12. The Fontaines are in Trouble
Chapter 12
The Fontaines are in Trouble
Rebel
I ’m beginning to wonder if Wireever sleeps. Next to Falcon, he’s always the last guy out of the office and he has the farthest to go to reach his sanctuary. I tease him all the time, calling him Batman. Wire’s home is so deep in the woods that you’d never find it if he didn’t lead you to it himself. Well, anyone who isn’t part of the team wouldn’t find it. Since we all know Wire so well, the place he built for himself makes total sense to us.
The outside looks like a typical log cabin, but a layer of reinforced steel was installed before the inside walls were constructed to ensure security. Wire has so many security cameras that a squirrel couldn’t get by without being caught.
Inside, there’s a regular kitchen, a living room, and so on, but one end of the basement is wall-to-wall computers, screens, and techno-shit that I couldn’t explain even if I wanted to. The other side is a home gym, replicated from the one at the Storm office.
Wire was never a small guy. When we met him, he was big and bulky and clumsy. He was young and scared, but he joined the army because he wanted to get an education, which wasn’t something his parents could afford with three other kids to look after. Wire is the youngest, and each of the brothers and their sister had to find their own way.
His parents are good, wholesome people who raised their kids right. They showered their kids with love and gave them what they could. One Christmas, the Reids insisted that I join them for Christmas because they knew I’d be alone. My sisters were too far away, and we only had a three-day pass. The house was packed with his younger sister and two older brothers and their families, or significant others, but they found room for me.
I saw a side of Colton Wire Reid that night that I hadn’t seen before. Colton came into the army not knowing what he wanted, but we soon found out how brilliant he is with computers. Falcon saw it and nurtured his thirst for knowledge. Wire attended every course offered, but he was a natural talent and exceeded all expectations, making him top of the class.
During those three days with his family, Wire never once mentioned what he was doing. He was just another man serving his country, and that was all. He let his brothers talk themselves up about how well they were doing and celebrated their success with them and listened to his sister’s dream of owning her own salon one day, and never said a word. He did, however, send her a lump sum of money to put a deposit on a shop in the business part of town.
On our way back to base, I asked him why he never told his family about his accomplishments. His answer was simple: “They never asked.” I looked back on our trip and recalled that they all asked how he was doing and hugged him, and they talked for hours about everyone else’s shit, but he’s right, they didn’t ask.
He saw I was getting pissed and quickly added, “I’m in a war zone ninety-nine percent of the time. They’re afraid to know what I do on a daily basis. It’s fine. I’d rather they didn’t know.”
I’m still not sure I understand, but I respect his decision to deal with his family in his own way.
Wire works hard and works out harder, and occasionally, I’ve seen him with beautiful women. None lasted long, but who the hell am I to talk? Up till Sadie, I was exactly the same.
“Bro, do you ever sleep?” I ask as I step into his office.
He smirks. “Occasionally.”
“You’re making me look bad,” I joke.
“Unlikely.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve done some preliminary background checking on Professor Mitchell Fontaine. I thought we could go over it, then decide on how to divide and conquer.”
“Let’s get to it,” I say, coming closer to his desk.
“Falcon first. He’ll be here in five minutes,” he tells me.
“Boardroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Coffee?” I offer.
“Hell, yeah.” He smiles at me.
I plod down the hall, past Kailyn’s empty office, to find her in the break room.
“Hey, gorgeous, how’re you doing? No Phoenix today?” I greet her. Phoenix is usually near or around Kailyn when he’s in the office.
“He’s with your other brother Bull. They’re meeting up with the tech company that asked us to look into a leak. The company was undermined on several project contracts. They lost two supposedly surefire bids. The CEO realized the files were tampered with. Phoenix and Bull are probably with him right now,” Kailyn says, glancing at her watch. “How are things with you and Sadie?” she asks, waggling her brows.
“You’re a goof,” I say, ignoring her question and pouring two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar the way Wire likes it, then making my own. “Sadie’s great. She heard from her interview at the hospital. She got the job.”
“That’s awesome! We should celebrate,” Kailyn exclaims, clapping her hands.
“Sure thing. We’ll plan something.” I lift the coffee cups. “Falcon and Wire are waiting for me.”
“I’ll call Sadie in a while to congratulate her,” she says.
“She’ll appreciate it.”
As I predicted, Wire is waiting for me just outside the boardroom, which means Falcon is inside. I hand Wire his coffee and follow him in.
“Morning, Rebel,” Falcon says, already seated, looking through the file of information Wire and I have collected on Mitchell Fontaine.
“Hey.” I sit down on one side while Wire is on the other.
“Who wants to start?” Falcon asks.
“I’ll go. Wire and I split up Mitchell’s life into home and work. I’m looking into his family, friends, and neighborhood. I’m saving family for last. If this guy is on the run, his family isn’t going to give him up. Mitchell is not tight with his neighbors. Mainly keeps to himself. They see him come home late most nights, up until the night he disappeared. His neighbor Pete owns the house across the street from him, said that the next morning, his wife reported him missing, Mitchell came home but didn’t go inside. He made it all the way to the front porch, took a phone call, and got back in his car,” I say, pointing to the page with Pete’s interview.
Falcon scans the page. “Just got in his car and left, huh?”
“Not quite. He went into the garage first. He didn’t open it like you normally would. He went in through the side door. I think to keep his wife from hearing him come in. Pete says Mitchell was in and out within minutes and gone,” I report. “I want to get in that garage to take a look around.”
Falcon nods. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, Mitchell’s wife, Mary, hasn’t left the house since reporting him missing. Her neighbor Emmanuela goes in to check on her, makes sure she eats, but says Mary is worried sick about her husband. It’s not this guy’s MO. Mitchell’s a ‘good guy.’” I use air quotes.
He raises his brows. “You don’t think he is?”
“I’ve seen enough to reserve judgment until I know more,” I say, and Wire makes a sound that says he agrees.
“So, the guy goes to work, like always. Comes home at the same time every night. Except that night, when he gets a mysterious phone call, which puts Mitchell back in his car, and he goes MIA,” Falcon sums up.
“One more thing. Mitchell and Mary have a daughter. She’s in her midtwenties, and no one seems to be able to get hold of her, but her mother hasn’t reported her missing,” I tell them, making Falcon perk up and tap his pen on the table.
I shuffle through the papers in the file and pick out the photo of Remmi Anne Fontaine. She’s a looker. Totally the girl next door, with long, shiny, chestnut hair that’s straight as an arrow, parted in the middle, with sun-kissed skin and a dusting of barely noticeable freckles on her nose. In the photo, she’s wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and is nuzzling a puppy that seems to adore her.
“What the fuck!” Wire swears. “Why the fuck didn’t her own mother get in touch with the cops?” He’s annoyed, and I get it. You get riled when you discover a mother losing her mind over her husband but not their kid. Doesn’t make a lot of sense.
“What do we know about Remmi?” Falcon asks calmly.
“Not a lot. Graduated top of her class. She’s an art major who prefers the country life and moved out to a cottage an hour away from her parents, where she makes and sells her own pottery and shit. She’s popular in the county and makes a decent living for herself. Sings at a bar every now and again, more for fun than for the money. She’s well-liked. No one had a bad word to say about her,” I say with a shrug.
“What? So, Remmi goes missing and no one gives a shit?” Wire is raising his voice and becoming more heated. “Anyone heard from her?”
“I asked around. Her voicemail says she’s taking some time off and would be in touch when she returns. The owner of the bar says he got an email saying she was taking a break. No close friends to speak of. The woman’s a loner, mostly,” I reply.
“They got his daughter. That’s why Mitchell went willingly,” Falcon says.
“Who is ‘they’?” I ask.
“That’s a good question.” Falcon glances from Wire to me. “We’ve got to get to the mother.”
“She won’t leave her house and she refuses to see anyone but Emmanuela. She hardly returns calls from the cops,” I say.
“I’ll do a background check on Emmanuela,” Wire states. He’s about to leave when Falcon grabs his arm.
“Tell me about the company he worked for and what Mitchell’s job entailed,” Falcon orders.
Wire tosses out a hand toward the file. “It’s all in there. You can read it while?—”
“Stop,” Falcon says. “You’re losing focus, and that’s not going to work out well for anyone. You did the research. I want to hear it from you. Then we decide next steps. Understood?”
Begrudgingly, Wire sits down, scraping his chair against the floor. “The company gathers information from the stock exchange and other worldwide financial organizations for research only. They’re looking at developing a method of predicting future financial growth opportunities. Mitchell is an analyst and a damn good one. He has a genius IQ and sees patterns that no one else seems to be able to. He was hired by GWO International over ten years ago. Valued employee, likes to work alone, has a set schedule, and they let him have whatever he needs to get the job done because he gets the job done. He’s been working on their new venture for the past two years, then poof, he’s gone.”
“The company’s reaction?” Falcon asks.
“They want him back at any cost. They’re the ones who hired us, and the CEO will open any door he can to make it happen. The entire company will give us anything we need,” Wire responds.
“Right. Then Wire, do your background check on Emmanuela. Then I want you to find a way to get to the wife, Mary. You’ve got to do it so that if anyone is watching the house, it doesn’t look like she snitched. Come up with a plan, then pull me in,” Falcon decides. “In the meantime, Rebel, go to GWO and copy all the employee files. Speak only to the CEO and get that info back to our office. Wire’s going to write a code to see if anything weird sticks out.”
“On my way,” I say, getting to my feet. Falcon does the same and leaves. Wire gathers up papers before tossing them back into the file, except for Remmi’s photo. He lays that carefully on top. “Are you okay?” I ask Wire.
“Yeah,” he replies curtly.
“Do you have your head on right?”
He raises his eyes to mine and lets out a heavy breath. “They put an innocent woman in the middle of their shit.”
“Mitchell seems to be a victim too.”
“Yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Let’s hope we find them before it’s too late and they’re no longer necessary in their plan.”
I nod. “Be back as soon as I can.”
The lobby of GWO International oozes wealth and prestige. The front desk is white marble, the floor a patterned deep gray, and the hanging paintings are modern and vibrant. Everyone is dressed like a model out of Vogue magazine, with clothes that must cost a mint and so perfectly groomed that if a windstorm blew through the building, it would cause a major ruckus.
I walk directly to the woman sitting behind the front desk. “Phineas Hamstead. Tell him Rebel from Storm is here to see him,” I tell the woman, who seems taken aback to see a man in jeans, combat boots, and short-sleeved Henley standing before her.
“Is Mr. Hamstead expecting you?” she asks with a dubious look. This is the kind of woman who just pisses me off. One look and she’s decided I’m not worth her time or her boss’s time.
“Look, precious, Hamstead is going to want to see me. If you force me to call my boss to make it happen, it’s not going to go well for you,” I warn. Her name tag says her name is Cora. “Cora, get your boss on the phone and tell him I’m here.”
Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the phone, and I can see she’s still not sure she’s doing the right thing. She dials, then speaks into the receiver. “Mr. Hamstead, I have a gentleman in the lobby. Rebel from Storm.” There’s a slight pause before she goes on to say, “Right away, sir.” Embarrassment washes over her face. “Mr. Hamstead would like for you to go straight up to his office. He’s on the twentieth floor. There’s a private elevator down the end of the hall. His security team will meet you and take you up.” Cora clears her throat, then genuinely says, “I’m very sorry. Please accept my apology.”
I give her a smile. “No problem. Some people wear Armani, some wear jeans, which doesn’t make one more important than the other. Catch you later, Cora.”
She smiles back, seemingly relieved, and gives me a little wave before I follow her directions down the hall to the elevator.
Phineas Hamstead is waiting for me as I get off the elevator. He’s not nearly as old as I thought he’d be, maybe forty, at most. He’s tall and slim, with glasses, and dressed like a man born to be in a business suit. Phineas looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, and his sandy brown hair is anything but perfect.
“Rebel. I’m Phineas Hamstead. Let’s just go to my office before we begin.” We move through double doors, where yet another reception desk sits with another woman answering phones. She glances up as we pass. “Bianca, hold my calls.” Phineas walks through to his office, which occupies most of the floor. Instead of going to sit behind his desk, Phineas takes a seat on a leather sofa and gestures for me to take a seat as well. “What can I do to help?” he instantly offers.
My gut feeling is that this is a good guy, and this situation has him stressed to the max. “Mr. Hamstead, can you give me a bit more history on how Mitchell came to work for you?”
“My father originally hired Mitchell. He saw his genius, and honestly, the guy is incredible at his job. He’s socially awkward but a great employee. He’s been with the company for over ten years. Dad has always given Mitchell his space, and he made the company very wealthy. Mitchell saved us millions in lost revenue. He catches problems and can produce solutions to offset any possible challenges. Dad retired four years ago, and I’ve been working directly with Mitchell since then. I gave him the same wide berth as my father did, and everything seemed good. Then, one day, he came up to my office and said that the new international banking computer system had a flaw and there was a possibility of hacking that would cost the company its reputation and could bring about a major international crisis. I asked him what it was, and he said he needed more time but wanted me to put the project on hold. I told him I could push the board for two more weeks. He seemed good with that, then poof”—he snaps his fingers—“Mitchell’s gone.”
“His wife—” I start.
“Won’t talk to me.” He shakes his head. “Or my father, who happens to be Remmie’s godfather. I’ve tried contacting Remmie. No response.” He puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“You need to take a breath.”
He lifts his head. “First, I like Mitchell, and if he’s in trouble, I want him back safe and sound. Then there’s a possibility of an international incident that’ll blow this company up, and thousands of people are going to be jobless. I’ve got a week left before I have to go public to the board.” His voice cracks. Phineas is barely holding his shit together.
“Right. Then let’s not waste any more time. We have some ideas. What I need from you is a copy of your entire employee files. You think you have seven days? My gut says you don’t. Get me what I need, and not a word to anyone. The fewer people who know, the better the chance of not tipping anyone off.”
Phineas doesn’t bat an eye. “Follow me.” He leads me to the bookcase and hits a button hidden behind a painting that opens a panel. “If you get your guy on the phone, he can take whatever he needs. I’ll give him access to whatever he wants.”
For the next hour, Phineas, Wire, Falcon, and I work together to copy files over for Wire to work his magic on, after which I get back in my car and drive back to Storm.
Wire says, “Everyone I’ve spoken to about Mitchell says his wife is devoted to him and is so traumatized by his disappearance, she can hardly speak. This Emmanuela woman shows up whenever anyone comes to see her, including the cops. She’s in all the reports as being present at every interview.”
“What about the background check?” I ask while Falcon is going over the police reports that Wire’s been able to get his hands on.
“So far, not much. She came to the United States to go to college. She ended up staying and working in a bank up until last year, and then she took a job working from home for a company called Del Torres. She’s listed as a business consultant. Here’s something interesting. Del Torres’s head office is in Mexico, where Emmanuela came from,” Wire adds, his fingers tapping furiously on the keyboard.
The information pops up on the screen. Del Torres is an investment company dealing with wealth management and is known to have ties with the Mexican cartel.
“She’s a plant,” I say. “How long has she been living next to the Fontaines?”
Wire pulls up another screen with the record of the purchase of Emmanuela’s house. “Two years. Bought and paid for by Del Torres.”
“Fuck! This is all starting to come together,” I say. There’s a ping, and Wire moves to the computers he’s set up to go through all the employee files.
“Emmanuela interviewed with GWO and didn’t get the job. The records show anyone who works there or has been interviewed,” Wire relays.
“Does it say why she didn’t get the job?” Falcon asks.
“Says here, ‘Emmanuela has the skill set for the position of executive assistant; however, she did not pass the personality assessment for the position,’” Wire reads out.
“Rebel and I need to find a way into the Fontaine home without Emmanuela seeing us. I have a feeling Mary is a prisoner in her own home. And if we don’t figure out where they’re keeping Mitchell and Remmi, once they become dispensable, they’re going to take them out,” Falcon says.
“You think Del Torres is behind this?” I ask.
“I think it goes deeper than the company. I think a boss in the Mexican cartel is trying to take down GWO and planning a takeover of the company. GWO has the investment accounts of many of the world’s leaders. That’s a mighty powerful reason to take their genius analyst,” Falcon says.
“Makes a lot of sense, but no proof,” I remind him.
“Time to find a way to get to Mary. Alone,” Wire says, expelling a heavy breath.
“You keep working. Falcon and I are on it,” I say. “We better hurry. The Fontaines are in trouble.”