Chapter 19 Kingston
Kingston
My phone rings, pulling me out of the chaotic jumble of export documents sitting on the top of my desk.
With my focus on a mass of numbers, I answer it. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Boss. You got a sec?” It’s Diece.
“Not really. What is it?” My tone is sharp. To the point. I’ve got shit to do.
“Lou just gave me an updated registration list for the tournament.” Lou is a fucking computer guru. If I need something that can be found on the internet, he finds it.
Tugging on the tie around my neck that feels like a noose more than an accessory, I ask, “And?”
“As far as I can see, there aren’t any traffickers other than Burlone who are planning on participating, which means he’s only trying to cover his own ass with this stunt and not anyone else’s.”
“Good,” I grunt. “So there’s no one of interest who’s registered so far?”
With a subtle clearing of his throat, an uncomfortable Diece continues, “A few rich boys from the South, a bigshot entrepreneur from the East, a professional poker player who thinks he stands a chance against Burlone from the West, and….” His voice trails off, piquing my curiosity.
“And?” I sit back in my chair, giving the conversation at hand my full attention.
“And your little spy. Is there a reason she registered an hour ago?”
With flared nostrils, I try to maintain a semblance of control. “Can you repeat that, D?” My white knuckles squeeze the phone in my hand, threatening to break it.
“Yeah. Acely Mezzerich registered for the poker tournament an hour ago at Sin. She used an alias, Macey Johnson. But the fake name wouldn’t hold up for more than five minutes for anyone who was looking.
She must’ve bought the fake ID from an inexperienced junkie, though I doubt she could afford a good one.
Anyway, I had Lou pull up the security tapes, and sure enough, it’s your girl.
By your reaction, I assume you didn’t know she was planning on participating? ”
A low growl rumbles in my chest as I grit out, “No. Seems my little wild card and I need to have a chat.”
With a click, I disconnect the call.