Page 52 of Dating Goals
“And since you’ve invested in his stock,” Bruderlin continues, “your presence at this event would not raise any suspicions.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “Are you asking me to spy on Malcolm Chase? At a fancy party in Zermatt?”
“You’re the closest significant stockholder in proximity to Zermatt,” Showalter says, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. “You’re a practical choice to infiltrate the party and gather intelligence.”
I stare at them, waiting for the punchline. When none comes, I let out a short, nervous laugh.
“Is this a joke? Am I being pranked right now?” I look around for hidden cameras. “Did Sven put you up to this? Because this has his sense of humor written all over it.”
“This is not a joke, Mr. McGregor,” Bruderlin says with the patience of someone working for the Department of Motor Vehicles.
“So you’re seriously asking me to be…what? Your secret agent?” I can’t help the excitement creeping into my voice. “Like James Bond? Because I have to tell you, I look damn good in a tux.”
Showalter’s expression remains impassive. “We’re asking you to attend an event you’d reasonably be invited to anyway and keep your eyes and ears open.”
I laugh nervously. “Wait, you’re serious? You want me to spy on Malcolm Chase? At a fancy party?”
“We wouldn’t characterize it asspying,” Bruderlin says, looking mildly offended. “Think of it as…assisting an investigation.”
“By spying,” I counter.
Showalter sighs. “By observing and reporting back. Nothing more.”
“Why don’t you just send in your actual spies?” I ask. “You know, people who are trained for this kind of thing?”
“There will be FIS presence at the event,” Bruderlin assures me. “But you won’t know who they are.”
“We believe Malcolm Chase won’t think twice about seeing you there,” Showalter adds. “He might even be open to discussing additional business opportunities with you, which could provide valuable intelligence.”
“So I’d be like a hockey player by day, secret agent by night?”
I immediately picture myself in a tuxedo, ordering martinis shaken not stirred. McGregor.GriffinMcGregor. License to spy. I’m not entirely sure if I’m joking anymore.
Bruderlin sighs. “Mr. McGregor, this is a serious matter. Hundreds of millions of euros are at stake, including your own investment.”
I sit back in my chair, trying to wrap my head around this surreal conversation. Here I thought the biggest crisis in my life was watching Anika fall for someone else, and now I’m being recruited for an undercover operation by the Swiss intelligence service.
“What exactly would I have to do?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Attend the event. Mingle. Listen. Observe who Malcolm speaks with, what they discuss. Note anyone who seems particularly close to him or who might be handling financial matters,” Bruderlin explains.
A slight thrill runs through me. “Do I get spy glasses with a tiny camera and a watch with a laser beam?”
Bruderlin’s expression suggests he’s reconsidering his life choices. “No, Mr. McGregor. This isn’t a film.”
“Right, of course not,” I say, trying to sound serious despite the adrenaline now coursing through my veins. “But you do understand that I’m a hockey player, not a spy? My idea of stealth is trying to sneak an extra dessert past our nutritionist.”
“We’re aware of your occupation,” Showalter says dryly. “That’s precisely why you’re perfect for this. No one would suspect you.”
I consider the proposition. On one hand, it’s absolutely insane. On the other hand…Well, it’s still insane, but it’s also kind of exciting. Plus, if Malcolm really has stolen millions from my teammates, I want to help take him down.
“What about the team?” I ask. “We have games this weekend.”
“We’ve already spoken with your coach,” Bruderlin says. “As far as anyone knows, you’ve been selected for a special NHL European ambassador event in Zermatt. Your absence has been cleared.”
Of course they’ve thought of everything. These guys are professionals.
“So,” I say. “If I agree to this—and I’m not saying I am yet—what happens after the party? Do I just go back to normal life? Pretend none of this happened?”
