Chapter 2 - The Man Who Sold Her Identity|
Genevieve stared at the photograph inside the folder, unable to believe that the man who had trained her to recognize betrayal might have betrayed her first.
Special Agent Thomas Kesler had supervised her undercover assignment for eight months.
He knew her real name, her emergency contact numbers, the address of her apartment in Brooklyn, and the childhood tragedy that had driven her into federal law enforcement.
He also knew that she had spent the last three weeks searching for evidence connecting Arthur Pendleton's charitable foundation to a network of fraudulent shipping transactions.
Now his signature sat beneath a photograph that should never have left a restricted federal file.
“Where did you get this?” she demanded.
Mateo Viscanti watched her with an expression that revealed nothing.
“From someone who was paid to deliver it to Arthur Pendleton.”
“That's impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
She picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
Beneath it was a single-page memorandum carrying the seal of a private security consulting firm.
Her name appeared beside the words FEDERAL ASSET — IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED.
The instructions underneath were worse.
Upon activation of the ballroom security protocol, escort the subject through the eastern service entrance and transfer custody to the designated retrieval team.
At the bottom was Kesler's signature.
Genevieve felt sick.
“The attack wasn't just about killing you,” she whispered.
Mateo leaned forward.
“Tell me what you mean.”
She remembered the gunfire, the screaming guests, and the moment Arthur had grabbed her arm beside the service door.
She remembered how quickly he had insisted that she needed to give her statement somewhere private.
“He was trying to remove me from the ballroom.”
“And when you witnessed him helping the gunman, removing you became considerably more important.”
Genevieve looked toward the driver.
“Does he know who I am?”
“Gabriel has been driving for me for twelve years.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
The driver's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.
“No, ma'am, I don't know who you are, and I would prefer to keep it that way.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled.
Then Mateo reached for the folder.
“Arthur hired men to kill me tonight, but he also arranged a separate team to take you.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping you could answer that.”
Genevieve touched her right earring.
The silver setting contained a tiny compartment designed to hold a removable memory card.
Inside was something Arthur Pendleton had spent years preventing investigators from discovering.
Three hours before the gala attack, Mara Chen, the Aster Foundation's chief accounting officer, had secretly passed Genevieve an encrypted copy of the foundation's internal financial records.
The files contained years of payments to offshore companies, falsified charitable shipping invoices, and transactions involving businesses connected to Viscanti Shipping.
Mara had been terrified.
She had whispered that the information would explain why three men died in a Brooklyn warehouse fire twelve years earlier.
One of those men had been Genevieve's father.
Martin Sinclair.
A maritime safety inspector who had supposedly entered the wrong warehouse at the wrong time.
Genevieve had never believed the official explanation.
Now she was beginning to understand why her father had died.
Mateo noticed her hand moving toward her ear.
“What are you carrying?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Arthur?”
“Against everyone.”
He didn't ask another question.
Instead, he took out his phone and placed a call.
“Gabriel, change the route,” he instructed after a short conversation.
The driver nodded and turned away from the main avenue.
Genevieve looked through the window.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a residence Arthur doesn't control.”
“You mean your house.”
“A different residence.”
“And what happens when we get there?”
Mateo turned toward her.
“You get a private room, a working phone, and the opportunity to decide your next move.”
She studied him suspiciously.
“That doesn't sound like something a mafia boss would say.”
“Perhaps you should stop believing everything in your investigation file.”
“Perhaps you should stop assuming I haven't confirmed it.”
For the first time, Mateo's expression changed.
Not anger.
Something closer to reluctant respect.
“Fair enough.”
The car passed through a nearly deserted intersection.
Ahead, the traffic signal turned red.
Gabriel slowed.
Suddenly, a black SUV emerged from a parking garage on their left.
A second vehicle appeared behind them.
Mateo's hand moved immediately toward the center console.
“Gabriel.”
“I see them.”
Genevieve twisted in her seat.
The SUV behind them accelerated.
Its headlights filled the Mercedes.
“These are Arthur's people?” she asked.
“I doubt they're bringing wedding gifts.”
A violent impact struck the rear bumper.
Genevieve grabbed the seat belt as the Mercedes lurched forward.
Gabriel accelerated through the intersection, narrowly avoiding a delivery truck.
Someone in the pursuing SUV lowered a passenger window.
Mateo caught Genevieve by the shoulder and pulled her below the window line.
A sharp crack rang through the street.
The armored rear glass fractured into a web of pale lines.
Genevieve's heart slammed against her ribs.
“They're shooting!”
“Stay down.”
The Mercedes swerved into a narrow side street.
Another shot struck the bodywork.
Gabriel drove through an opening between two construction barriers, the vehicle scraping concrete as it emerged onto an empty avenue.
For nearly four minutes, the pursuit continued through Manhattan's wet streets.
Then Gabriel made a sudden turn into an underground parking entrance.
A steel security gate began descending behind them.
The pursuing SUV appeared at the intersection just as the barrier slammed shut.
Silence filled the car.
Genevieve realized she was gripping Mateo's wrist.
He looked down at her hand.
Then he looked into her eyes.
“You can let go now.”
She released him immediately.
“Don't look so pleased with yourself.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were almost smiling.”
“Only because you threatened to arrest me five minutes ago.”
“I still might.”
“Then I'll consider tonight a successful first date.”
She stared at him.
“You are completely insane.”
“Frequently accused, never medically confirmed.”
The driver's door opened.
Gabriel stepped out and spoke quietly into his phone.
Genevieve turned toward Mateo again.
“There's something you need to understand.”
“I'm listening.”
“If Kesler really betrayed me, my entire operation is compromised.”
“I know.”
“The people monitoring Arthur's accounts may be in danger.”
“I know.”
“And I cannot simply disappear with you while evidence gets destroyed.”
Mateo's expression became serious.
“Then we make sure it doesn't.”
He reached into the folder and removed another photograph.
This one showed Arthur Pendleton standing outside a shipping warehouse beside a younger man Genevieve recognized immediately.
Her father.
The photograph was dated three days before the warehouse fire.
Genevieve forgot how to breathe.
“Where did you get that?”
Mateo studied her face.
“From my father's private records.”
“Your father knew Martin Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Mateo hesitated.
That hesitation frightened her more than the gunshots.
Finally, he answered.
“My father believed Martin Sinclair was murdered because he discovered who really controlled the waterfront.”
Genevieve's voice dropped to a whisper.
“Who?”
Mateo looked toward the photograph.
“Arthur Pendleton.”
Then his phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent him a photograph.
It showed Genevieve's apartment door standing open.
May you like
Beneath it was a message.
Tell your new fiancée that her old life is already gone.
