29. Phoenix
Phoenix
A fter the shocker Michaela dropped into my lap, I needed to make an urgent call. After a quick shower, breakfast, and coffee, we’re both seated side-by-side on the sofa, our eyes glued to my iPhone placed on the coffee table as it rings.
“Phoenix,” Bryce says when he picks up.
“I hope I’m not calling too early?”
“Not at all,” he says. “Are you calling to reschedule our dinner plans?”
I wouldn’t call Bryce Van Der Linden a close friend. He’s more of a secret weapon. He used to live in California. He now lives in the Big Apple. It just so happens we’re both in Paris at the same time. We were set to meet later this week for dinner with Michaela, but this can’t wait.
Bryce runs one of the most important internet security companies in the world.
We’ve been using his services for years.
On the tail of a fairly high-profile case surrounding his wife, he branched out, and now he also specializes in all sorts of white-collar crimes.
He and his team of experts can track anyone, anywhere.
He saves us several millions of dollars every single year with his cyber-intelligence.
“No, we’re still on.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting Mrs. Konig.”
“Speaking of which, you’re on speaker phone. Michaela is here with me.”
“Ah, the new bride,” Bryce says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Konig.”
“So formal.” She laughs. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Bryce.”
“I can’t wait to meet you in person, Michaela.”
“Same here. Phoenix speaks highly of you.”
I wink at her.
She smiles.
“I’m honored,” he says. “Congratulations, Michaela, on snatching a certified bachelor.”
“Takes one to know one,” I say.
“I’m not even going to argue with you. No complaints on my part. I love my wife,” he says. “So, how can I help you?”
“I may have a situation on my hands,” I say. “In fact, I’m certain of it.”
“Words I love to hear,” he says. “I’m all ears.”
“Do you remember Brock Litoris?”
“Yes, the assistant who was feeding company information to your biggest rival and sabotaging your credibility,” Bryce says.
“The one and only,” I say, sarcasm weighing heavy.
“Is he back in the picture?”
“He’ll always be in the picture given who he works for––”
“I hate that we were never able to nab him or Ripley,” Bryce says.
“The sneaky rats were miles ahead of us.”
Years go by, but the sting doesn’t lessen. Nor does the crushing humiliation of being blindsided.
I despise Brock Litoris.
And I darn right hate Ripley.
I’m sure Brock told Ripley we contracted Bryce’s services. This gave them a leg up. Few con artists outsmart Bryce and his team. The Three Stooges––Brock, Ripley, and Marie-Clémence––knew from the get-go to never share any incriminating information on our networks.
“So, what did Brock do now?”
Bryce signs a DNA with all his clients, so I have the peace of mind of knowing this conversation isn’t going anywhere.
I tell him about bumping into Brock and MC last night.
I turn it to Michaela and she recounts what she told me this morning.
I tie it all together by telling Bryce about recently purchasing the Villiers Grand Hotel. I leave out details about our fake marriage.
“It seems Brock has moved on,” Bryce says when I’m finished.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We have a leak within our organization. Again.”
Bryce grumbles. “Well, this time it’s not Brock, which means there’s another weasel playing you.”
“I can’t shake the nagging feeling Ripley has his tentacles in one of our board members.”
“That’s a bold accusation,” Bryce says. “Board members are supposed to be on your side.”
“You would think,” I say.
I tell him all about Potter and what my father shared.
“You’re right, he knows too much,” Bryce says.
“Way too much.”