Twenty-Three
James
It turned out the man James and Raymond found was another red herring. He was only part of a network of people hiding the real felon. Which meant James’s team offered a hefty compensation in exchange for staying quiet, as well as the real culprit’s name, before leaving the man alone.
It left James no choice but to extend his trip by a week; however, given what was at stake, it was worth it.
Strolling into the café, his steps echoed as he wound through the main room and into the back.
The café was closed indefinitely for renovations, and nearly all the chairs and tables were pushed up against the back wall. Alongside them sat a surly security guard, keeping a sharp eye on the man in front of him.
He sat behind the lone table, his fingers laced as he twiddled his thumbs. The mousy-looking blond man crossed a leg over the other as he stared at a sign advertising a menu from two years ago.
He glanced at the entryway and smiled. “Someone actually came. I feel like a celebrity.”
James dusted his gaze over the man and ran his tongue over his teeth, cycling through what his people gave him.
Albert Davenport was the ringleader of a network of hackers operating on the dark web. His specialty was unearthing nasty secrets and using them to blackmail the rich and powerful to the point of ruin.
If he hadn’t indirectly come after Lotus, James might’ve hired Davenport for future problems. But alas …
“I have to say, you’re not what I expected you to look like,” James said, taking a seat across from Davenport.
He cocked his head. “Neither are you. When I was hired, I didn’t bother looking you up. Money is money, after all. But you’re younger than I thought. Especially for such a successful company.” He barked a harsh laugh. “But I guess that’s what happens when Mummy and Daddy have money.”
“Shut up,” James snapped.
“Oh, touched a nerve there, didn’t I?” Davenport sneered. “Well, I hate to break it to you. But you’re a prime example of how the rich only trust the rich to handle their dirty work. Still, I am a little disappointed your boss didn’t show himself. But I guess he doesn’t want to bother.”
James blinked. Does he think I’m from Cross? Well, alright, then.
James wasn’t going to pass up an advantage.
“Why do you look like that? Unless”— Davenport frowned and tilted his head—“you’re not from Cross.”
His face remained a blank slate for a moment before his eyes widened, and a smile spread across his lips.
“You’re from the company that hired me, aren’t you?
Oh, this is rich. Credit where credit’s due, I was not expecting this.
” He fell into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he bent toward the table, his merriment ringing in the silence.
James said nothing as his mom’s voice floated through his head.
‘Yízhāo, look at you. Look at what you’ve done.’
He gritted his teeth.
Davenport had threatened everything, and judging by his demeanor, that meant nothing.
James looked at the guard and jerked his head toward the door.
The guard nodded and shuffled out without a word.
“This isn’t funny,” James said and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “Tell me. Do you think Interpol would pay me more than what I lost to hand you over? What about MI5?”
At that, Davenport sobered quickly. “Excuse me?”
“When you decided to hack into George Delacroix’s bank accounts, you also decided to tear my company apart,” James said. “You decided to hurt good people with families who depend on them.”
“But all of them, including you, are still a bunch of greedy, rich bastards.” Davenport’s placid face contorted into a sneer.
“I’d read this before you keep running your mouth.” James reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper, sliding it between them.
Davenport clucked his tongue but took the paper, examining the contents. A bored expression coated his features before he tossed it down on the table. “A list of jobs I’ve done? Well, it’s nice to have a record of my accomplishments, but what’s your point?”
“I thought you might like to physically be able to see what’s at stake here,” James said. “Look, I have better things to do at home. The only reason I bothered to show up was because my people told me they’ve been trying to get information out of you for days, and nothing.”
“Yes, well, I wasn’t going to talk for ten-thousand quid, now was I?” Davenport rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been telling them, but clearly, they didn’t listen.”
“No, I guess not.” James sucked his teeth. “Well, then, maybe I can make it worth your while. Twenty-five thousand for the name of whoever hired you, or I hand that list over. And I doubt you want that to happen.”
“So, this isn’t just a bribe, but blackmail?” Davenport’s eyes sparked. “Your men didn’t try that.”
“Would it have made a difference if they did?”
Davenport cocked a shoulder and returned his attention to the menu he’d stared at before. “Not for twenty-five thousand.”
James stayed the twitch of his lips. Now, who's the greedy bastard? “Fifty thousand.”
Davenport shook his head, rapping his fingers on the paper. “I’m not going to give up so easily. You know that, right?”
James pursed his lips. “Not even to protect yourself? Alright. Seventy-five.”
Davenport laughed. “What is this, an auction? And I am protecting myself. I’ve got people who will gladly take the fall for me. Dumb fucks who won’t know what’s wrong until it’s too late.”
James froze. If that was how Davenport felt about his men, then James harbored absolutely no remorse.
He pushed back from the table, his chair legs scraping noisily into the quiet. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket again, he pulled out another folded paper.
“What’s that?” Davenport asked,
“The same thing as before.” James nodded toward the paper. “Since you never confirmed whether you’d take the seventy-five thousand, then there’s no harm in handing this over, is there?”
Davenport’s throat bobbed, and he kept his gaze pinned on the paper. “You won’t. You can’t do anything without incriminating yourself.”
“Except I have contacts at both those agencies I mentioned,” James said. “And who do you think they’ll believe?”
The air between them stretched like a violin string close to snapping, and for the first time, Davenport looked scared. He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt as his eyes shifted back and forth.
James checked his watch and sighed. He turned toward the door. “My team will drop you home, but don’t get too comfortable. The authorities will be there later today.”
“Wait … I want a hundred thousand.”
James smirked and turned around. He lifted a brow. “Bold move to make requests right now.”
“A hundred thousand,” Davenport repeated more assuredly. “I’ll give you the name, but alongside the money, you promise to tear up these lists.”
There was never a question of whether Davenport would take the offer. As such, James had walked into the café before with an envelope of cash in his inner jacket pocket.
He withdrew it now before taking the list and folding it with the other one. “I’ll do you one better.”
Taking out a lighter, he flicked his thumb against the spark wheel and held the resulting flame against the corner of the papers. Extinguishing the lighter, he repocketed it before dropping the papers in the metal trash can.
He tossed the envelope on the table, trying not to wrinkle his nose as Davenport lunged for the packet.
“A hundred thousand, even,” James said and glanced at the trash can.
The small fire had almost entirely extinguished, but a few licks of flames remained.
“You knew,” Davenport surmised and scowled. “Once a rich bastard, always a rich bastard, eh?”
“Money talks.” James shrugged and crossed his arms before raising his voice and calling the guard back in. He turned toward him. “Return Mr. Davenport home, please.”
“Understood,” the guard said. “Will we be expecting anyone to drop by his residence later?”
James shook his head. “Someone was smart and finally took the deal.”
“So, he gave you a name?”
James narrowed his eyes and examined Davenport. The man’s head was bowed as his lips moved in a silent tally of the bills.
“Not yet,” James said. He raised his voice. “But I trust you’ll give it to us, won’t you?”
Davenport stilled and lifted his head. “Excuse me?”
“The name of whoever hired you,” James repeated. “I paid for it, after all. So, you’ll give it to my colleagues later.”
“Or what?”
“Do you think I don’t have another copy of that list at the ready? Also, I don’t like wasting money, and I don’t like when people lie to me.” He gestured to the gun resting in the guard’s holster. “So, I highly suggest you cooperate.”
Davenport swallowed hard. “Then why don’t you get it before you go?”
“Like I said, I have better things to do,” James said.
Turning on his heel, he reentered the front room and sniffed as he descended the crumbling steps outside the café.
Back when he’d first dealt with something like this, he found the whole thing a bit nauseating. To be honest, he still did.
Threatening to reveal incriminating information about someone unless they did what he wanted … it left an unsavory taste in his mouth. But what choice did he have?
Without his investigative team, there wasn’t a doubt he would’ve floundered early.
You didn’t run a successful business without smoothing out a few bumps in the road.
A lightness ballooned his chest. The night air surrounded him in its brisk embrace, the lilt of soothing music from nearby restaurants assaulting his ears.
Pulling his phone out, he glanced at the time. Dammit.
Navigating to the message thread with Sophie, he sent a picture of the rows of flowers he had taken that morning.
Sorry for the late message. I don’t know if you’re still awake, but here’s Columbia Road Flower Market. I also wanted to let you know that my business in London finished, so I’ll be back tomorrow night
Slipping his phone in his pocket, his feet carried him on autopilot toward the main street.