Page 37 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“The key is a person. A person who owes me favours.”
“A person?” That did make a certain amount of sense. After all, I knew how Echo had gotten so many backdoors into supposedly secure databases, and it wasn’t just because she spent hours in front of a keyboard. No, her alter ego was a shrewd businessperson. Ether’s founder also hid behind an alias, but I figured he had to exist in the real world too. “You worked out who runs Ether?”
Emmy gave an enigmatic smile. “Maybe.”
“Mack found them?”
“Mack and Echo both have a tendency to get lost in cyberspace on occasion.”
True, but in Echo’s case, I understood all those hours spent in the digital world. The real one made her nervous. For years, she’d hidden away in dark corners with only Chase for company, but now she’d hooked up with an outdoorsy guy who pushed her out into the light from time to time.
“That’s why Echo has us.”
“Mack’s pretty sociable. More than I am, anyway—I’d rather go to a bar brawl than a birthday party.” Emmy glanced at her watch. “Give me five minutes, and we’ll go talk to Lonnie. Then we can head back to Indonesia and help with the search. Maybe find a nice spot for a holiday while we’re at it.”
“Some of us don’t have time for vacations.”
Emmy just laughed. “You should learn to relax. Lose those frown lines.”
And… I was back to hating her again.
CHAPTER 14
Phae
Beep. Click.
I tensed as the penthouse door unlocked, and on the other side of the room, Emmy did the same. Showtime. It was five a.m. now. What had Lonnie been doing all that time? He’d barely lasted two minutes with the kid, and he didn’t strike me as the social type.
The kid… Emmy had worked her connections again and assured me that the pimp would be handled. When I asked whether the “handling” involved a shallow grave, she’d said probably not, because there was likely a whole network involved and the grave would be the size of a soccer pitch.
While we waited for Lonnie, I’d helped myself to a double espresso from the machine in the kitchen—the penthouse was real fancy—and took a combat nap while Emmy kept watch. The past three days were beginning to catch up with me, not just the jet lag and fieldwork, but the whole Marc thing. After all these years, I shouldn’t still love him, but I did. If I could turn back time, would I go to Hollywood? Maybe, even though I knew it would kill me inside. A part of me had died anyway.
McDonald stumbled into the suite and tossed his phone onto a side table. Adrenaline spiked through me, quick and sharp. Emmy was moving silently to block the door, and she neatly pocketed the phone on her way as McDonald remained oblivious to our presence.
But not for long.
“Evening, Lonnie,” she said, and he spun so fast he risked whiplash. “It’s been a while. Did you have fun tonight?”
I’d expected anger, but what Emmy got was a leer.
“Who the hell are you? Because you’re not my type.”
“Oh, I already know that. Transactional relationships aren’t my thing. But relax; we’re not here to put your Viagra through its paces. I have a business proposal.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re aware of the incident on Malati?”
“That bullshit with the movie star? Yeah, it’s all over the news.” McDonald squinted at Emmy. “Do I know you?”
“‘Know’ is too strong a term. You groped my ass at a party once, but that’s not important today. Seeing as you own the piece of land involved in the Malati affair, you didn’t think it might be a good idea to, I don’t know, get in touch with the authorities and ask if you could help out?”
“Why would I do that? I’m not changing my plans for some two-bit eco-warriors.” He spit the words as if they disgusted him. Damn, I really wanted to break this asshole’s face.
“Even with lives at stake, you’d rather be the bad guy than the hero?”
“No one’s gonna die.”
