“Like psychic twin powers or something?” Lincoln asked, rolling his eyes.
“I just know when he’s keeping a secret,” Noah said, ignoring the barb. “He always tells me everything and… I just know he was holding something back when he called.”
“Maybe it’s a contractual thing,” Lincoln guessed. “Maybe it’s not abadsecret.”
“Yeah,maybe. And maybe it’s exactly like you said and someone was holding a gun to his head. Maybe my brother was trying to act like nothing was going on because he was too afraid that one of us would come looking for him and get hurt.”
Lincoln frowned.
“I wouldn’t… put it past him to think like that,” Lincoln said, finally.
“See what I mean? If he thinks that he’d put me in danger by letting me know thathe’sin danger, he would totally lie, even if things were really bad.”
“Jesus,” Lincoln said, massaging his temples. “This is like, ten times more complicated than it should be.”
“Yeah. What do we do now?”
“What did you find out about 330 West?” Lincoln asked. “Weren’t you supposed to be, like, hacking and stuff?”
“Oh my God,” Noah said. “You didn’t just say that out loud. I’m going to ignore that.”
“What, did I break hacker code?”
“Just… stop,” Noah said. “I’m embarrassed for you, truly.”
Lincoln sneered at him but the expression dissolved into a big smile after a moment. It felt good to tease someone who would tease him right back instead of treating him like he was something fragile.
Not that Beau had ever treated him like that but… He was as muchdadto Noah as brother, and he’d never chance saying anything that could possibly hurt his feelings.
“Anyway, yeah, I did some digging around their periphery—lots of safeguards, no way for them to trace it back to me and no contact at all with the group that I was blackmailing to begin with. I gave them a wide berth.”
“And what’s the story? What do theydoin that penthouse?”
“Mueller Global Endowment Fund,” Noah said. “They run a fund. It looks like it’s a non-profit organization that distributes money toothernon-profits—or at least that’s what they’re reporting to the feds.”
“Is that unusual?”
Noah hitched a shoulder. “It might be and it might not be. I mean, who just gives away money without having a specific cause they care about or making some big deal out of it so they get recognition? It feels an awful lot like the front for a money laundering operation, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it means yet. And I don’t know how it ties into having a big fucking exotic pet with horns.”
“But you haven’t been able to connect them to anything criminal, right?”
“Nope,” Noah said, shaking his head. He realized he’d started slurring because he was trying to explain everything quickly. To his credit, Lincoln was keeping up. “MGEF looks clean. There haven’t been any inquiries from NWPD, nothing from the FBI… not even an IRS audit.”
“What do you think that means?”
“It means they’re either not doing anything wrong and Beau is safe,” Noah said, “or they’re the slickest motherfuckers in New Whitby and we should be very, very worried.”
Lincoln sighed. “Jesus, man. Do you think we’re just… being paranoid here?”
Noah shook his head. “They’ve been watching me. And it’s my brother’s life. I don’t care if I’m being paranoid. I want to know that he’s safe.”
Lincoln frowned and nodded, lacing his hands together on the top of the table.
“I agree,” he said, finally. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”
Noah had already thought about that, too, though he hadn’t planned on giving Lincoln any instructions yet.
“I thought maybe you could go to 330 West and case the place.”