Kate Lynch isn’t a brat.
Sure, she has a mouth on her—she’s not afraid to swear, in public or in private. She’s got a wicked sense of timing—her throwing the champagne proved that. She’s willing to test boundaries, to break my rules—she earned herself ten strokes without even trying.
But none of this is a game to her.
Kate behaves like a cornered animal. She’s all teeth and claws, snarling defense. She’s desperate.
Her mother’s a piece of work—I learned that in the side yard. Her father’s not much better; he’s willing to pawn her like a used Rolex.
But there’s more at play here than a strong-willed woman pushing back against Mommy and Daddy.
Kate’s a Red Cap Raider. She’s an expert coder who’s been targeting my clients for years. I should walk away on those grounds alone.
But I don’t want to walk away. I’d rather follow the ancient proverb: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The idea of keeping Kate close appeals on far too many levels.
I don’t know what made Kate the way she is. But I know one man who might.
I’ve got his number in my phone. I’ve done work for him, securing a computer system at a temporary residence in Philadelphia. We see each other at Diamond Freeport’s monthly meetings for the tax haven’s most important clients.
I wait until nine in the morning before I call. I can pretend to be a civilized man.
“Kelly.” He answers on the first ring.
“Cole Wolf here.”
He waits, which makes sense, because I’m the one asking for a favor.
“You and Samantha got back from Boston without any problems?” Christ. I sound like I’m digging for gossip, hanging out at the office water cooler. If I ever worked in an office. If anyone ever stood around a water cooler anymore.
“We’re home,” he says.
“No problems with your computer system? The firewall isn’t giving you any trouble?”
“The firewall is fine,” he says. “It has been for months.”
I’m wasting his time. Wasting my own. I’m acting like I’m ten years old, asking another kid to pass a note in homeroom.Squaring my shoulders, I dig in, the way I should have done at the start of this call. “I have a job offer from one of your captains. I hope you can tell me if he’s worth taking on as a client.”
“Go on,” Kelly says. He didn’t get to be General of the Grand Irish Union by gossiping about every clan in the country.
“It’s Barry Lynch.”
Silence.
“A substantial project,” I finally add. “Promising generous compensation.”
“Payback, then, for Kaitlín’s bad behavior.” He says her name the way Lynch did, with a vowel sound that isn’t part of English.
“Something like that.”
“So you want to know if Lynch is good for the money? He runs a cash business like the rest of us. Some years up, some years down.”
“This is about more than money. I may be entering a more…long-term arrangement.”
An even longer silence.
I finally dangle another fact. “A joint venture of sorts.”
“Lynch won’t lie outright,” Kelly says after another pause. “But he’ll do his best to turn every step to his own advantage. Keep your eyes open. And don’t make promises you aren’t willing to keep.”