Page 13 of Falling Fast

Three of the big bosses and their enforcers were holding a summit at a hotel Dean’s company owned on the waterfront. “That’s good news.” Best he’d heard all day. “You got them the penthouse apartments?”

“Of course.”

“Good. See to the usual arrangements for our guests.”

“Already done.”

Dean had long ago become a master of being able to do dirty business in public without tipping anyone off. To anyone near enough to hear him—or anyone listening in on the off chance that someone had managed to tap his phone without his knowledge—the conversation would sound totally benign.

The only way to stay out of prison was not to get caught in the first place, and he made sure he paid his people well enough to buy their loyalty—and their silence. “Keep me informed. But that’s not what I called about.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

“I need a computer expert to fix an ongoing problem I’m having with a virus in my office building’s computer system. I haven’t alerted local authorities about the attack, for obvious reasons. You’ve got your trusted contacts for that kind of thing.” Almost all of whom were deeply entrenched in the criminal underworld. “Know of anyone who could help?”

“You want someone legit?”

“I want someone who can take care of this within the next twenty-four hours.”

Tim didn’t answer for a moment. “There’s been a lot of chatter recently about someone I’ve heard of through a trusted source. Operates strictly on the dark net.”

“Go on.”

“Some hacker wizard, goes by the name Spider.”

“Can you contact him, make an offer and tell him I’ll make it worth his while? I want this dealt with in the next day or two. I’m tired of dealing with this shit. I have business to take care of and I don’t trust anyone else to find someone.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Two stoplights ahead, the cab Catherine rode in turned right at the corner, passing another building his company owned, and had built from the ground up. Dean smiled to himself.

If she knew the measures he’d taken to secure such a prime location—or what was hidden beneath the building itself—Catherine would have been too afraid to turn down the offer he’d made today.

****

This was more frustrating than she’d bargained for, and it was supposed to be the simplest part of the entire operation.

Charlie made a sound of irritation in the back of her throat and adjusted the magnifying glasses on the end of her nose while she fiddled with the chip held between the pincers of the tweezers. Spring sunshine streamed through the window of the fourth-floor Brooklyn apartment building she’d moved into three days ago…

Along with her sexy neighbor currently occupying apartment 4D.

It still felt surreal that she was doing this—about to go on an undercover op, let alone with Jamie. The past few days had gone by in a blur of activity, a string of long-ass days full of meetings and briefings as the agency rushed to prep her for her upcoming role as Spider. Hard as it was to ignore her attraction to him and the growing feelings she’d thus far unsuccessfully tried to bury, she couldn’t deny that she felt better knowing he was right next door.

They’d gone over their individual cover stories together until she could repeat them in her sleep, and she’d memorized everything in the file on Baker as well in addition to all the other information the agency insisted she master before coming to New York. She was now Charlotte Cooper, website designer by day and revered dark net hacker Spider by night.

A knock at the door signaled her guest was here for the meeting.

Charlie rose from the kitchen table, excited to meet the real Spider, who the DEA had brought in to be part of this op. The agency wanted the two of them to meet in person so Charlie could ask questions and add certain details to help her cover story be even more solid.

She checked the peephole before answering, then opened the door, barely covering her surprise as she stared at the woman. “Liz?”

“Yes, nice to meet you.” The fifty-something, heavy-set DEA contractor wore a green sweater set and a gray wool skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair was styled into a tidy chin-length bob and the strand of pearls around her neck matched the ones in her ears.

She looked like Mrs. Claus. Or at least someone’s grandma.

The woman known as Spider shook Charlie’s hand and marched inside with her bag over her shoulder, the lenses of her black cat-eye glasses catching the light streaming in through the kitchen windows. “You ready to do this?”

Charlie shut the door and ushered her toward the kitchen table. “Yes. You’ve got perfect timing. Maybe you can figure out how to make this damn thing work.” She gestured to the chip and the plastic lip-gloss tube.

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