Chapter 27
GIANNI
The Meridian Group occupies a tower on West Thirty-Third, one of the newer supertalls that resembles a spear of glass jutting upward into the spring sky.
I stride into the massive, atrium-like lobby of the building and make a beeline the front desk. I give them Kylie Franks' name.
“You have an appointment?” one of desk attendants asks.
“Wouldn’t be bothering Ms. Franks if I didn’t.”
The appointment was made by Spackman this morning. It took a little of the sort of smooth-talking only he’s capable of, but he pulled it off. He had to use a fake name for me and a fake reason to be there, but sometimes you have to bend the rules a little to get what you want.
The desk attendant gives me a quick look of skepticism before checking her computer. “George Masters, of Masterworks Software?”
“That’s me. Wanted to see if I could talk Ms. Franks into switching to our routing software.”
Another skeptical look, then a few keystrokes. “Meridian’s IT department is on the thirtieth floor. Make sure this is visible on you at all times.”
She hands over a freshly printed pass and I take it, thanking her for her time. One elevator ride later, and I’m where I want to be.
The IT department is an open-plan sprawl of monitors and tangled cables and whiteboards covered in diagrams I couldn’t even begin to parse.
At the far end, in a glass-walled office barely bigger than a closet, Kylie Franks is sitting cross-legged on her desk chair with three monitors running and a pair of oversized headphones around her neck.
She's younger than I expected, looking about twenty-five. But she carries it like someone who skipped the uncertain parts of her twenties and went straight to competent.
Kylie looks up as I walk in. She takes me in—the suit, the watch, the general atmosphere of a man who doesn't belong in an IT department—and her expression settles into something between amusement and assessment.
"You're Gianni Russo," she says.
"I am."
She moves off the chair with a quick swing of her leg and stands, leaning against her desk with her arms crossed, the narrow-eyed expression on her face suggesting I’m a problem that needs solving. Everything about her body language suggests she doesn’t want me here.
“I could very easily have security here in, like, four seconds.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Her eyebrows lift a bit, as if she’d been expecting that threat to hit me harder.
“But that won’t be necessary,” I say.
“That remains to be seen. I assume this isn't a social visit.”
"It's not."
"I also assume Violet doesn't know you're here."
"Not yet."
"Interesting." She tilts her head, suggesting that in spite of herself, her interest has been piqued. "So, what does the head of the Camorra want with the IT director of a news publication?"
I almost smile. It amuses me how she knows exactly what I am, and how she says it without flinching. Violet chose her friends well.
"I want you to work for me," I say. "Off the books. Long-term. Starting immediately."
"I have a job."
"You'll keep your job. This is separate. After hours, weekends, whatever schedule works. I'll provide the resources—hardware, access, funding. Whatever you need."
"And what exactly would I be doing with these resources?"
"Taking Lance Dawson apart."
The name changes the temperature in the room. Kylie's expression doesn't shift, but something behind her eyes goes very still. It reminds me of how Violet reacts when she hears that name. These two have been carrying the same weight, in a sense.
"I've been digging into Lance on my own equipment for fourteen months," she says. "I built Violet’s identity, and I monitor that prick on a daily basis. I’ve got alerts on federal databases letting me know when anything changes with him. What makes you think anything you have can do more than this?”
“Yet, Lance arrived in town without your knowing.”
Her mouth forms into a flat line, and I know I’ve got her there.
"Your resources are good. Mine are better." I sit in the chair across from her desk, uninvited. "You're working with consumer-grade tools and whatever enterprise access your position here provides. I can provide you with better, the kind you wouldn’t lay your hands on without government clearance.”
“And you have access to this? How?”
“Because my operations require the latest and best. When not only money but freedom is on the line, you find yourself motivated to invest in cutting edge and to acquire it by any means necessary.”
She's quiet for a moment. Thinking. I can practically hear the calculations running.
"What's in it for you?" she asks. "And don't say Violet. I need to know the strategic angle."
"Dawson is leading a RICO investigation against me. He's using the case to get close to Violet. If I can discredit him, prove he's dirty, prove his evidence is tainted, prove his methods are illegal, the case collapses and Violet is safe."
"And your empire stays intact."
"And my empire stays intact."
She nods slowly. "I appreciate the honesty. "
"I don't have time for bullshit. I have six days until a grand jury hearing and a man who beat my—" I stop.
Recalibrate. "A man who beat Violet for three years is currently operating with full federal authority in my city.
I need someone who can find the evidence that takes him down, and everyone I've talked to says that person is you. "
"Everyone being Violet."
"Not just Violet. You have a hell of a professional reputation. There’s a reason you’re the youngest woman in the city sitting where you’re sitting. I told you I want the best and you’re the best.”
Kylie is quiet again. She turns to one of her monitors, pulls up something I can't see from this angle, and scrolls through it with the absent focus of someone whose hands process information independently of the conversation she's having.
"Tell me something," she says, not looking up. "How much do you actually know about her?"
"I know enough."
“You know what she’s told you. And you know what Spackman dug up, which is nothing—exactly what I built that identity to be.” She runs her hand through her hair, shaking her head in frustration. “And she never would’ve gotten made if I’d dirtied up her background like I’d wanted.”
She takes a slow breath, then flicks her gaze to me. “Did you know she’s the most talented writer I’ve ever read?”
“I’ve read her work. Her talent isn’t in question.”
“Did you know she was publishing essays in national magazines at twenty-one? That she gave up a real career in writing because a man convinced her she was worthless, then made sure she couldn’t leave?”
"She told me some of it."
"She didn't tell you the worst of it. She never does.
" Kylie's voice is steady, but there's something underneath it, an anger she’d been keeping in check that’s boiling to the surface.
"She downplays. She deflects. She makes jokes because if she stops being funny, she'll have to feel it, and feeling it almost killed her the first time. "
I sit with that, let it settle into everything else I know about Violet.
"I need to protect her," I say. "I can't do it without you."
"You could try."
"I could fail."
She studies me for a long moment. Whatever she's looking for, she either finds it or decides to take the gamble anyway.
"I have conditions."
"Name them."
"Everything I find goes to Violet first. Before you, before Spackman, before anyone. She sees it, she decides what to do with it. I'm not building another situation where a powerful man controls the information about her life."
"Agreed," I say.
"And if at any point I determine you're a threat to her—any kind of threat, for any reason—I disappear her again. New name, new city, and you'll never find her. I did it once with nothing. Imagine what I could do with your resources."
She says it without blinking or smiling. Not every woman can issue a threat like that to the head of the Camorra. It’s impressive and I believe every word.
"Agreed," I repeat.
She extends her hand and I take it. Her grip is brief and professional, and I can tell at that moment she’s still not even close to trusting me.
"When do I start?" she asks.
"You already have. I’ll be in touch.”
She purses her lips, as if giving the matter one more moment of thought, knowing there’s no going back after this. “Fine.”
“Looking forward to working with you, Miss Franks.”
“I’m doing this because of Violet, not because of whatever money you’re going to throw at me. Remember that.”
“I wouldn’t dream of forgetting.”
I leave The Meridian the same way I came in and am soon in the back of a car where Spackman is waiting. He looks at me in the rearview.
"Well?"
"She's in."