She had no idea what had caused the eventual rift between him and Holstrom; she could only thank her lucky stars that Neil was on her side.
“First of all, stealing the Degas isn’t the answer. I assume you meant you would turn it over to the authorities,” Neil said with a faint smile. “That won’t prove Foster didn’t steal it.”
About to argue, she realized he was right. “I have to prove the original has been in Holstrom’s possession all along.”
Neil nodded. “Unfortunately, that will still require access to his estate,” he said, running a critical gaze over Kensey. “But I don’t imagine it would take much for you to catch Holstrom’s attention.”
She took no offense. Not with Neil. But the thought of using her sexuality to snare the man made her shudder inside, although she knew she could do it, if that was what it would take. “Go on.”
“His office is in Boston where there happens to be a major security convention next week. He’ll begin the night before the conference officially opens with a party at The Four Seasons or the Mandarin Oriental hotel where he’ll parade his wealth like Caligula. Business will be done there, but the point will be to show off how rich and powerful he is. I’ll make a call, get you registered at the conference and put you together with a friend of mine. Knowing Sam, she’ll be very helpful. By then I’ll have gotten as much information on Holstrom as I’m able to, and we’ll go from there. You should know I can’t get you on the list for the party.”
Kensey nodded, marveling at how much her boss knew about Holstrom, but also wondering just how much Neil Patterson knew about her.
She’d said very little about her past, so she didn’t see how he could understand the nature of her early relationship with her father. How he’d taught her to be more than a decoy when she was younger. He’d pressed her to learn three languages, to take gymnastics and keep herself limber. She’d added martial arts, and he’d approved. And she’d sat at his feet, learning to become any character he needed, from naive waif to budding seductress. Not that he had let anything happen to her, but she’d been a very convincing actress.
He was meticulous. Every heist was studied until he understood everything he’d need to grab what he was after. Timetables, security systems, safes. The reason Douglas Foster had never been caught was that he never left his exit strategies to luck.
All of his expertise had been passed down to her. She’d believed, up until the day he disappeared from her life, that he’d been molding her into his protégé.
Even now her blood pulsed through her system like a maelstrom, the call to danger as familiar as breathing, but far more exciting. If she pulled this off...if she proved Douglas Foster innocent, he would see who she’d become. That she didn’t need him at all.
“YOU’RE GOING TO miss your flight, and you’ll feel horrible and probably do something self-destructive like flirt with someone wildly unsuitable who’ll end up stealing your wallet.”
“That happened one time.” Logan McCabe frowned at his sister. His advice to anyone who wanted a nice, sane life? Don’t have a sister. Actually, it should be don’t have his sister. Lisa was newly engaged and particularly chipper these days. He couldn’t wait to get to Boston. “Would you stop interrupting? I just want to make sure I’ve crossed all the t’s.”
“Now you’re blaming me for your jitters? What happened to the old nerves of steel? Mr. Former CIA Covert Ops—”
He looked up from his business proposal to catch her gaze. “Lisa, you know better.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wincing. “I won’t do that again. I swear.”
No one else was in the office. He knew she hadn’t meant anything by what she said. But he worried that some day she’d kid around in front of the wrong person and they’d both be in serious trouble. The blame fell on him. He and Lisa were close, but he’d had no business telling her about his work for the CIA. He hadn’t told her anything specific, but he should have kept his mouth shut, period.
She rose from one of the visitors’ chairs in his Lower East Side office. The furniture was fine, if you didn’t care about comfort. But then anyone sitting across from him in this office wouldn’t give a damn about comfort or style or anything so trivial. He met clients elsewhere. The office was reserved for veterans like himself. The hardcore, superbly trained members of the Navy SEALs, Green Berets, Delta Force, Twenty-fourth Special Tactics, or Army Rangers. Some of whom, like him, had been recruited by the CIA to take on high-risk missions the military couldn’t perform. But the guys he helped, the ones who were just returning from active duty, all shared the monumental task of learning how to live among civilians. Becoming a civilian was, as far as Logan was concerned, impossible.
It had taken a long time, but finally he’d realized he could utilize his experience to make a difference. For himself. And for the others who had the best training in the world, but no place to put their skills to work. “I wish you were coming with me,” he told Lisa, mostly to let her know he wasn’t pissed. “Each time I talk to Sam it seems she’s leaped ahead another ten years. Her equipment is so advanced it would blow your mind. And she’s one of the best when it comes to spyware.”
“I’m more interested in that apartment of hers. It sounds very sci-fi.”
“It’s still a prototype, but yeah, it should be interesting. Hey, what time is it?”
“Too tired to turn your wrist? You’ve got an hour before you have to be at the airport.”
Rolling his eyes wasn’t something he did with his sister. He’d never get anything else done if he started. But the urge never died.
“You want to rehearse your presentation again?” she asked. “Or go over your pitch for Holstrom?”
Logan had agreed to give a talk so that he could get the word out about his model for staffing, but now he was sorry. It was critical to win the security contract from Ian Holstrom. The rest could wait. “If I lost my PowerPoint tomorrow, I’d be able to give the spiel in my sleep.”
“Does that mean you’re worried about Holstrom?”
He nodded. “There are two other top outfits gunning for the contract, and both of them are established in the field.”
“You’re established,” she said. “You’ve overseen three major operations already, and you’ve only been doing this for two years.”
Logan leaned back until he felt the lumbar support on his big leather chair settle into the sweet spot. “Two years versus ten?”
“Didn’t you tell me Holstrom wants new blood?”
“That’s what he said. I have no idea if he meant it.”
“Presuming he didn’t, what would you do?”
He gave her question some thought, but didn’t share his suspicion that Holstrom might be blowing smoke about the competition. Yeah, the two other companies had great track records but they didn’t have the kind of field experience Logan had, nor did they have his insight into the type of man with the skills of a special-ops soldier. Holstrom had been clear that he wanted only the best for the most critical jobs. Not just a bunch of mercenaries. But he didn’t blame Holstrom for using the threat of competitors. That was just business. But in case it wasn’t a ploy, Logan was determined not to get too smug. Too many people were depending on him.
“Nothing very different,” he said in answer to Lisa. “I’d put more emphasis on the fact that I only recruit spec-ops vets for critical assignments. That everyone on the team has mandatory counseling and ongoing training in tactics, advanced firearms and