Page 29 of Remote Access

“I started highlighting hispurchasestoday because there are a lot of them. Some are higher end things, so there should be transactions, but some aren’t—just hard to find.”

“Do you remember any dates offhand?”

Lane smiled up at him. “I can do better than that.” He reluctantly left Quincy’s lap to grab the stack he’d put together. “I started pulling these files from the others, so everything is hopelessly out of order now.”

Quincy took the stack and started rifling through it. “He has a particular weakness for English antique guns.”

Lane looked away. “I lifted one of those, so I remember it well.” He turned and grabbed a filter, glad they’d stopped for a proper coffee maker instead of relying on the single-serve crappy one that came with the room. After getting the brew going, he turned and leaned his ass against the counter to watch Quincy as he frowned at the papers.

“We need to understand the codes for the kids. TAD we know is you, then there is CB and NC and oh, I found one with only one line. BET. Only this line didn’t have any goods to or from, just the letters LC.”

“Bet? As in wager? Let me see.” He walked back to the bed.

“I don’t think so. It’s in the same place as the other initials, so I think it’s another person.” Quincy went through the papers until he found it and handed it to Lane.

“LC I know. I heard Hayrick use the term often. He was always talking about the long con. So whoever this BET is, they are on something more than a burglary.” He scratched his head. “BET is driving me nuts, nagging at something at the back of my mind like Fagin.” He stared at the three letters until his eyes crossed and his head started pounding.

Fagin.

TAD.

BET.

Fagin…

“Holy shit!” he yelled, clenching the paper in his fist. “Oliver fucking Twist!”

Someone banged on the wall and Lane flipped his finger in that direction. Then he couldn’t stop himself from cheering and doing a little dance.

“Not to stop whatever celebration you’re having, because it’s cute, but all I know about that movie is a poor kid begging for gruel.”

“The important part is Fagin. He was the man who took in homeless boys and made them steal.” He shook his head as heat crept up his neck. “How did I not clue into this before?”

“Because it’s out of left field?”

“I should have caught this. The acronyms on the names threw me off, but I missed the BET line altogether. So that means TAD is…I’m the Artful Dodger.” Lane plucked his fedora off the table, spun it and put it onto his head. “The leader of the group of thieves who liked to dress in adult clothes.” He tapped the hat. “I’ve always liked these hats.”

“So Hayrick Letsen preyed on children and these initials represent each one.”

“NC is probably Noah Claypole. He was big and a bully.” The memory of Helix hit him, and like it did every time, caused a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. God, the beating that poor kid had been taken…

“How good is your memory of the movie?” Quincy held up one of the sheets and it didn’t escape Lane’s notice that his hand was shaking. “This symbol of a bee? Can you guess what it’s about?”

“Mr. Bumble, probably.” Lane approached the bed. “He was an evil bureaucrat in the story.”

Quincy started patting the bed around him.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for that pen we were using. We should have grabbed more when we got the coffee.”

Lane leaned over and started feeling around himself. He pushed his hands under Quincy’s legs, then straddled his waist and slid both arms around his waist to feel his back.

One brown eyebrow went up. “The pen isn’t back there, but I may have a few other places you could look. After I do this one thing.”

He studied Quincy, taking in the barely concealed excitement. “You figured something else out, didn’t you?” He found the pen, handed it to him, and crawled off his lap. “The bee symbol? I’ve seen it on a bunch of things.”

“Show me.”

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