Page 67 of The Atlas Maneuver

The rear compartment did not open into the driver’s cab.

So she walked back to the rear and faced the windowless doors.

KYRA FOLLOWED THE CAR FROM THEJAPANESE CONSULATE, TAKINGover for her man who’d started the task. She was biding her time, doing as Catherine Gledhill instructed.

Staying ready.

She watched as the car parked, then a woman exited the vehicle. Middle-aged. Dark hair. Japanese. And examined an unmarked white van. The angle gave her a good view of the face, so she snapped several pictures with her cell phone through the front windshield.

KELLY THOUGHT SHE HAD THE UPPER HAND. CONTROL THE BITCOINprivate keys and she controlled the bank. It had all seemed so simple. But a shadow of constraint had now enveloped her.

I have what you want most in this world.

And she’d listened in astonishment to Katie Gledhill.

“You confided in me,” Katie said. “You told me something so personal, so painful, that it affected me.”

She had indeed done just that. A few years ago. Why? At the time it seemed okay. One friend to another.

“You mentioned back then that you’d like to know the truth,” Katie said. “So I hired people to find out. I was going to surprise you, and offer the information, if you wanted it. I could sense that you wanted to know. I thought it would make you happy. Provide some peace. Then all this happened and I discovered you were not the friend I thought you were.”

“So you use it now, as a bribe? A way to get the keys back? Is that what a friend does to another friend?”

“Don’t talk to me about abuses. You’ve put us all in a terrible position.”

“Do you truly have no shame?”

“You started this, Kelly. I’m simply doing what I have to do. Now you have to decide how bad you want that information.”

“If you found it, so can I.”

“Don’t be so sure. It wasn’t easy. It took three years, and I can erase the trail as fast as it was found.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“If that were the case then you would have already hung up,” Katie said. “After all, you hold the superior hand.”

“Then why do I feel vulnerable?”

“Blame that on the choice you made long ago.”

She’d grossly underestimated her opponent. Katie Gledhill had found her soft spot. The one thing she could not ignore.

Not again.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

She redialed the number.

What had before been purely business had just turned deeply personal.

CATHERINE SAT IN HER DINING ROOM, HER HAIR TIED BACK WITH Asilver scarf that matched the one at her neck. Her business suit was dove gray, tailored, elegant, from a Parisian couturier. Fine clothes were, to her, tools. The right ensemble, chosen carefully and worn properly, portrayed authority. Confidence. And first impressions counted, since a strong one left a lasting impact. The world was judgmental. People were quick to make assumptions based simply on what they saw, and a proper appearance radiated self-respect and self-worth. It also made her more productive. Feeling good led to working good.

She poured herself another cup of hot water and prepared her tea.

A lot was happening.

Far more than she’d ever imagined would be present at this point in their plan. The visit with her mother last night still rang loud in her mind. New strategies had been discussed. Plans altered. The older woman remained sharp as a piece of broken glass. In the bedlater she’d thought back to lessons from the past. So many. But one in particular she’d never forgotten.

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