Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Archer glanced up from his morning coffee as Ryker strode into his office. One look at his face, tight jaw, focused eyes, told him this wasn't routine.
"Talk,” Archer directed, setting the cup down.
Ryker didn't bother sitting. "Richard North is dead."
Archer's eyebrows rose as his stomach tightened. The coffee turned sour in his mouth. "How?"
"Police are saying he drank too much and fell down the stairs."
Archer processed that, but it didn't sit right. Too convenient. Too clean. "Do we have anything else?"
Ryker shook his head. "Not yet. We won't be able to get in for a while. The cops are all over the place. My contacts think it'll be tonight before things quiet down."
"By then the evidence will have been picked over," Archer said flatly.
"Exactly."
"Did your NYPD source say anything else?"
"Just that they're treating it as accidental. His cell phone was found downstairs on a table. Apparently, he'd been out drinking all night with colleagues."
Archer's fingers drummed once against his desk. A tell. He stilled them. "And those colleagues were Kelly and Lebowitz?"
"Yeah. They both confirmed North was drunk."
Archer absorbed that, his mind already moving through possibilities. None of them good. "What about our cameras, Ryker?"
"I won't be able to access them until tonight."
"What about the feed?"
"I've got Rush on it now. We didn't set it up for a live feed, remember? We thought a sweep might tip someone off, so we didn't go that route. We'll get in tonight, pull our equipment, and see what we captured."
Archer nodded, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. "Fine. But I want to go with you."
Ryker studied him, his gaze sharp. Assessing. "You sure?"
"Yes."
Ryker didn't move. He stood there, arms crossed, watching Archer with the kind of scrutiny that came from years of working together. "Why are you so invested in this?"
"It's part of my job," Archer said.
Ryker shook his head and scoffed. "Don't try that with me. I've worked for you too long. I know your job." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "If you don't tell me, I can't help you, and neither can the team. They're noticing it too. You've been wound tight for months."
Archer leaned back, then stood and began pacing. The energy in his body needed somewhere to go. Ryker was not wrong. Maybe it was time to bring him in. To stop carrying this alone.
He crossed to the window overlooking the East River, and the morning light cast a sharp glare across the water. Then turned back. "When the President asked me not to kill Davis, and I agreed, it was for ninety days. The plan was to take him out on the ninety-first day."
Ryker frowned. "And then?"
"And then I was asked to delay. Indefinitely."
Ryker's confusion deepened. "Did you get a reason?"
"No." Archer's jaw tightened. "I asked. The President doesn't answer to me." The sarcasm was precise and deliberate. "But it appears Davis still has friends."
Ryker's expression shifted, understanding beginning to dawn. "What does that have to do with North?"
"I spoke with Tatum last night," Archer said, and just saying her name did something to him, tightened his chest in a way that had nothing to do with the conversation.
He pushed past it. "She believes there's someone else involved in the Granite Industries Ponzi scheme.
I agree. There's no way North, Kelly, or Lebowitz were smart enough to design or sustain that operation. "
He turned fully, meeting Ryker's eyes. "Whoever built it had a skill set those three don't have."
Ryker nodded slowly. "Fraud. Law. Offshore banking."
"And connections," Archer added. "Which Davis has."
"You think Davis has that skill set?"
"I think Davis has the connections," Archer stressed. "And if he's not the architect, he could easily be the man who got the ball rolling with the other three."
Ryker considered that, his expression grave. "So… You think he dealt with Kelly, Lebowitz, and North directly."
"It fits," Archer said. "They'd be afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do to them. That would keep them in line and quiet."
Ryker exhaled slowly. "Could he, though? Does he still have that kind of power? After the whole bomb thing?"
"The President doesn't want him dead," Archer said. "That's some kind of pull, considering Davis almost blew up half the government."
"Fair," Ryker acknowledged. "That makes sense. But why is this so important to you personally?" He held Archer's gaze, unflinching. "I get that if Davis is behind the Ponzi scheme, it gives us leverage. And I know you hate him. But what's your real stake in this?"
Archer didn't answer right away.
Because the truth was, this wasn't just about rules anymore.
It wasn't just that Davis was the worst kind of scum.
It was about Tatum. About the fear he'd seen in her eyes last night when she realized someone had been in her apartment.
About the way she'd looked sitting across from him, trying to be brave, holding herself together with sheer stubbornness when most people would have fallen apart entirely.
That realization sat heavily in his chest. Dangerous.
"My job is to make sure no one gets hurt while they're inside the Society," he said.
"So it depends on whether meetings took place here, whether people signed away their money on Society grounds.
If that's the case, they were harmed within the Society.
It gives me the right to take out Davis regardless of what the President wants. "
"That’s thin logic," Ryker said.
"Yes, it is."
Ryker leaned back in the visitor's chair, his eyes never leaving Archer's face. "There's more, isn't there?"
"The money," Archer said flatly.
Ryker's brow furrowed.
"If you remember," Archer continued, moving back toward his desk but not sitting, "Davis was broke after his last fiasco. His failed vice-presidential aspirations humiliated him, and he didn't have the funds to recover from it, not after your better half inherited the farm in Texas."
Ryker nodded slowly, and his brows lifted, as if the pieces clicked into place. "So if he's behind this..."
"He suddenly has billions," Archer finished. The number hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
Ryker exhaled. "And you're worried about what he might do with that kind of money."
"Yes."
"What exactly are you afraid of?" Ryker asked.
Archer drew in a slow breath. He hadn't said this out loud, not fully, not to anyone except in fragments to Tatum. Saying it now made it real in a different way.
"What I'm really afraid of," he said, his voice quiet but steady, "is that he’ll use that money to make a play to be the head of the Society."
Ryker went completely still.
"With that kind of capital," Archer continued, "and the reach that comes with the position, Austin Davis becomes untouchable. Unstoppable."
"Fuck," Ryker muttered. "We thought it might be a possibility, but we didn't think he actually had the money. But if he's the one behind the Ponzi scheme then..."
"Yes."
"You really think he could do it?"
"Yes," Archer said quietly. "And if he does, he gains access to the most powerful people in the world. To information that will allow him to manipulate markets. Destabilize governments. Start wars."
He met Ryker's gaze and let him see the full weight of it. "There's no end to what he could do. And he would do it. His ego is monstrous. His hunger for power is endless."
Ryker stared at him, and Archer knew the moment realization settled within the man. Awareness moved across his expression like a shadow. "Holy shit."
"That's why I need you," Archer said. "I need everyone on this. I need to know who's behind the Ponzi scheme. I need to know where the money is." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I've been making inquiries quietly, in the background, but I have to be cautious. I can't alert anyone."
Ryker focused on him again, his expression sharp. "That's what Tatum did, isn't it? She alerted someone. They realized she was paying attention."
"Yes," Archer said, and the word tasted bitter.
"And now she's in physical danger."
"I tried to make her understand that last night," Archer said. He couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice. The frustration. The fear he wouldn't name out loud. "I thought it was a possibility. After North's death, I think it's a probability."
"You think the same person who killed North destroyed her apartment?"
"I don't know if it was the same individual," Archer said. "But it was the same entity. Someone with reach. Someone sending a message."
"What do you want me to do?" Ryker asked.
"Keep doing what you're doing," Archer said. "Dig into North's death. Find out if it really was an accident, though that would be one hell of a coincidence, and I don't believe in coincidences."
He continued, his voice hardening. "And make sure Tatum doesn't go anywhere alone. I'm not sure how receptive she'll be to visible security, so keep someone on her whether she sees them or not."
Ryker nodded. "Anything else?"
"Loop Rush and the others in, but keep it tight. We start turning over every rock."
Ryker stood but didn't move toward the door. "One more question. Why can't we take Davis out now? Surely this constitutes extreme circumstances."
"Because if we do," Archer said, "it comes back to me. He's my direct rival. Everyone will assume I killed him to save my own skin."
"And then they'll kill you," Ryker said.
"Yes," Archer replied. "That's how the rules work."
"And the Society ends up leaderless."
"Exactly. They won't use my chosen successor. And until I know who else is involved, because I'm certain Davis isn't acting alone, I won't create a vacuum. It's too dangerous."
He held Ryker's gaze. "Not just for the Society. For the world."
"So we wait," Ryker said.
"We wait," Archer confirmed. "Until I have proof."
"Okay," Ryker said, turning toward the door.
"Ryker."
Ryker paused and looked back.