Chapter 10
Con stared at the camera, watching the man who was watching traffic in front of the building.
“Who do you think he’s waiting for?” Jewell asked.
“I don’t have a clue,” Fury answered. “Who would try to get to H?”
“Besides Archambeau? Maybe they’re watching for someone who wants to find Ysabel?” Jewell mused.
“Like who? The mother? She was the one who warned her daughter.” Fury sounded contemplative, too.
Jewell made a dismissive sound. “She’s dead, right? And she only warned Ysabel about Abrasha, right?”
Fury sighed. “I haven’t seen the documents. I can’t make that assumption, but that is what Harbinger said.”
Con tapped his fingers on the desktop. “So, assuming the documents held information on AM, why would they target this building?”
“Was Ysabel staying with H? I mean, were they living together? They were close before she broke things off,” Jewell asked.
“No clue,” Con said.
“Go look in his closet,” Fury snapped.
“Dude, you want me to invade the privacy of an elite assassin, who, by the way, can change his appearance to look like someone totally different. That is so not cool.” Con stood up and made his way out of the comm room.
“Just fucking do it,” Fury barked.
“I am. Shit, chill out,” Con snapped back. “Bossy asshole.”
Jewell sighed, “Boys, do I need to tell your moms?”
God, no. He rolled his eyes as he wandered down the hall and peeked into a door. Nope. Linen storage. He kept going and opened another. A massive room with a king-sized bed and an ensuite bathroom. Crossing the hall, he opened another door. There were clothes, both male and female. “Female clothing,” Con said and headed into the bathroom. He opened several cabinets. “Perfume, makeup, jewelry. Yep, she was living here or staying over regularly.”
“Could the mother be alive?” Jewell asked. “Think about it. We have a death certificate, but do we know for a fact she’s dead?”
“Banshee is in Switzerland,” Fury said. “Let me get him to do some looking around. There have to be records from a funeral home or a person who signed the death certificate. Dead bodies don’t usually go unnoticed.” Fury sighed. “Other than the mother, who would want to get to Harbinger, and why?”
“Ysabel,” Con said.
“But if her father put her into the catacombs and is part of this mess …” Jewell let the statement trail.
“Shit, just suppose … What if the father didn’t, and he actually has people trying to find her down there like we do?” Fury brought up an interesting point.
Con doubted that premise, though. “Dude, then who told the Corsican Mafia to stand down?”
“Someone with more pull with the boss than Archambeau,” Fury replied.
“Like?” Con could see what the asshole was talking about now, but damn, what a double-cross on Ysabel’s father.
“Abrasha,” Jewell supplied. “By all accounts, he has the Russian Mafia wrapped around his finger. If one faction reached out to the other and requested a favor? That’s a plausible scenario.”
Fury made a sound of agreement. “I’ll reach out to our resident Mafia specialist and see if they can pull some strings.”
“Phoenix?” Jewell snorted. “I think he burned all his bridges. Literally.”
Fury gave that eerie, evil laugh of his. “True, but I wasn’t thinking about him. I was thinking of Taty. She still has connections in the Russian Mafia. Her contemporaries have risen since she’s gone silent, but she keeps tabs on several people.”
Con sat in one of the living room chairs and kicked his feet up on the fancy-looking coffee table. The golden cat that had fled from the kitchen sat on the sofa across from him and stared at him suspiciously. Con stared back at it and asked, “So, what does she do? Ask if Abrasha has plans on killing his daughter?”
“No, asshole, she asks if Abrasha is calling in favors and from whom. They’d never talk about anything concrete,” Fury snapped at him.
“So sorry, my Mafia etiquette is lacking. What do you want us to do?” He would get twitchy if he didn’t have a project. He might figure out how to make Fury’s private cell phone play obnoxious music or something. A smirk plastered itself across his face. Or something.
“Get Harbinger everything you can on Pierre Archambeau. Flack and CCS are following Molchalin and his other daughter’s trail. I want to know what color underwear he’s wearing. But that’s your side gig. Jewell, your organization’s primary mission is to monitor what’s going on with Archambeau’s crypto heist. Counter the theft if necessary and reroute the crypto after it’s transferred.”
“He has fiber, and the computer systems are not linked,” Jewell interjected.
“Would he have thieves working out of his supposedly legit business? If someone tracked the access back to him …” Fury asked.
Con leaned forward. “Jewell, we can see what property he owns and which we’d pick if we were setting up a covert operation.”
“That’s right. And we could cross reference with any work done such as cable installation or new power requirements. They’d need supercomputer access, so we’d also need to check with the government of France to see if they’ve greenlighted the sale of any to private entities.” Jewell was typing as Con headed back through the house.
He started jogging to get to his system faster. “You take the government. I’ve got the property records, and I’ll start working on Archambeau. I’m going to see what property Abrasha has in Paris, too, just in case.”
“Good call. Check under all their shell companies and both of AM’s daughters’ names. Bad people don’t care if their kids get caught in shit,” Jewell told him.
“Yep. Talk later.” His mind was racing with ideas and ways to circumvent the tech the guy must have to break into those fobs. God, he loved a challenge.
“Got it. Clear,” Jewell said.
“And I’m clear if anyone cares.” Fury sighed and hung up. Con barked out a laugh. The asshole was kind of comical for a grumpy, old, curmudgeonly assassin.