Natasha Banks sat primly in the oh-so very comfortable cushioned chair. It took an awful lot to not wiggle her butt and settle in for a nap. Especially since Dell had wakened her just before six with the most delicious lewd demands upon her person. She sighed and turned it into a hopefully benign smile when the two people on the other side of the desk looked up at her.
Henry and Christine Fontaine, with the FBI over twenty years. And the secret weapon that Jonathon had handed her in the form of a business card. Networking, her mind shouted. This is how it’s supposed to work in the right world. For good.
“That was not a bored sigh,” Christine commented with a little knowing smile. She winked at Tasha and turned back to the papers she was reading through.
“Ben is rarely late for appointments,” Henry looked at the watch on his wrist.
“Unless he gets…unavoidably…detained,” Christine pointed out with a little grimace and a shrug.
Twenty-Four hours earlier…
Ben Murphy hated being late. No, he hated other people making him late.
On his own, he’d manage to make it places on time. But did criminals have a sense of timing? Hell, no. He thought about his last late appoint several weeks ago and groaned as he maneuvered the large burgundy motorcycle through afternoon traffic.
But he knew it was time. Past time almost.
The Bureau had recruited him straight out of college. He’d worked cons, scams and investigations undercover since then. That made it twelve years before he’d come to this point. The point where he realized it wouldn’t be at all difficult to shoot some of the scum he was conning and not feel a twinge of regret at it.
That’s why it was time. He didn’t want to be that person.
Charlotte Bell stopped in the lobby of the just opened complex for Hunter Cruise Lines and stared. Not that she was unaccustomed to seeing Ben Murphy look like something between a hard rocker and hard biker, but this was a little beyond that.
There was a jagged tear in the upper arm of his shirt and deep red definitely showed through. His chaps covered a pair of worn jeans and the leather vest flapped open as he ran across the almost empty parking lot. Long, shoulder length brown-black hair hung in not quite straight, shaggy lengths, bangs dipping now and then onto the shaded glasses he wore.
“Ben?”
“Charlie?” He came to a halt, barely noticing the casually dressed man in jeans and t-shirt come up behind her, his hand possessively on her waist. He’d heard Charlie had found a good guy through their friend network. Good for her.
“What happened to you?”
“I’m fucking late. I hate being late. Idiots and guns…” his head shook dismally, one hand up to yank the glasses free. “Sorry. I have an appointment and I only hope I can apologize enough to get a second shot.”
“Applying for a position?” Charlie asked with a little grin, her elbow back into the ribs behind her.
“Security…and you know some idiot had to try and rob a bank when I’m there getting my card replaced from the last undercover deal when I ended up in the middle of the lake…” Ben Murphy exhaled. “Sorry again.”
“Pretty sure you’ll get a second chance, Ben…” Charlotte turned to the man behind her. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for lunch. I love the new cafeteria,” she went to her toes and kissed him before facing Ben again. “Ben Murphy…my fiancée, Jesse Hunter. Be nice to him, he comes armed,” she told the grinning man before tapping Ben on the arm and striding toward the exit.
“You…I…Christ…”
“I’ve had those kind of days, Ben. Besides, you come highly recommended.”
“I…thank you, sir,” Ben offered his palm. “I don’t make excuses for my behavior and I’m very rarely late for appointments.”
“I’m guessing the blood on your arm is a pretty convincing alibi.” He took the palm with a strong shake. “Jesse Hunter. If you’re okay, let’s walk and I’ll show you some of the territory while we talk.”
“I’m good. The EMT’s were on site when the call was made to 9-1-1. A graze that they bandaged together,” Ben explained, quickly launching into the questions he had about the position.
Present time:
He glared over his shoulder at the new guards and scrambled for the elevator.
Why was it when he wanted things to go smoothly, everyone and their fucking uncle stepped into his path to make his life choppy and annoying?
“Murphy’s law,” the inner voice said with a satanic chuckle.
His nose twitched. Appreciably. And feminine. He tried for casual and caught sight of the blonde to his left. She had the old Farah Fawcett shag cut, honey blond at the ends and pale champagne over the rest. It hung past her shoulders in loose curls. Her makeup was subtle, light and barely there. Her eyes were a hazel-green that crinkled at the corners when she caught him looking. She smiled.
He knew he probably smelled like something off the street. Maybe motor oil and street perfume mixed together. But at the moment, the look in her eyes said she didn’t mind.
He was about to smile back when she winced, a sharp breath drawn in and held when the older man beside her put his mouth next to her ear. Ben saw his lips moving and the instant sorrow in her eyes. Eyes that lost the happy smile as she stared at the floor.
She had a pretty smile. A light up the room kind of smile, he thought, taking in the large hoop earrings she wore. And he doubted they were fake diamonds. His gaze lowered, taking in her hands. Both of which were empty of rings, with long, slender fingers that gripped a small purse at her waist.
His judgment wasn’t usually that off. This was the Federal Building. So that meant she was involved in something. She didn’t look like an agent, but then, neither did he most of the time. And the guy gripping her arm was definitely much older than she was. He wondered how much later he could be and did he have the right…
“She’s way out of your league,” Came the flat tone when the elevator stopped, the older man stepping forward and giving the woman a shrug. “Out, Spring. And remember what you’ve been told.”
Ben remained silent, his throat clenching when she looked up long enough to spell out help me with her eyes. He let the elevator doors close at the same time his instincts told him he was making the biggest mistake of his life.
And it was the first time he’d ever ignored his instincts.
Squaring his shoulders, he told himself saving the world wasn’t his problem. He had enough to deal with in his own little corner of it. He nodded at the receptionist that gestured for him to go through, his hand up and knocking politely on the closed door.
Tasha looked up at the sound, her legs uncrossing and feet settling flat on the floor. Then her eyes widened behind her glasses in disbelief. Her head spun like it was suddenly detached to the business-perfectly dressed couple behind the desk. When Christine Fontaine smiled broadly, she felt her senses reel.
“Believe me, Natasha, Ben is much more than he appears. And he’s a perfect match for this undercover assignment,” Henry waited for the door to close. “Ben Murphy, Natasha Banks.”
“Sorry I’m late. New guards on the entry,” Ben held his hand out to her, frowning at the weak palm she offered. And she jumped slightly when he shook her hand. “They didn’t believe my ID, then pulled me over wanting to know how armed I was…”
“Oh, dear,” Christine tried to hide her smile and lost.
“Fortunately, Audrey Keaton arrived at the same time and spared me,” Ben crossed the room and sunk into the chair at the side of the desk.
“I’m going to take it for granted you read all the information Miss Banks provided to me?” Henry leaned back, hands tented on his lap.
“Everything,” he looked her over, from prim flat shoes to the small round glasses. “You compiled all this? Including the Utah information?”
“Yes. It’s my job,” she answered with a little frown.
“I think Ben will make a perfect foil to the invitation to examine the school, Natasha. And you, his partner, will suit quite nicely,” Christine said as if it had already been discussed.
“I…what? Me?” She shot upright, perched on the edge of the chair and gaping at the older couple. “Oh…oh, no…” Her head shook so hard her glasses slid to the end of her nose.
“Her? She’s not an agent,” Ben protested flatly.
“They already know me! I…kind of…confronted Hamilton and Todd…” Tasha fell back into the chair, her head shaking.
“By the time my people finish with you, your own mother won’t know you. Some violet contacts and a little hair straightening and a slight color change,” Christine walked casually around the desk, pausing to study. “And definitely some clothing to match Ben’s.”
“You’re wanting to send a desk girl…”
“She’d be with you and she already knows what we’re looking for,” Henry interrupted sharply. “One of the problems I see happening from this, is the connections these people could have in this office. This remains between us and the Assistant DA I work with, Kate Grant.”
“If these people are doing the things you’ve already documented…” Christine shook her head.
“I’ve got the warrant,” Henry held up the paperwork and that’s all we need. “I had my secretary call from a phone registered to Candy Barker,” he nodded toward Natasha with a little smile. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning, first thing at nine a.m. for a tour and introduction to the Gifted Academy. Your daughter, Melanie, is already in the system in the local school as having exceptional grades and promise.”
“You know what to look for as far as records are concerned and I’d be willing to bet you know just how to get past any security that might be on their computers.” Christine nodded when Tasha lowered her gaze to the floor.
“This is a rush job with a civilian…” Ben pushed a long breath between his lips.
“If we risk news of this getting out, the kids might vanish,” Tasha said quietly, realizing just how important the whole thing was. She nodded very slowly. “Alright. I understand. I can do this.”
“You’ll wear a wire and a camera,” Henry told her. “And Ben is very good at his job.”
“Be back here tomorrow morning at seven, Natasha,” Christine had been making notes. “We’ll have someone to adjust your appearance. Let your friends who might be looking for you, that you’ll be out of touch for a few days. Perhaps as long as a week. I’ve booked you into a hotel near the school and will finish up the necessary papers for you this afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tasha stood up and lifted her purse. The familiar feel did nothing to stop the tremor inside her. “Seven. Sharp. Good night and thank you.”
The room was silent when the door closed behind her.
“You didn’t have to scare her quite that much, Ben Murphy,” Christine chastised with a stern look. “While I’m not down playing the danger, these people are academics, not a Columbian drug lord.”
“She’s never been off a desk,” he replied flatly. “What do you need from me?”
“A husband. A set of trained eyes. And support, just in case Christine is wrong.” Henry looked at his wife with a smile. “Thomas Errickson has a reputation that is more than enough to make me interested in his involvement with this academic endeavor. And made it extremely easy to get the full warrant. If closing him down comes about because of this, you’ll have gone out with a fireworks display like we’ve never seen in a long time, Ben.”
“And I’m taking a civilian in with me,” he leaned back, long legs covered in leather chaps stretching out before him.
“That girl has more pluck than you might see,” Christine shook her head and left the office, assuring him she’d have everything ready in the morning.
Henry watched his wife go and looked at Ben. “Your recommendation comes from a parent, Jerry Tollenson. We managed to find this tidbit of information when the couple was picked up in the middle of a drug bust. I got the information about two weeks ago, but wasn’t sure what to do with it until Tasha came to me. They are conveniently unavailable for comment at this time, so they won’t be able to verify. But the Tollenson’s used to be regulars at a bar in Shoreline.”
Ben nodded and logged the information with an almost absent manner.
“You didn’t mention Errickson in front of her,” Ben commented, his gaze never leaving his boss.
“The only people who know about that side of Errickson are generally thugs and law enforcement,” Henry said coldly. “He keeps a nice contingent of presidents and VP’s from his various organizations around him at all times. Our latest intel on him suggests that he’s importing illegals to work in his manufacturing plants. One of which, he is trying to convince the Narrows people, is legit and above board and well capable of meeting their stringent requirements.”
“Sheffield and Rollins aren’t beginners,” Ben cited, thinking of two of the main owners of the Narrows.
“No. And Sheffield already knows he won’t be accepting anything from Errickson Industries, but for the moment, at my request, he’s stringing them along,” Henry leaned back in his chair, his hands tented over his chest. He paused and reached for the laptop on his desk, turning it to face Ben.
“Errickson?”
“Alexander Errickson on your far left. Behind him, almost making himself look unimportant, Thomas Errickson.”
“Who’s the blonde? I saw her here. In the elevator on my way to your office,” Ben leaned in, perched on the edge of his seat and staring. “She doesn’t belong there and it tells itself in every inch of her face.”
“Spring Errickson. Daughter,” Henry reclined again, his hands folded and fingers tapping. “She’s mostly been raised by her mother and grandparents in Norway. About five years ago, she was seen as the spokesperson for all things charitable from Errickson. And I mean all. Think Princess Diana without the Prince. If there is one good thing in Errickson’s business dealings, it’s what she’d doing with that department. As to why…I don’t know. Because the few times I’ve seen her…if she’s with either her brother or father, unhappy doesn’t even begin to cover her expressions.”
“I almost started a brawl in your elevator,” Ben admitted reluctantly. “She smiled at me and him…” he tapped the screen over Alexander’s image. “Grabbed her arm and said something that had her immediately lower her eyes to the floor and nod.”
“I’ll have to put out some feelers and find out why they were here. I’m going to guess it might have something to do with forcing themselves into the Narrows reclamation,” Henry stared at his younger friend.
“Has anyone ever approached her? Or spoken to her relatives outside the US?”
“We believe…Errickson threatened her mother and grandparents,” Henry exhaled slowly. “Errickson has a PR department that works full time to make him come across as altruistic and all about the people. I don’t doubt for a second that if he felt she had become a liability, she’d vanish with some lavish explanation about needing privacy or some such nonsense.”
“And you believe Errickson is involved in this academy,” Ben Murphy leaned back, ankles crossed and hands behind his head.
“Picking and choosing from the best, brightest young minds he can buy. Unscrupulous parents.”
“You delight in making my last case a crazy one, right?”
“Not crazy,” Henry said with a laugh. “Just…complicated.”