

Kathryn gave a shaky smile in return. "Can I ask you something?"

Finn tilted his head and gave Kathryn his full attention. "Yes, Ms. Hammond?"

"Is there any way that Mr. Leonidis could know I'm meeting with you?"

Finn and Jake exchanged a glance, then looked at Kathryn.

"Why do you ask?" Finn asked.

She shrugged and blinked her huge brown eyes. "I don't know. He just seems so suspicious of me. Checking up on me. He's watching me at work more than usual," she said. "It's probably nothing. I'm sure I'm just paranoid."

Concern crossed Jake's face. "Has he said anything to you that makes you think he's suspicious?"

She paused then nodded. "He asked who I met for lunch the other day when I came to Mr. Fogg's office. And when I was leaving work yesterday to meet with Miranda, he asked if I was meeting with someone."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I had lunch by myself. I had errands to run, and I wanted to go by the library. And when I left work, I said I was meeting a friend for a drink."

Alarm bells rang in my head. Kathryn was not the type to meet a friend for a drink. The library? Sure, that I could see. But wine spritzers and appetizers? In that thick cardigan sweater and mid-calf length corduroy skirt? I wasn't picturing that.

"Is that something you normally do?" Jake asked, his voice and face much more neutral than mine would be.

"No. I shouldn't have lied. I'm terrible at it." She bit her lip, and Finn patted her arm.

"I'm sure you did just fine. Don't worry about it," he said. "Next time, we'll meet later in the day so you don't have to come up with an excuse to leave early."

"Thanks," she said. "Okay. I'm ready."

Finn squeezed her shoulder and grinned. "You'll be fine. Just remember what we talked about."

"Right. Direct the conversation to the vendor—let him do the talking." Kathryn took a deep breath then dug into her massive brown purse for her keys.

"You go on ahead. We'll send you a text message once we get set up. Stay in your office until then, and try not to talk to Mr. Leonidis. And if you don't see us, don't panic. We're there," Finn said.

Kathryn walked out of the lobby and got into her Volvo then pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the freeway that would take her to the Leonidis headquarters. I followed Jake and Finn through a different exit where we got into a van with an auto body repair logo on the side. Inside, the van was outfitted with electronics that, with luck, would record Mr. Leonidis's confession. Personally, I had my doubts about Kathryn's ability to get Simon Leonidis to admit to criminal activity, but Jake and Finn seemed confident.

As arranged, Finn parked the van in a corner of the parking lot at the Leonidis development headquarters. Kathryn had drawn a rudimentary blueprint of the executive offices, and Mr. Leonidis's office was directly above the van.

Jake turned on a laptop and another electronic device next to it that may have been a receiver. Finn stayed in the driver's seat, watching out the window for anyone who might approach the van. He had a newspaper on the dashboard and a clipboard with a fake work invoice in case anyone asked questions. But so far it looked like the only cars in the lot near the door were Kathryn's Volvo and a Cadillac sedan with dealer plates. I assumed that was Mr. Leonidis's car, since it was parked in a reserved spot near the door.

"Are you sure about sending Kathryn in with a wire? I don't know if she's up to that."

He nodded and frowned a little. "Yeah, but we work with novices all the time. Just have to prepare her a little more."

"But you saw her back at your office. She's a terrible liar," I said, trying to picture the accountant with the multitude of cardigans as a Mata Hari.

"Don't worry about her. She's in good hands," Jake said.

My mind raced back in time six months to when I'd been in Jake's hands—literally. My face flushed hot, and I looked away quickly before I embarrassed myself.

When I looked back at him, he was smiling, and I knew it was too late to save my dignity.

"She'll be fine. Trust me," he said.

"Sure," I said. It was true. He'd seen me through a bad situation in Belize and Macau last fall, and I knew I could trust him. As long as it wasn't with my heart.

"Okay, we're up," Jake said. "Send her the text."

I punched Kathryn's number into my phone and sent her the prearranged signal. A second after I hit send, a beep sounded through Jake's computer speakers, and on the computer screen in front of him, a series of lights jumped. I could hear Kathryn's exhaled breath quickening, and Jake tapped another button, turning down the volume. He leaned over and took something off the shelf behind me. I tried to lean back to give him room, but there was nowhere to go in the cramped space. He returned to his seat and plugged something into the laptop, and I saw it was a microphone.

"Starting consensual recording of Kathryn Hammond and Simon Leonidis. It's Saturday, March 20th at 5:49 p.m. at the Leonidis Development offices on Faulkner Drive," he said.

He unplugged the microphone and leaned back.

"Let's see what your girl can do," he said.

The sound of papers being shuffled filled the quiet van, then footsteps and a door opening, then closing. In the background, I could hear a vacuum cleaner humming, but that sound faded as Kathryn headed away from the cleaning crew. I could hear the rustle of Kathryn's clothing, and a couple of tentative knocks that sent the sound level indicators jumping on the computer screen.

"Mr. Leonidis?"

Another knock, then a muffled reply and footsteps. As the soundtrack unfolded, I could picture Kathryn walking into the CEO's office, tugging her shapeless cardigan around her. In the twilight, we had a view of Mr. Leonidis' office, which was lit up, but it was on the second floor, so we couldn't see what was going on inside. Unless Kathryn managed to maneuver her boss to the window, we would have only the wire to tell us what was going on.

"Good evening, Kathryn. I didn't realize you were working tonight."

Simon Leonidis's voice boomed through the van and Jake again turned the volume down. We could still hear the pleasantries exchanged, but it no longer sounded like they were sitting in the vehicle with us using megaphones. In the driver's seat, Finn listened intently, looking back occasionally to eye the computer console.

"I'm glad you're here tonight, because I wanted to talk to you," Kathryn said. "I've been working on the quarterly reports, and I really need to know more about these invoices from Acadia Street, Inc."

There was a pause and then a creaking sound.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. Just file it under services," he said.

"But what kind of services? I'm just not comfortable not knowing more about what we're paying for here," Kathryn said.

I was impressed with her questioning. Simon Leonidis didn't seem like a man who took well to being questioned by underlings.

"You're very conscientious, and I appreciate that," he said.

There was another long pause and then that creaking sound again. I peered up at the second floor window, as if I'd be able to see something, but all I saw was the ceiling through narrow gaps in the blinds. A shadow moved across the view, and I leaned forward. Jake did also, following my gaze out of the small window.

"I don't want you to get in trouble if I declare that this is an expense that may have tax consequences, one way or another," Kathryn said.

A slight static filled the van, and I held my breath. Was the microphone cutting out?

No, it was the sound of Kathryn's clothing against the device as she moved.

"That's why I hired such a smart woman," Simon said, his voice warm and deep. Friendly. "Can I pour you a drink?"

A little too friendly. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

"I'll have what you're having," Kathryn said.

Oh, this was going in an unexpected direction, and I didn't like it. Not at all. She was supposed to be all business. Not drinking buddies with the boss. From the expression on Jake's face, he didn't like this new development either.

Kathryn's clothing rustled again as she moved toward Simon's in-office bar, and the sound of liquid splashing into a glass grew louder.

"
Ya mas
," Simon said, and the glasses clinked together.

"What did he say?" I whispered.

"It's a Greek toast. It means 'to our health.'"

"You speak Greek?" I asked.

Jake shushed me and turned up the volume.

"Oh, my. That's strong," Kathryn said. Her voice sounded choked.

"It's ouzo."

Lovely. Why didn't he just hand her moonshine?

"About these receipts," Kathryn said. "If you could just explain what sort of work the company did, I can find a category that will fit."

Simon laughed and the slosh of ouzo was clear. "Sweetheart, don't worry about it. It's fine."

His voice was gentle and kind, but the message was clear—Simon did not want to discuss Kathryn's concerns. She was striking out.

"Bottom's up," he said, his voice now booming.

"Oh, uh, okay." Kathryn sounded unsure about the second drink, but it sounded like she took it. "Wow. That sort of burns."

I frowned. "I'm a little worried about Kathryn. Can't imagine she's much of a drinker."

Simon laughed. "Do you like it?"

"Sure, it's just different," Kathryn said. "But we should be talking about the books. I'm concerned about—"

"Shh-shh. You're working too hard, Kathryn. It's Saturday night. You should be out on the town…with your boyfriend." It almost sounded like an inquiry.

"I don't mind working on weekends. It's quiet, and there're few interruptions," Kathryn said.

Jake exhaled a frustrated sigh. I understood his impatience, but shot him a glare anyway. Kathryn would get the conversation back to the shady vendor as soon as she could. She wasn't a professional snitch, after all.

"But a pretty woman like yourself…" Simon said. The oily tone in his voice left no doubt about his intentions.

I gasped. "That's sexual harassment."

Jake frowned. "Which is not a crime. She needs to keep him talking."

"You're very kind, Mr. Leonidis," Kathryn said.

Was that a giggle? Oh lord, was she enjoying her boss's attention? Or drunk?

"Please, call me Simon."

There was more rustling and I couldn't figure out what was going on up on the second floor.

"You know, Kathryn, we've worked together for a while now, and yet I don't feel like I know much about your personal life," Simon said.

From the front seat, Finn let out a loud groan.

"Seriously? The old horndog decides to hit on her now?"

Jake and I shushed him in time to hear Kathryn's giggle again.

"There's not much to tell," she said.