Irina explained, “We started having trouble with the audio quality when Jean Luc got to Élysée Palace. James thinks it’s probably white-noise equipment since we’re talking about the president’s home. It will definitely test the limits of the new microtech bug. We’re just waiting to hear what’s going on.”
Others on their teams would be resting, guarding the grounds, or monitoring Jean Luc’s movements, so it was just the five of them in the war room. Confident of their privacy and security, Sophia pulled off her wig and rolled her neck. It felt good to let the long waves free until she had to don the disguise again.
The war room was slightly warmer than the garage, with all the electronics packed into the space. She sank into the nearest leather office chair as Irina spoke. There was a spark of excitement in the heiress’s green eyes as she relayed the information.
“The club music didn’t drown out Jean Luc. That’s the good news. Better was what he was doing with the Belgian.” A French politician meeting a Belgian diplomat wasn’t suspicious. The two countries were well connected with trade. Nothing about that would have seemed out of place, yet meeting in a loud club was a good way to mess with sound and listening devices. Even if Jean Luc had been swept for bugs, their new gadget wasn’t supposed to ping. Its technologically advanced manufacturer boasted it as being essentially undetectable and small enough that even a pat down wasn’t likely to uncover it. They paid for the best and latest devices, and often enough, Riot or James tweaked even that equipment.
“What were they talking about at the club?”
“We caught only Jean Luc’s words clearly through the background. James is planning to go back through and sift for more, so we’ll have to wait. What we do know is that Jean Luc gave the man something with ‘the information requested by a mutual friend’ of some sort, and there was mention of a transfer to some account.”
Irina’s voice had risen with excitement on the last words. They’d had very little to go on before, just records of a body disposal in Jean Luc’s dorm room when he would have been seventeen, attending La Couronne, as she, Irina and Riot had, only at a much earlier year. Sophia would have been a toddler when Jean Luc was a teenager at that school.
The ledger never contained the full details of any event, so they had no idea who died in that room or how it happened, but Jean Luc’s family paid for the clean-up, which said a lot. It had apparently been a death no one witnessed, as there were no initials in the margins. The dean liked to add initials of witnesses in the margins—or so it seemed after a great deal of poring over Fahd’s accounting. Aside from that, they had nothing on Jean Luc. The dean’s thorough cover-up made finding the body impossible, even if years hadn’t passed.
“Did you already call in a team to see what he gave the Belgian?” Sophia asked. Someone would need to get their hands on the document to see if it incriminated Jean Luc in any way. All they had was a two-decade-old vague ledger notation, some ex-employees that had gone missing in the last five years, and a likely dead property owner who’d conveniently disappeared after signing over land he hadn’t wanted to part with. The cover-ups spoke of more, but without details, they’d have to keep digging or possibly move to the next mark on the list.
“Yes. Kate’s team is on it. They’re going to get a look without the Belgian knowing.” Kate was good, and she had two other women on her team the Belgian wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Drugging him?” Sophia asked.
“I told Kate it was dealer’s choice as long as the Belgian doesn’t know he’s been had.” The groups they employed were diverse in skills. The heads of their three teams had personal history with Irina’s dead mother. If not for them, Sophia and her friends wouldn’t have been able to do what they were doing. Their people were loyal, paid extremely well, and had their own reasons for doing what they did. It worked. If it hadn’t, they might all have been dead by now.
“Nothing yet?”
“No. But I’m sure we’ll hear soon. We couldn’t tell what Jean Luc meant by ‘information,’ and he didn’t explain.”
“Too bad we can’t drug and interrogate the diplomat to see what Jean Luc gave him,” Jen muttered from her spot in front of a computer console. If only truth serums were really accurate like in the movies, Sophia thought to herself.
“Too risky. We’ve technically got nothing on him yet. Aside from the ledger notes, weak connections to missing people, and a few rumors Cade and the others got about Jean Luc’s reputation in the smuggling world,” Irina pointed out, frustration clear in the frown marring her face.
Cade was one of their top operatives and had some good connections. He had opted to push harder on their investigation into the minister of foreign affairs, even though nothing seemed to be coming up. Her gut, especially after her interaction with him tonight, said his skeletons were merely buried deeper than the marks before him.
After months, they were all starting to get edgy. Placing the bug had been risky, but they hoped something would come out of the late-night meeting with Jean Luc and the president of France, his interactions with the Belgian, or even some hint he gave a member of his house staff. They should hear all of that with the bug.
They’d long ago formed a system for taking down these kinds of men. The first step wasn’t generally quite this painstaking and time intensive. Intel gathering was where they learned all the bad deeds and all the players, as well as where all the money was hidden.
In the second step, they stripped the mark of protection. Finding out why they were protected was imperative in deciding how to take it all away.
In the third step, James hacked in and commandeered as much money out of whatever hidden accounts they could find, accounts that would never or could never be reported. Sometimes they’d also stage thefts of valuables, like jewels and artwork. Sophia wouldn’t say they were doing it for completely altruistic purposes, but they’d managed a very covert restitution plan to help some of the victims’ families along with bankrolling their operation. Not only did those funds pay their operatives, but it also left the mark without the ability to buy his or her way out of trouble after the last step—getting the evidence to the authorities.
“So we don’t know who their mutual friend is either? What about the account?”
“It was hard to tell by the words. Video would have been helpful. He didn’t give account numbers, so it could be they’ve transfer money back and forth before, or the ‘information’ he handed over might have noted it. So unless James can get some of that information from the audio, who knows if it’s even relevant,” Irina noted. “Still, it’s something to go on.”
James cursed. “This audio in the president’s home is just getting more distorted. I had far higher hopes for this bug. It’s mostly static. I don’t even know if I can clean this shit up.”
He spun in his chair while whipping off his headphones. “I’m going to let it record a while before I mess with it.” Sophia felt the frustration humming in the hacker’s words. He scraped a tattooed hand over the short beard covering his deep chocolate cheeks.
“So it’s a bust?” Sophia asked, hoping that wasn’t the case.
“With the president? Probably.”
“You don’t think they found it?” Sophia’s heart raced at the thought. Jean Luc was too cautious when dealing with people, and he was smart. He would remember anyone who touched him at the club that night, not that anyone would generally suspect her, but something about Jean Luc set her on edge more than usual.
James gave a shrug. “Won’t know until he leaves the palace. You did good getting it on him, though.”
“Thanks.”