The Agent's Surrender. Kimberly Van Meter
Reed wonder what the hell was truly going on. “It isn’t every day that I receive requests for a meeting outside of certain circles.”
“I can appreciate that. As you know, Tessara Pharm has suffered a number of unfortunate events lately, most notably with one of our major founders, Penelope Granger, aka Penny Winslow, who was found guilty of running I.D. as her own personal hit squad through her association with Tom Wyatt.”
“Yes, I am aware,” Reed said. “Corruption is an equal-opportunity contaminant.”
“Yes, so it would seem. Tessara Pharm has suffered its fair share of bad press, and as such, we would be happy to leave all that sordid business in the past, as you can well imagine.”
“Of course.”
“So when we heard the case involving Miko Archangelo had been reopened, we were concerned how that might affect Tessara Pharm.”
Ah...the true reason for the visit. “These things happen. New evidence cropped up and we’re obligated to follow the trail wherever it may lead.”
“New evidence?” At Reed’s noncommittal nod, Ulysses frowned. “What possible new evidence could there be? Both Penny and Miko are dead and I.D. has been shut down.”
“Let’s put a pin in that question for a moment and draw attention to a question I have—how exactly do you have knowledge of a classified investigation? As far as I’m aware, Tessara Pharm is not on the executive payroll...or is it?”
A slow, cold smile spread across his face, as if amused that Reed was questioning him. That alone was enough to get the man thrown out, but something stayed Reed’s hand. Something wasn’t right and it wasn’t just that Ulysses was trying to pry information out of him.
The man cocked his head to the side. “Let’s just say that people in high places have expressed an interest in seeing that the Archangelo case remains closed. People need to be able to move on, Chief Harris. Surely you understand that?”
Reed didn’t like the man’s tone. A shiver of warning played “Taps” on his spine. He clasped his hands carefully atop his desk and waited. Again that cold smile appeared.
“There is no conspiracy,” Ulysses continued. “No big cover-up. Just businesspeople concerned that dredging up bad history will lead to a bad future for their bottom line. Shareholders are sensitive to fluctuations in their dividends. It’s our job to make sure those dips and valleys aren’t too sharp.”
“And it’s my job to make sure the security of our nation isn’t at risk,” Reed countered smoothly. “Frankly, I could give two shits about your shareholders’ bottom line, and you have some balls to come in here and expect me to dance to your tune just because you know a few people. Well, news flash...I know a few people, too.”
“I see.” Ulysses dropped the smile, which was fine by Reed; they both knew it was fake. “I guess it’ll have to come down to who knows the better people.”
He laughed. “I answer to the president. Who do you answer to? A bunch of entitled rich people? I think I win.”
Ulysses rose and adjusted his suit coat. “I’d hoped we could see eye to eye on this.”
“I don’t see how we could,” Reed said with frank amusement. “We seem to be on opposite continents.”
“So it would seem.”
Ulysses showed himself to the door and walked out without further comment. It wasn’t until Ulysses had left the building that Reed let out his held breath. Something foul was afoot. It would appear Holden was right; there was more to the story than met the eye. Was Miko simply a pawn in a bigger game? And if so, who was the true game master? The entire situation left a bad taste in his mouth, but he had no doubt if there was something to be found, Holden would find it.
Reed’s only fear? Miko had already paid for his involvement with his life. Reed sure as hell didn’t want his two best agents to pay the same price.
* * *
The Realtor, none too happy to be out in the blustery weather with two people who plainly weren’t going to be buying, opened the front door of the bar and stamped his feet free of the snow clinging to his boots. “Two floors. The upstairs was the office area.” He looked at his watch. “Do you know how long this is going to take?”
“You can wait in your car if you prefer,” Holden suggested and the Realtor was only too happy to take him up on his suggestion.
After the man had disappeared, Holden and Jane clicked on their flashlights, illuminating the dim interior. The bar had been closed for almost six months, but the stale smell of beer remained. Holden had visited a few times right after Miko purchased it. It was supposed to be the thing that kept him busy after retirement, he recalled, the memory springing to mind...
“A bar?” Holden had exclaimed as Miko drove them to the location for the first time. “You bought a bar?”
“Yeah, sounded like a good idea at the time,” Miko had said, grinning. “What could be better than being the proprietor of good times? I figure I might as well make a little money at the place where I most often frequent on my downtime, right?”
“Owning a bar is more than just free beer, Miko,” Holden had said, frowning. “It’s a huge responsibility.”
“Stop being such a wet blanket. Things are good. I’m no longer punching a clock and I’ve landed a pretty sweet side gig, so I can afford to lose money on the bar for years before I start to sweat. And if it gets to be too much of a pain in the ass, I’ll just unload it. So stop worrying.”
Holden had glanced around the bar, grudgingly noting the whiskey-soaked charm of the place, and he’d realized his brother could make a killing if managed properly. But Miko was all about the good time, not the profit margin. He had thought then that even if Miko put minimal effort into the bar, it’d still turn a profit, which had been reassuring. Good location, clean but not too pristine, with a lived-in, comfortable feel. Like the bar in that show Cheers. Where everyone knew your name. He had looked to Miko, who had still been awaiting his opinion, and said with a smile, “Tell me about this side gig.” Miko had just shaken his head and hooked his arm around Holden’s shoulders.
“First, we celebrate. Life is good, my brother. Life is good.”
As Miko’s voice faded from Holden’s memory, his eyes stung. “You okay?” Jane asked, peering at him. “You look as if you’re going to cry.”
“I’m fine,” he said roughly, heading toward the staircase, then taking the steps two at a time. He detoured to the left and opened the door to Miko’s private office with Jane on his heels. To her credit, she didn’t pester him to share his feelings, and he was grateful. His grief over the death of his twin was something he kept close to his heart and covered with plenty of layers—he didn’t have the luxury of breaking down. The hardwood floor creaked beneath their feet and echoed in the nearly empty room. Everything of value had been stripped from the walls and sold at auction. Only Miko’s desk remained for staging purposes. A small, high window let in cold, milky light, but the gloom in the room seemed to seep into Holden’s bones. A sense of danger clung to the shadows, and he pushed the disquieting sensation away so he could focus.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one keying in on the weirdness in the room. “The mind plays tricks on you when you know someone died violently in the space you’re in,” Jane said, rubbing at her arms and shivering inside her thick jacket. “But even still, this place is giving me the creeps. Can we get on with it before hypothermia hits?” She glanced around with irritation. “I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“Anything.”
“Well, thank you for that completely unhelpful direction.” She gestured to the still room. “Nothing’s here. Everything’s been cleaned out, either to sell or to put into evidence.”
She wasn’t saying anything that Holden couldn’t