Page 39 of Insidious Threats
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Leo rapped his knuckles on Naya’s doorframe. She shifted her gaze from her computer monitor to her office doorway. A smile lit her face when she saw her visitor.
“Flyboy, this is a surprise.” She gestured for him to come in.
He plopped down into the chair closest to the door with a laugh. “You do know I haven’t worked as an air marshal in over a decade, right?”
“You’ll always be flyboy to me. Top-secret-could-tell-you-but-then-I’d-have-to-kill-you-boy doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“Fair point. So big day for you and Maisy, huh?” He grinned at her.
“Long overdue, but yeah. The wire transfer should come through in the next hour. Maisy’s on her way in with mimosas and bagels for the whole office if you want to stick around to celebrate.”
“Mimosas, huh? You two didn’t learn any lessons last night?”
That earned him a grimace. “Yeah, I learned that ouzo is the devil’s own spit. But luckily, Carl remembered your disgusting green hangover cure and made me drink it first thing this morning. Man, that works like a charm. Maisy said your wife delivered a glass to her this morning. Good thinking on her part. What’s in it, anyway?”
“You don’t want to know,” he assured her.
She gave him a skeptical look. “Probably a placebo, anyway.”
“Sure. You should believe that.”
“Are you looking for Sasha? I don’t know where she is. Maisy said she left her place over an hour ago, but she hasn’t turned up.”
“She had to go out to Cinco Prescott’s house. It’s a long story. I’m sure she’ll fill you in when she gets here. I’m actually looking for Maisy. Or Jordana,” he told her.
“Oh? Why?”
Here, Leo paused to think. He was more than willing to obfuscate, mislead, or outright lie for Uncle Sam. But this side project was off the books, and, as a rule, he didn’t lie in his personal life. Especially not to his friends. He could, as all these lawyers loved to say, shape the narrative, though. Tell the truth, but in a way to make her want to help him.
“I have some time on my hands,” he began.
“Well, that’s good. The busier you and Hank are, the scarier the world is. Right?”
“Something like that. Anyway, with all this free time, I thought I could help Maisy and Jordana go through Lewis’ papers. The ones the firm’s been storing for his ex-wife.”
She pursed her lips and eyeballed him. “That’s a weird way to spend your down time. Why don’t you, I don’t know, go skiing or something?”
He leaned forward and gave her an earnest look. “There are a lot of unanswered questions surrounding Lewis’ death. Some of them are eating at me. I have a skill set that, no offense, Jordana and Maisy don’t. I could be useful.”
Naya’s response was lost to the chaos of Maisy’s arrival at the office. Her southern accent floated down the hallway from Caroline’s reception desk and through Naya’s open door as she trilled, “It’s party time, y’all.”
Naya stood. “Come on, let’s toast Maisy’s millionairedom and you can talk to her about it.”
They followed the chatter and laughter to the large conference room, the one they seemed to use mainly for parties. Most of the office had already gathered. Leo scanned the faces, looking for McCandless, Volmer & Andrews’ IT wizard, August.
Just as Leo spotted August and started to head toward him, Will Volmer intercepted Leo, handed him a champagne flute, and launched into a lament about the Steelers’ failure to secure a spot in the playoffs. Leo’d lived in Pittsburgh long enough to know that one didn’t simply walk away from a conversation about football—especially not one as raw as this one. August would have to wait.
“Listen up, y’all,” Maisy said, her musical voice somehow cutting through the conversation. “I just want to thank everyone for helping me hold the station’s feet to the fire, especially Naya and Sasha.” She paused and surveyed the room. “Where is she?”
“Right here, Mais,” Sasha said as she breezed into the conference room, still wearing her coat and clutching a sheaf of papers in her hands.
A tall woman with blonde hair and an angular face trailed Sasha. She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe a new legal intern? She seemed uncertain about being there, and she was young. Not as young as Jordana, but young enough to make Leo realize he was turning into a geezer. Just last week, he’d asked his dentist if she was even old enough to drive a car, let alone poke at his mouth with a sharp implement. She’d just poked him harder.
Caroline offered Sasha and the young woman champagne flutes.
Sasha waved her off. “Let me dump my coat and these papers in my office. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, everyone make our newest litigation associate feel welcome. Everyone, this is Eleanor Prescott. Eleanor, this is everyone.”
