ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (10 page)

But with nothing new to add, the debriefing was over.

“So,” James said, starting what he knew would be an unpleasant conversation. “I was standing in line to get the coffees and, much to my surprise, a news bulletin came on discussing the death threats Mak Ashwood has received. Does anyone want to tell me about this?”

“No,” Deacon said with an unwavering stubbornness. “It’s under control.”

“How is it under control? It looks very not-under-control from my position. Cami? Samuel?” James said, looking at each of them in turn.

Cami diverted her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee and effectively dismissing him.

Samuel appeared to be vacillating in his resolution to withhold information.

James gave him the look, one he rarely had to use, the look that said don’t play games.

“Obviously, information was leaked to the press,” Samuel said. “I ran some tests to identify whether the leak was the result of someone’s system. As it turns out, I couldn’t see the trace of a hack, at all. It’s not impossible that I’ve missed it, but it’s extremely unlikely. Extremely. I believe that the information was leaked by the source. They want the press to know, but why? I don’t know the answer to that and it’s probably a question better scrutinized by your mind.”

Interesting.
“So, everyone thought it best not to tell me?” James asked, looking directly at Deacon.

“Hey, you said you wanted to be involved as little as possible. And, now that you do know, what are you going to do about it? Nothing. So why does it matter? All it will do is put that girl back in your mind and we all know that’s a fucking bad idea.”

James sat silently for a minute, thinking through the strategy forming in his mind. “Actually, you’re right—I’m not going to do anything about it,” he said to Deacon. “But you are.”

James watched a miniature version of Deacon walk down a dark alley via one of Samuel’s surveillance screens. Samuel had hacked into the camera system that Mak’s new security contract had installed, and James had multiple views of the streets surrounding her office building, the lobby, the floor she worked on, and her actual office.

“Confirm. Two ghosts identified,”
Deacon said. His voice was being transmitted via his earwig and played on the speakers in Samuel’s office.

Deacon had been loitering around Mak’s office, scoping out the surveillance and also testing her external security. They had failed to identify Deacon, which wasn’t necessarily a good start but his brother was skilled at slipping into and out of places unseen.

“Enter via the basement,” James said and Samuel nodded his head in agreement.

James watched Deacon move along the east wall, jiggling the windows to see if any were unlocked. Unlikely, but definitely possible. James wished he were the one on-site, testing Mak’s security, but it was much better if Deacon did it. As much as she didn’t leave his thoughts, he knew engaging with her was a bad idea—it would only make him want something he couldn’t have. He would stay away, and spare them both some pain.

Deacon returned to the window in the center of the building—the largest window. He pulled a round disk from his back pocket and stuck it on the center of the glass pane. James noted the time as Deacon pushed the activation button. Within seconds the glass silently crumbled into millions of glistening fragments that looked as innocent as spilled sugar but James knew could cut like razors. Carefully, Deacon climbed through and into the basement of Mak’s office building.

Samuel hadn’t been able to retrieve a floor plan of the basement—it was a very old building—but Deacon knew the direction of the stairwell. He would have to use his night scope to guide him without turning on the lights but James estimated it should only take about two minutes for him to reappear on their screens.

“Door locked,”
Deacon said, keeping in communication—because even the most basic communication during an operation was paramount to its success.

Seven seconds later Deacon spoke again.
“Moving.”

James looked at the camera view of Mak’s office. She was at her desk, which was covered in manila folders. James assumed they were notes related to her case.

“Stairwell,”
Deacon said, confirming his location.

James watched as Mak rubbed her eyes and then stood up from her desk, picking up her coffee mug on her way out. James’ eyes flickered to the layout of her floor. The kitchen was located right next to the stairwell.

“Seventh floor.”

“Hold,” James said, watching Mak walk straight past the door he knew Deacon was standing behind. James watched as she made a cup of coffee.

“Target in the kitchen adjacent to stairwell. Move,” James said. He didn’t bother to tell Deacon to move quietly—that would’ve been a redundant order: Deacon could move like a phantom.

James kept his eyes on the surveillance screen of the kitchen, and watched as Deacon moved through the screens toward Mak’s office. James could only see two other of Mak’s colleagues still working in their cubicles and that was good news for Deacon.

The bodyguard outside Mak’s office answered his phone and James wondered if Deacon had been picked up already. But, the bodyguard quickly hung up and then his attention was absorbed by something on his phone.

“Now,” James said.

Deacon was light on his feet—a silent assailant—and although Mak’s bodyguard had only been distracted by his phone for a few seconds, it gave Deacon the element of surprise. By the time the bodyguard saw him, it was too late—Deacon had a pre-prepared syringe jammed in the bodyguard’s neck.

The man flinched, gurgled, and then collapsed into Deacon’s arms.

“Fucking heavy bastard,”
Deacon said, and James and Samuel smiled as they watched Deacon haul the man into an unattended cubicle and tuck him under the desk.

“Hold,” James said. “Target approaching.”

Mak was returning to her office, strangely without her mug.
What is she doing?
James thought, watching her as she neared the cubicle Deacon was hiding in.

James was silent now. Deacon would be able to hear her footsteps and he knew what to do next. When she was two steps past the cubicle, Deacon grabbed Mak from behind. His left hand went straight to her mouth, and his right hand crossed over the front of her body, pinning her arms down and her back to his chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Walk toward your office,”
Deacon said.

Mak didn’t move.

“Mak, you’re okay. Move, one foot in front of the other.”

She remained as stationary as a signpost but James watched as Deacon gently guided her forward. She was so petite, so slight, and would be so easy to maneuver.

They stepped over the threshold of her office and James’ eyes flickered to the screen with the best view.

“Mak, I’m going to take my hand away if you promise not to scream.”

Her head nodded stiffly and James felt bad that she was terrified but there was no way to truly test her security without surprising her, too.

Deacon withdrew his hand and with it she seemed to let go of the breath she’d been holding. Her body fell forward, most likely due to the release of adrenaline, and she gulped in air like he’d been choking her. James watched on as Deacon leaned behind him and closed the door. Mak struggled against his arm so he let her go completely.

She turned to face him, taking two large steps back. Her eyes blazed with anger when she saw him.
“What the fuck?”
she yelled and Deacon put his index finger over his lips.

Samuel chuckled next to James. “Here we go,” Samuel said.

Mak glared at Deacon, unwavering in her fury.
“Are you crazy? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
She balled her hands on her hips and even on the camera she looked ferocious despite her slight stature.

Deacon closed the blinds of her window, giving her a few seconds to calm down before he spoke.

James checked his watch again, noting the time.

“I wanted to test your security,”
Deacon said.

Mak didn’t look impressed.
“And you couldn’t think of another way?”
She shook her head, seeming to clear her muddled thoughts.
“Wait…What are you even doing here? Where is—”

Deacon stopped her, blocking her from opening the blinds.

“He’s taking a nap,”
Deacon said.

“What do you mean he’s taking a nap?”
she said, almost growling at him.

James felt his lips turn up in a slight smile as he watched the scene unfold.

“He’ll be fine in the morning. He’ll have the best sleep of his life,”
Deacon said casually.

“You…I…”
She put her palm to her forehead, clearly overwhelmed at the situation.
“You can’t do that! Where is he?”

“Under the desk in the cubicle three rows to your left.”

She rubbed her fingers over her lips.
“Holy shit,”
she said.
“I’m a lawyer—you do realize that, right?”

“Yes, we’re all too aware of that, Mak,”
Deacon said, sitting down in the chair opposite her desk.
“Take a seat before you fall over,”
he said and she sat down on the edge of the desk like on autopilot. She was definitely still in shock.

Deacon sat silently, and James assumed he was giving her some time for the shock to wear off. Until it had, James knew nothing that came out of Deacon’s mouth was going to help.

Mak looked at him now, really looked at him—staring him down like she was about to interrogate him.

“How mad are you?”
Deacon asked.

“Furiously mad.”

She rested the palms of her hands on the edge of the desk, letting her thin fingers hang over. James looked at the ring on her finger, wondering again if it was her wedding band.

She was quiet for a minute.
“So what’s the plan now, mastermind?”
Mak asked curtly.

“We wait,”
Deacon said, clasping his hands in his lap.

“For what?”
she said, looking around.

“For how long it takes them to realize there’s been a security breach,”
Deacon said.

It had already been far too long.

“Why are you testing them? It’s been several weeks since my handover,” Mak said.

James could tell, as she began to regain some of her composure, that the shock was wearing off.

“We said that we would make sure you were safe. This is part of that; it doesn’t end at handover. You should be prepared, though, because they weren’t expecting this and they aren’t going to be impressed when they realize what I’ve done.”

She scoffed.
“No, I can’t imagine they will be. Holy hell.”

“Want to place a bet on how long it will take them to realize?” Samuel asked, looking across the table at James.

An inappropriate laugh rumbled in James’ throat. Samuel loved to gamble—on anything. “I’m scared to do that. My gut feeling is it’s going to take them a while, but they should already be on it.”

Samuel started typing on his laptop screen and James returned his full attention to the camera screens.

“I’ve been here for long enough that they should’ve banged down the door by now. They’re not doing their job,”
Deacon said.
“So, how is the trial going?”

She raised one eyebrow incredulously.
“You want to talk about the trial?”

Deacon shrugged his shoulders.
“Might as well, since we’ve got a few minutes to pass.”

She looked a little flabbergasted.
“It’s going well, I suppose. It’s hard to know. It’s a tough jury—they don’t give a lot away. A lot like you.”
Her eyes challenged Deacon.

“Me? I let my guard down, but only with those I trust.”

“And who do you trust?”

James noted how Mak had effectively turned the tables so that Deacon was the one answering the questions. Mak always asked a lot of questions, and James liked that about her. She was interested, and she was interesting.

“There’re only three people in this world I completely trust,”
Deacon said.

“That’s not very many.”

“It’s enough. How many do you trust, Mak?”

She thought it over.
“More than three,”
she said with a lighter voice.

James was confident the shock had worn off now—it was always a good strategy to divert the conversation away from the situation.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Deacon said.

James’ eyes flickered to Samuel’s but he simply shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had no idea where this conversation was going either.

James watched Mak closely now.

“You can ask it, but I don’t know if I will answer it,
she said.

“Fair enough,”
Deacon said.
“I read the report, which detailed your husband’s disappearance. Why haven’t you sought to have him declared deceased?”

It was the question that James, Samuel and Deacon had all asked. Did she have a reason to believe he was coming home? A reason that wasn’t on paper, something that wasn’t in a report. Had someone made contact with her and she’d never told anyone about it?

She looked at the floor, crossing her legs. James didn’t think she was going to answer but she did.

“I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me he’s dead,”
she finally said.

“Well, mystery solved,” Samuel said to James.

James nodded his head but didn’t comment. It was the answer he’d wanted to hear, for several different reasons—one of which he didn’t want to admit.

Deacon pressed her further.
“Most people want closure when a loved one goes missing, especially after so many years.”

“Probably. And I guess I would’ve if I’d met someone I was serious about, but things haven’t worked out that way so it doesn’t matter to me if I am legally married or not—I know my husband’s not coming home.”

Deacon nodded his head.
“I understand.”

James checked his watch again, almost in unison with his brother. And as if right on cue, a car screeched to a stop in front of the building and two men jumped out.

“Approaching,” James said.