Chapter 25 #3
Zin grimaces. “Unfortunately, we can make some assumptions about where that person is coming from, though.” When she looks at me, I see the same resignation in her eyes that I feel myself.
“Sophie’s House,” she says quietly. “It has to be coming from there. Nobody else in my organization has access to their computer system, or anything about the operations we run.”
She masks it well, but I can see the hurt lurking behind her eyes, and it fucking kills me.
“I’m sorry, Zin.”
She lifts a shoulder. “It is what it is, I guess.” Inhaling deeply, she fixes me with her professional expression. “So—when will Paddy report back?”
“I’m due to meet him at my place this afternoon.” I hold her eyes. “Why don’t I tell you about it over dinner, at my apartment?”
Her eyes flare, and for a tense moment I think she’s going to dodge the question. “I’ve got a better idea,” she says. “Why don’t I cook for you?”
My poker face must have failed me, because a moment later she raises an indignant eyebrow at me. “What? You think I can’t cook?”
“Hey.” I lift my palms in surrender. “I absolutely never said that—”
“Because I can.” She pulls out her phone and starts ordering ingredients.
“I have absolutely no doubt.” I’m battling the urge to laugh, which does nothing to improve her indignation.
“I assume you eat steak,” she says tartly.
I incline my head, still grinning. “Absolutely.”
“Fine.” She glares at me over the screen. “Charlie is driving me. We’ll pick you up on the way home.” She flushes suddenly. “I mean—unless you want to—that is, it’s up to you, I guess. You don’t have to stay the night.”
Now I’m really struggling not to laugh.
I stand and walk over to the table, leaning down in front of her to pick up the tablet. She goes suddenly still, quivering like a deer in the forest.
I drop my hand to her leg and slowly trace the length of her bared thigh, inhaling her heady scent like the foreplay it is. “Oh, I’m definitely staying the night.” I put my mouth close to her ear. “Because what I have planned will take time, privacy, and a hell of a lot less clothing than this.”
“Your man Bogdan Kozlov is quite the piece of shit, o chara.” Paddy pulls up a stool by my kitchen counter, beer in hand.
“Somehow I’m not surprised.” I try not to look at my watch. Paddy was supposed to be here by four. It’s nearly six, and Zinaida will be here any minute. “So what did you find?”
“Minos looks clean on the surface. Big warehouses—which I’ll come back to—solid corporate structure, and, especially since they expanded into the online market a few years ago, excellent cash turnover.
” He knocks off his beer and helps himself to another one from my fridge.
“Problem is, Kozlov himself has fuck all to do with any of it.”
“He’s a front?”
Paddy nods. “His name is on the paperwork, but Kozlov himself is as back-end as you can get. He runs the delivery end. Gourmet hampers, catering for private parties. Runs an entire fleet of vans all over the damned city.” He throws a rather sour look at his mud-covered bike leathers, which he discarded in the corner on arrival, before he helped himself to a beer, a hot shower, and a change of clothes from my closet.
“Deliveries, huh?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Aye. Thing is, Kozlov does his deliveries after dark, and he drops off a lot more than just hampers and hors d’oeuvres.
” Paddy finds a leftover pasta dish in my fridge and puts it in the microwave.
“From what I can make out, Kozlov provides the full twisted service, from party drugs to party girls. It’s a great front.
Nobody looks twice at a catering van. And no doubt the casual observer would assume that the girls carrying the platters inside are there to wait on the guests. ”
I frown. “Where is he keeping the girls? Niamh’s team tracked the vans from Avonmouth as far as Reading, then lost them.”
“That’s where our man is a clever little fucker—and,” he adds, scowling, “how I got covered in bloody mud. Minos’s warehouse block in Reading has underground storage with vehicle access.
He stores his entire fleet down there, and loads and off-loads undercover and out of sight.
Guess who does the security for the entire block? ”
“Let me guess: Lowbridge Inc.”
“Ding ding ding.” Paddy raises his beer to me. “Which means it’s as hard to get inside as your girl Charlie. Which is saying something,” he adds, grinning as he tucks into the pasta. “Christ, she’s stubborn.”
“Knowing you as I do, I’d call her smart, myself,” I say dryly. “But you did get inside the warehouse, I take it?”
He grimaces. “Not exactly. I’d need either Mak-level hacking equipment or a duffel bag full of HMX.
” His eyes gleam at the mention of High Melting Explosive, his favorite toy.
“The warehouses are on an isolated block surrounded by high tensile wire. I had to hole up in a nearby ditch and rely on surveillance, and even then, I got fuck all since the vans have no windows. The only reason I know there were girls inside them is because I watched the unloading process at the private houses. But even then, things are hard to track.”
“Why?”
Paddy meets my eyes, his grin fading. “Because it’s a one-way service, cock. The vans don’t come back to pick the girls up after the party is done.”
There’s a brief silence while he eats and I process what he’s just said.
“Are you telling me,” I say eventually, “that the girls never make it out of those houses?”
“Didn’t say that, exactly.” Paddy holds up a finger as he sucks spaghetti in, flicking sauce all over the counter.
“The girls leave, but not with Kozlov. They leave one by one, in limousines with a party guest or in chauffeur-driven cars. I’d have needed a whole team to track where they go after that. ”
“So you’re saying that these so-called parties are what—a point of sale?”
“Looks that way.” He nods. “And like I said, Kozlov is a clever fucker. He’s not storing girls for long, and if he’s keeping them in the Reading warehouse, he must have a secret compartment, because by day, Minos is one-hundred-percent legitimate.
Unless he’s trusting a staff of dozens with his illegal side hustle, none of the day workers know a thing about it.
His night crew are another matter altogether.
They’re the ugliest pack of wife-beater-wearing, bad-haircut thugs I’ve ever seen—and I come from feckin’ Belfast.” He dumps the empty pasta bowl in the sink.
“Good to see you can still cook up a decent feed, cock.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” I say absently, still turning over what he’s said. “Did you get any pictures of Kozlov?”
Paddy shoots me a derisive stare. “It’s what you’re paying me for, no?” He throws a hard drive onto the counter. “It’s all there. Photos of Kozlov and his crew, of the vans, the girls and the private houses. I’ve included the addresses and a schematic of the warehouse.”
“Good man.” I tap the hard drive thoughtfully. “I’ll get one of Mak’s cyber experts to hack into their systems, see what we can find.”
“Pity you didn’t have it when you met up on your little jaunt down to Spain.” He gives me a sly look.
“It is.” I ignore the bait. “Are you planning on drinking out my entire fridge, or do you have a home to go to?”
Paddy’s eyebrows rise. “Trying to get rid of me, cock?”
Yes, you prick.
“Well,” he says, standing up and shooting me another shit-stirring grin, “since you’re clearly not going to spill the beans, I’m going to head to the Quartier.”
“After days of running surveillance?” I give him a rather surprised look. “I thought you’d be heading straight to bed.”
“Not when that tough bitch Charlie is waiting for me to come in and make her life hell.” Paddy’s grin is positively evil.
Not yet, she isn’t. I’m beginning to regret not making my own way to Zinaida’s. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to give her the chance to back out, and I’m certainly not changing plans now. I try not to look at my phone.
“Anyway,” Paddy is saying, “it’s your fault I’m chasing thrills.
” He shoots me a baleful look. “You promised this job would be dangerous. So far I haven’t even had a chance to blow shit up, which leaves me looking for a different kind of action.
Not that I’m getting any,” he goes on gloomily.
“Bloody Charlie won’t even let me screw any of the hostesses, and believe me, there’s a smorgasbord on offer. ”
“Good for Charlie. And I already told you to keep your grubby hands off my staff. The last thing Zin needs is a harassment suit.”
“Oh, come on, man.” He gives me an indignant look. “It’s me fighting them off, not the other way around.”
“The sad thing is,” I say, shaking my head, “I know you’re telling the truth, even if I’ll never understand what the hell they see in you. Although I would like to know what magic Charlie is working to make you behave.”
“You know, I wish I could work that out meself.” Paddy looks genuinely confused. “She’s just got a way with her, you know? She says no, and for some reason, I do what I’m bloody told. Me mam would never believe it, I tell you.”
My phone lights up with a message from Zin: We’re almost at your place.
I slide the phone surreptitiously beneath the counter and type one-handed: Paddy still here. Cut a lap.
Paddy looks between my phone and me, his eyes narrowing. “Speaking of behaving,” he says slyly, “did the lovely Miss Melikov ever make it home after Spain? Nobody saw hide nor hair of either of you after you got off the plane.”
Because our hides were butt naked in my bed, and Zin’s hair was tangled on my pillow.
And despite all that is happening, the only thing I can think about right now is doing it again, as soon as possible.
My phone lights up again, this time with a message from Charlie: Why am I doing laps, McTasty?
I tap out my one-word response: Security.
“Well, a man can take a hint.” Paddy raises his eyebrows suggestively as he grabs his jacket and heads for the door. “I’d say have fun, cock, but my guess is you already have, so I’ll just say keep it up instead.”
He scarpers out the door before I can kick his arse through it. “By the way,” he calls as he goes, “get my leathers dry-cleaned, would you?”