An armored black Mercedes SUV was waiting outside the apartment building on Rector Street when Treadwell charged out the front door. He climbed in the back before the driver could get out and open the door for him.
“Let’s go now,” Treadwell said.
He could have walked, but this was faster and a lot more secure. From time to time a disgruntled investor would accost him on the street, but Butch always had someone covering his back, and the problem would be immediately solved.
They headed away, but as Treadwell was putting his tie on he realized that they were going in the wrong direction. “I want to go to the office.”
“Yes, sir, but I’m taking a detour. There’s a traffic tie-up on Broadway, and it’s blocked off.”
In less than five minutes they pulled up in front of the Burnham Pike tower, and Treadwell climbed out of the car and bolted across the sidewalk. Once inside, however, he slowed down and, head high, marched to the executive elevator, conscious that the security staff and others in the lobby were watching him as they did every day he came in. So goes Treadwell’s mood, good or bad, so goes the day.
Upstairs, Dammerman and Hardy were waiting for him, and they looked grim.
Treadwell charged past them and into the reception area of his office, where Ashley looked up.
“Hold all calls?” she asked.
“Right,” Treadwell said without stopping. “But get O’Connell here now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Inside, once the door was closed, Dammerman started, “They grabbed Levin without a hitch, but she didn’t have the flash drive on her.”
Treadwell took off his suit coat and draped it over the back of the chair. “Good. That means she didn’t make a second copy.”
“We’re not so sure,” Hardy said. “We sweated out one of the kids whose station is next to hers. He thought she might have made two copies.”
Treadwell sat down. “Could she have given it to her friend?”
“I think it’s a real possibility. They left the building together, but the Russian guy said he took off.”
“Did they follow him?” Treadwell demanded.
“They said there was no reason. Levin was their primary target.”
“So we don’t know where he is?” Treadwell asked.
Hardy nodded.
“So if there was a second copy of the flash drive, he could have it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then find him. Now!”
Ashley buzzed. “Ms. O’Connell is here.”
“Send her in,” Treadwell said.
As she came through the door, Hardy glared at her and left.
“I came up as soon as I heard you were in the building,” Julia said.
“Levin may have made two copies of the flash drive, is that right?” Treadwell demanded.
Julia glanced at Dammerman, sitting to her left, and then back at Treadwell. “She gave me one, but Francis said that one of Hardy’s people leaned on Norm Applebaum, who apparently overheard her and Donni Imani talking. But that’s not all.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dammerman asked.
“The drive Cassy gave to me is garbage. But the program she described to me could attack Abacus.”
“And stop it?” Treadwell asked, his voice suddenly soft.
Julia nodded.
“Fuck,” Treadwell said. “If you had the real flash drive, could you reverse engineer it?”
“Yes.”
“Have you searched the computers at her workstation?” Dammerman asked. “Maybe you can find it there.”
“It’s possible.”
“Then do it,” Treadwell said.
Julia hesitated. “I don’t know if I want to be a part of this any longer,” she said. “I don’t know if I can take the pressure.”
“Less than twenty-four hours, Julia,” Treadwell said. “And we need you. I need you to find Levin’s program.” He paused. “Will you help?”
Julia nodded. She gave Dammerman one last glance and then turned and left.
“Jesus,” Treadwell said.
Ashley buzzed him. “Ms. Ladd is calling on one, and she sounded insistent. Do you want me to tell her to call back?”
“I’ll take it,” Treadwell said, and he punched 1. “Now what the fuck do you want?”
“I’m trying to find Cassy Levin. She called and said she was on her way to see me, but she never showed up. And she sounded stressed out.”
“Who the hell is Cassy Levin?”
“She works for you.”
“I don’t know the name.”
“Well, I do. I’m friends with her parents. But when I called her extension there wasn’t an answer. I want to know what the fuck’s going on, Reid.”
“None of your business,” Treadwell said, and he slammed down the phone.