Chapter 30 #2
“So you’re not considering pressing charges for what he did?”
“I can’t. He filmed the negotiation part. He taped the whole thing, actually. Even threw in a few extra grand for it.”
Lex and I exchange confused looks. We’ve been into all the computers in that household, and we never found that video. “He filmed you?” Lex asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to because my anonymity is important to me. But he explained the video would be in a safe in his office, and that no one else would ever see it.”
“So, it’s a tape?”
“No. It was a small digital camera on a tripod. Then, once he was finished, he took some close-ups of what he did to me and pulled out a shitty laptop from under the bed. From what I understood, he saved the video there, then excused himself to return the laptop to its safe.”
So, there’s a secret laptop somewhere in his office?
One that is dormant, which is why we didn’t see it on the penthouse’s network.
Or maybe he removed the network card from it entirely, to make it impossible to hack into.
With Nammota coming after him several times this past decade, it would be the smart thing to do.
“Anyway, it would never hold in court, since all his lawyers would have the proof they need to get the case dismissed in five seconds,” Lorelei explains.
“What kind of laptop was it?” I impulsively ask, bringing myself closer to Lex.
“Who the fuck is that?!” she panics, realizing there’s a third person on the call. Ah, shit …
“Uh … a friendly ear?” I try, wincing at Lex, who gives me a disapproving look.
“You asshole! You promised it would stay between the two of us!” she hisses.
“I’m really sorry. We thought you’d be more comfortable if you believed it was just him,” I apologize.
“And you were right!”
“I’m so sorry. But please just answer this last question. What kind of laptop?”
“A Dell, I think. Or maybe an HP. I don’t remember well. I was busy getting dressed and getting the fuck out of that place.”
“And you’re certain it wasn’t a Mac?”
“Yeah, a hundred percent. I even found it odd, which is why I noticed.”
Lex and I meet each other’s eyes again, having the same realization simultaneously.
Everything we’ve found so far—laptops, phones, tablets, and desktop computers—has been Apple products.
This confirms that Becker has another computer in his penthouse.
One where there might be even more footage, like what he did to Lorelei Madsen.
Though flogging a twenty-one-year-old escort to a pulp might be all we need to take him down.
We’re still silently processing the implications of this new information when Lorelei says, “Okay, if you two dickheads are done with your interrogation, I’d like to hang the fuck up. I know nothing else about Norman Becker that could be relevant.”
“Oh, of course,” I say. “Can you not tell Becker about this call?”
“No way I’d tell him I broke his NDA. Plus, I’m never going anywhere near that man ever again. If you two are going after him, you have my blessing. He deserves to rot in prison.”
“We’re working on it,” Lex promises.
“Thank you so much for your time, Lorelei.”
“Yeah, fuck you for ambushing me.”
She hangs up before we can say anything else, and we remain silent for a moment, staring at the disconnected phone. Holy shit … She gave us more than we bargained for. Becker is a confirmed sick fuck, and there’s proof of it somewhere out there. All we need to do now is put our hands on it.
“I can’t believe your father was friends with that man for years,” I say with disgust.
“Really? Personally, I’m not surprised he’d be friends with such an asshole.”
“That’s not asshole behavior, Lex. That’s monstrous.”
“True … I always thought there was something off about him. Even as a kid, I didn’t like being around that man. The same went for my mother, which is why Becker was rarely allowed at our place. I still came across him a few times—whenever my father took me with him on one of his New York trips.”
I grimace, somehow hating Richard Coleman even more than I did before. At least he cut it off at some point, so I’ll give him credit for that.
Returning to the revelation we just heard, I say, “We need that laptop.”
“My guess is he’s had the NIC removed. That would explain why he got a PC, since it’s simpler to do that. If that’s the case, there’s no way we’ll access it from any network.”
“We need the real thing, then. How the fuck can we pull that off?”
Becker is a private person, and very few people have access to his penthouse.
He organizes a few events and parties every year, but it’s not like we could score an invitation.
The man wants Lex dead. So it’s close friends, family, or social gatherings only.
No, that isn’t true. About two dozen people spend hours there every single day.
“Maybe we could use someone from the staff,” I suggest.
“I was thinking the same. We have enough information about some maids to find out who they are. With enough money, they might agree to find the safe for us, or at least corroborate what Lorelei told us.”
If we’re right and most of his staff are undocumented, we have to be very careful with how we approach them. They might spook easily and hang up as soon as we talk to them.
“I don’t think we can handle this from here,” I explain. “Lorelei wasn’t willing to cooperate until you blackmailed her, so I think it’ll be hard to convince a maid to risk her job and jeopardize their entire life in the US. We need to meet with one in person.”
“That means we’d have to go to New York.”
“I know. There’s only so much we can do from the other side of the country, and I fear we’ve reached the end of it.”
The silence that follows is charged with unspoken thoughts.
It could be dangerous as hell, since we’d basically be walking into the lion’s den.
Right into Becker’s territory. I don’t think he’s aware that we know he wants Lex dead.
But we can fly to New York City unnoticed, using our fake identities, and keep pretending we’re right here.
Iris can switch lights on and off, the groceries can keep being delivered, and Katya can keep coming in twice a week.
If someone’s watching Lex’s apartment, they’d think we’re still right here. That can give us a few weeks before anyone looks for us somewhere else. And by then, we’d be part of the New York landscape, hidden in whatever safe house Lex found for us, undetectable.
He must have followed the same train of thought and reached the same conclusion, because he grumbles, “I fucking hate New York.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried New York with me.”
“You’ve been there before?”
“Never. But I’ve always wanted to go.”
“I never liked it. It stinks, it’s noisy, and the people are so rude.”
“Aw, poor baby … We’ll be locked in like we’re doing now, so it’ll be fine, right?”
“I guess so …”
He’s so fucking adorable when he pouts like this that I grab his face between my hands to bring him closer.
“I promise I’ll protect you from the mean New Yorkers.
” He stares blankly at me, unamused by my gentle teasing.
I kiss the corner of his lips. “I’ll start packing our stuff,” I decide, standing up.
I’m at the door when I turn around to say, “Since we’ll end up stuck indoors most of the time, find us a place with a view, yeah?”
My confidence is mostly a facade, but I do my best to maintain it before turning on my heels and walking to the bedroom. If Lex sees a flicker of doubt in me, he’ll call it off. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves with this, so we don’t have a choice. Not if we ever want to get our lives back.
In order to slay the dragon, we first have to enter its den.
Despite Andrea’s rush to fly to the East Coast, I negotiate forty-eight hours to organize our trip.
That allows me to find the perfect place for us to stay.
Nestled in the heart of Manhattan, the apartment hotel complex is extremely secure, and our condo has a view over Central Park, as Andrea wanted.
From the photos of our rental’s lobby, I noticed a few security cameras I’ll be able to tap into, which means we won’t have to bother ourselves with a security detail.
It’s better that way, to lie low and not draw attention to ourselves.
I didn’t think our fake identity would serve again, but here we are, being Alexandra and Andrew Wilson once more.
It might have been wiser to work on new passports and names, but we never burned ourselves on those, so this should be fine.
I use those names to book us a red-eye to JFK and our apartment.
Wilson is too common to raise any suspicions, which is perfect for us.
We take off from Seattle at ten in the evening and land five hours later in New York, at 6 a.m. local time.
We’re both out of it as I drive us to our temporary address.
I rented a black SUV with tinted windows, which should bring us enough anonymity and security.
Andrea is so tired, she barely looks at the city outside.
A valet takes the key once we arrive, and a bellhop grabs our things from the trunk.
The concierge welcomes us in the hall after the doorman opens, which he only does after we’ve confirmed our identity to him.
Once we’ve been informed about the hotel’s amenities, the bellhop leads us to our apartment.
I dismiss him before he can step in with us, handing him a twenty-dollar bill and wishing him a good day.
As we step into our apartment, Andrea perks up. “Wow,” she breathes out, eyes on the view.
The sun is rising over Central Park, bathing it and us in a warm glow. Seventeen floors up, we can see it all—the entire length of the park, the surrounding buildings, the fiery sky …
“Is the view good enough for you?” I ask with unmasked content.
“More than good. This is amazing.”
She leaves her suitcase behind as she walks to the sliding doors that lead to a terrace.
The sounds from the traffic below barely reach this high, but we can still hear them when she opens the glass door.
Still entranced by the spectacle, she steps out.
I follow, eyes fixed on her as she rests her forearms on the stone railing.
Standing behind her, I lay my hands on each side of her, watching the city as well.
Right now, with jasmine in my nose, the sun on my face, and the beauty of dawn, I feel like I could learn to love this city through her eyes.
“You like it?” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss on her exposed shoulder.
“It’s amazing. I feel like Blair Waldorf.”
“Who?”
“It’s from a show I used to watch. You wouldn’t like it.”
I come closer, close enough to feel her warmth through our clothes, watching the scattered clouds slowly change color. The siren of a fire truck resonates all the way here, breaking through the faint buzz of the activity below. She bends over and watches it until it disappears at a corner.
“Why do you like this city so much?” I ask, curious to hear what she sees in this steaming pile of overpriced shit.
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because so many movies were filmed here. The Dark Knight Rises, Spider-Man, When Harry Met Sally, Ghostbusters, Taxi Driver … I feel like I’ve lived here before.”
“We’ll need to come back once all this is over, to do a dorky tour.”
“It’s not dorky,” she defends herself, turning around in the little space I give her.
She returns her elbows to the railing, looking up at me with her beautiful eyes. “Speaking of all this being over … Are we still aiming for Paola?” she asks.
“She’s the maid we know the most about. She has children, so I think she’ll be easy to convince.”
“Right. So like … do we approach her on Saturday, after her daughter’s soccer match?”
“So early?”
Andrea shrugs. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Might as well get it over with.”
Thanks to the audio we pulled from hacking into Becker’s security system, we know which high school her daughter goes to.
We know that the girl, Elena, is part of the soccer team, and we know she’s enrolled in its summer camp.
Their website informed us there’s a match this weekend, and we heard Paola mention she’d be there to support her daughter.
We found out their surname, Perez, but it’s too common to lead us anywhere.
Our safest bet is to attend that soccer match, and either approach Paola then, or follow her home and wait for a better moment.
Stalking anyone feels very wrong, but our intentions are honest, so it’s not that reprehensible, is it?
Andrea yawns, shielding her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Let’s get some sleep first,” I suggest.
“Good idea. We’ll set everything up later.”
“To prepare ourselves to stalk some poor maid and her daughter.”
Andrea winces, scrunching her nose. “If she isn’t willing to help us out, we’ll need to move on to someone else, or find another way to get the laptop.”
“I’m not sure how we can do that, aside from breaking and entering.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we have access to that penthouse’s security system, then. Maybe we’ll find a way to get in and out undetected.”
“Planning on becoming a cat burglar, are we?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow up.
“Let’s just say I’m ready to do anything to take that man down.”
“Me too, freckles. Me too …”