Trust Me, I'm Trouble (28 page)

“I think Sally had it last,” I say. “She was backing up some files from the marketing video project.”

Joseph sighs, but smiles at me. “Okay, I’ll check with her. Everything okay? You seem distracted today.”

“Yes, fine. I’m just—” I make a vague wavy gesture that encompasses all the chaos in my life without explicitly referring to anything.

“Me too,” he says, his guard slipping to show the pain beneath.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out to see a text from Lily.
I really need to talk to you.

I completely forgot her text from yesterday in all the craziness. I dismiss the new text. I’ll call her after work.

Speaking of, Ackley never showed for work today. It’s as good a smoking gun as I’m going to get without being able to track him down. I tried emailing, texting, calling. I even had Dani drive me to Ackley’s house this morning. The place was a dump that has been on the market for years. All of which points to him as Duke’s killer, and a damn smart one at that. Which makes his getting caught on security camera that much more odd. If he’s really that smart, how did he get caught on video?

In any case, the only way I’m going to get the blue-fairy flash drive back is if I can lure him out of hiding.

“Julep.”

I jump for the second time in ten minutes. Aadila is standing just behind me, an annoyed look on her face.

“I said your name, like, five times,” she says, setting some folders down on my desk. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. What’s up?” I give her a sheepish smile.

“Nothing. You’re just staring off into space like a vegetable. It’s weird.” She leans against the desk. “You got dizzy and took off like a shot last night, and now you’re practically catatonic. Do you have a brain tumor or something?”

If only. “No, I’m fine. Just crappy family stuff. What’s up with the folders?”

“The police wanted files on all us NWI chickens. They have some lame theory that Duke’s death was an inside job. Something about security footage going missing. As if any of these zealots would ever consider offing their beloved leader.”

“Interns, too?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just curious what’s in my file,” I lie. “You taking these up to Dr. Raktabija’s office?”

“That was the plan,” she says, eyeing me conspiratorially.

“I’m headed up there to get some sales data from her assistant. I could drop them off for you.”

“Well, it is a pretty long hike up to the fourth floor,” she says, smirking, and then heads back to her desk sans folders.

I riffle through them, looking for Ackley’s. It’s fourth from the bottom, which makes sense, since Scarlet, the document coordinator, probably pulled them in alphabetical order. I slide it out and flip it open, scanning the contents for anything that might help me contact him.

A frustrating ten minutes later, I close the folder, no closer to finding Ackley than I was before. And now I have to lug all these folders up to Dr. Raktabija’s office for no good reason. Ugh.

But as I slide the folder back into its place in the stack, I notice a thin slice of yellow peeking out from the top of another folder higher up in the stack than Ackley’s. On a hunch, I pull out the folder in question.

D
UPREE,
J
.—
I
NTERN

I open the folder and flip to where the Post-it is affixed. In Ackley’s handwriting is a simple note.

PHONY.

It’s followed by a phone number. I peel off the Post-it and slip it into my pocket. Fantastic. Now I’m the one following the lady. Not the best position to be in, but I can turn it around again.

I just have to find the one thing Ackley still needs: the encryption key.

• • •

Dani’s waiting for me in the lobby when I get back from dropping off the folders. She’s actually reading, which is the first time I’ve ever seen
that.

“I read,” she says when I question her about it. “How do you think I learned English?”

“You learned English from
Car and Driver
?”

“I bought it for the articles.”

I laugh loudly at that.

“What?” she says, puzzled.

“Never mind.”

We get to the Chevelle without incident, but I can tell Dani’s nervous. This Spade guy really has her on edge, which puts me on edge. I’ve never heard of him, so I don’t know what to fear. But when Dani’s this tense, I’d be a fool not to be worried.

“We’ve got some time before curfew.”

She gives me a calculating look. “What do you propose?”

“I’m craving a club soda.”

• • •

Twenty minutes later, we walk from the bright sunshine of Broadway into the dark shadows of Bar63. The place is nearly empty at four-ish in the afternoon, but there are a few patrons taking advantage of happy hour. Tori is behind the bar, expertly brandishing a martini shaker. She doesn’t notice me right away. Dani waits by the door. I slide onto what I’ve come to think of as my stool and wait.

It’s a hell of a long shot, pumping Tori for the encryption key. If she does have it, she’s not likely to give it to me. Or admit that she even knows what I’m talking about.

The truth is, I have precious little else to go on for finding the encryption key. No one remotely associated with the flash drive has even mentioned it was encrypted, much less how to go about getting the key. Duke was dead before I even knew the flash drive existed. Sam knew it was encrypted but not why or how to decipher it. My mom is in the wind. She could be anywhere doing anything right now. Not to mention it’s possible the woman who called Sam wasn’t even my mother. It’s not like he ever saw her.

“Kennedy, right?” Tori says as she plops a club soda in front of me. No twist.

It takes me a minute to figure out what she’s talking about. Kennedy Fairchild is the name on the fake ID I gave her on my first trip to the bar.

“That’s right,” I say. “I’m impressed you recognized me without the Catholic schoolgirl costume.”

“I never forget a face.” She smiles at me, the skin at the corners of her eyes branching into the beginnings of crow’s-feet. She hands a round of tequila shots to a group of college students that just came in.

I wipe a finger through the condensation on my glass, leaving a spiral pattern of clarity through the mist. “You know, I saw you the other day. At the New World Initiative office. I’m an intern at NWI. Small world, huh?”

“Yes,” she says, not meeting my eyes as she scrubs the bar with a towel.

“Tragedy about the founder, isn’t it? I got to work with him pretty closely before everything happened,” I say, my own voice not as neutral as I’d like it to be. “He showed me this really cool statue of a pink fairy—”

“Blue fairy,” Tori corrects me automatically before thinking. Then she stops wiping and closes her eyes. “What do you want?”

“The encryption key,” I say. Might as well put it out there. I almost add that I want an explanation as to what the hell is going on, but it’s never a good idea to admit to a hostile witness that you don’t know as much as they think you do.

She comes over to me and lowers her voice. “I don’t have it. I don’t have the drive, either, if that’s what you’re going to ask next. Though if you’re asking for the key, then I’m guessing you already have the drive.”

“You work for my grandmother, don’t you?”

She takes a deep breath, bracing herself against the bar. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence. Victoria Febbi. The blue-fairy flash drive. The bank letter confirming that the safe-deposit box the blue fairy was taken from belonged to my grandmother. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

She glares at me, lips pressed together in a line. Looks like it’s time to play hardball. I slide off the stool and take out my phone. I pull up Mike’s mobile number and show it to her. I press Send and put the phone up to my ear.

As it rings, I say to Tori, “You know my foster father is an FBI agent, right? I think he’d be very interested to know that you’re part of the Moretti crime family. Very. Interested.”

She dithers for a second or two before finally breaking. “Okay, okay! Stop the call. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Hi, Mike,” I say when he answers.

“Make it quick, kid, I’m in a meeting.”

“I was wondering: What’s the mandatory minimum sentencing for involvement in organized crime?” I smirk at Tori.

He sighs heavily. “You’re trying to get the bartender to talk, aren’t you? Fine. But you better fill me in when I get there.” Then he hangs up. I’m impressed he already knew the bartender was my target.

I cover the receiver with my hand and say to Tori, “Start talking.”

“I’m not talking with him on the phone!” she says.

“And I’m not taking your word for it that you’ll tell me everything when I hang up. Start talking or I do.” Then I uncover the receiver and pretend to keep talking to Mike. “What was that, Mike? Sorry, my phone cut out for a second.” I pause. “Oh, no, just a friend and I debating the subject.” I pause again. “Twenty years is the minimum?” I whistle low. “Wow. I’d hate to be the criminal who gets charged with that.”

“You’re right, okay?” Tori all but whispers. “I work for your grandmother. We didn’t know the blue fairy had any value until it was stolen. When we heard the rumors that it was actually a flash drive and that Salinger had it, I was sent to infiltrate his company and get it back.”

I pocket my phone, dropping the act. “Did you kill him?” I say, leaning so far over the bar that I’m almost nose to nose with her.

“No. I hadn’t found the blue fairy yet. I needed more time. I assumed
they
found it and then killed Salinger. Where do
you
fit into all this?”

“Uh-uh. I’m the one with the FBI on speed dial. You do the talking.”

“Well, I’m not answering anything else out here in the open.”

That’s fair. I signal to Dani, who follows us through the door marked
OFFICE
. Tori eyes Dani askance but doesn’t object. She shuts the door and gestures for us to sit on the well-worn sofa along the wood-paneled wall, then leans against the desk in the middle of the room, crossing her arms.

“Who the hell is ‘they’?” I ask.

“Traitors trying to take over the organization.”

“If you know they exist, why do you not just eliminate them?” Dani asks.

“We’ve tried. Obviously, it’s complicated.”

“And I should care about that because…,” I say.

“Because it’s your family, too. Your mother may have left us, but she’s up to her neck in this. It’s not a coincidence that the flash drive is shaped like a blue fairy.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I’m your second cousin once removed,” she says flippantly. She could be lying or she could be telling the truth. I’ll likely never know.

“Is Tori your real name?” I ask.

“Of course not. You think ‘infiltrate’ means handing over my pedigree and résumé and saying, ‘If it’s all right, can I have the blue-fairy flash drive, please?’ Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why
that
name? Didn’t you think someone would figure it out?”

“That was the point. We were hoping to draw your mother from hiding without giving away who I was. It didn’t work.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Why do you care? I’m a Moretti. That’s all you need to know.”

“All right, then, what now? If you don’t have the flash drive, and I don’t have the flash drive, then who has it?”

“I don’t know who else would know its value.”

“What
is
its value? What’s on it?” Dani asks.

“We don’t know. But it’s a good bet it’s something bad for us. Why else steal it from us?”

“It could be a treasure map.”

Tori snorts. “Then it’s bad for us that someone else could get to it first.”

“Do you know where my mother is?” I ask.

“If we did, we’d just wait until she got the drive back from Salinger and then get it from her.”

“And you have no idea what the encryption key is?”

“It doesn’t matter, because if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“What is Sister Rasmussen’s role in all this?”

Tori blinks, surprised. “How did you—?” She shakes her head. “She’s your grandmother.”

A
s I push open the door to leave Bar63, I run smack into Mike. Dani slinks out behind me into the light.

“Well?” Mike says.

“I didn’t get much,” I say. “Mostly conspiracy theories. How’d you figure out I was confronting her?”

“Because I know you well enough by now to guess what you’ll do at least about fifty percent of the time,” he says. “I was coming to question her myself, actually, but you beat me to it. I still expect you to tell me everything she said.”

“All right, but let’s grab a latte. All this crazy is making me thirsty.”

We head to a diner a few blocks over and order a round of coffees.

“Okay, spill,” Mike says. So I do. Partially. I fill him in on the missing blue-fairy flash drive (though I leave out the part about how it was stolen from his house); I tell him about the Moretti angle (minus the bit where my friends broke into Sister Rasmussen’s office); and I tell him about suspecting Ackley of being involved (failing to mention our theft of the video footage, of course).