Triumph (8 page)

“It’s an interesting sensation, I can tell you that.” He motioned the cocktail waitress over and requested a scotch and soda, which was quickly set in front of him.

Deke straightened in his chair. “Okay. We have drinks. Talk to me.”

She got through the events of the day as fast as she could, winding it up with her visit to the police station.

“Good to get that over with. The lieutenant is going to ask Gordon for that footage, though,” he said thoughtfully.

“Do you know him? Lieutenant Dwight, I mean.”

“No. But that’s my best guess.” He looked at her steadily.

“What?” Kelly knew her face was flushed—it didn’t take much wine to make that happen for someone fair and blond—and she could feel the careless knot of hair unraveling at the nape of her neck. She wound a strand of it nervously around one finger, then let it go and pushed it back.

“I still want to see that footage. Maybe we can do something for each other.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, an easy motion that suggested the strength hidden by the shirt. “Your boss canceled your pet project, and Dwight told you not to investigate the shooting. Therefore, you need something to do to stay out of trouble.”

She just stared at him. Right now Deke Bannon looked like plenty of trouble for any woman, let alone her. It had been too long.

“Deke, I know what I saw at that building and I know what I heard on the scanners—”

“Do us both a favor. Keep all of it to yourself.”

He didn’t add
and be a good girl.
But she got the idea. Kelly scowled at him. “Indefinitely?”

“For now.”

“Do you need me to agree? I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Kelly, even I have to step back on this part of the case. The evidence is being analyzed and the murders fall under the jurisdiction of the police, not us. But there’s another investigation going on—I can tell you that it’s related to the shooting, and that’s about it. Good enough?”

“I guess so.”

“First of all, I’m heading it up. And I could use your help.”

“I don’t file. I don’t type fast. And I’m a little too recognizable.”

She took off her glasses and pulled at hairpins. The knot came undone and a river of lustrous blond hair poured over her shoulders. The big man at the nearby table gawked at her. Deke didn’t notice, transfixed for a moment.

“See what I mean?”

“Huh. Yes. I do. Actually, that could be an advantage.” He set aside his scotch and soda, smiling at her.

“I’m not following you,” she said, puzzled.

“Let’s take this discussion outside. There’s no one on the terrace.”

Kelly hesitated, then decided to listen. She gathered up her things and walked past the big man, not glancing down. She didn’t need any more admirers, secret or not. The low hum of conversation and clink of glasses in the bar were shut out when Deke closed the door to the terrace behind them.

The infinity pool reflected the rising moon, which cast white light and deep shadows over the scene. Kelly stuffed her belongings into the handbag and set it on a chaise. She began to walk around the perimeter of the pool, hoping no one would come out for a night swim. Just looking at it soothed her restlessness.

“All right, Bannon. We’re alone. Talk me into it.”

“We’ve been following a trail of dirty money.”

“I want to be sure I understand, so pretend I’m not familiar with the term. And keep it simple,” she added.

Deke paused, searching for the right words. “Criminal enterprises generate a lot of cash, and they have to keep moving it around. They launder it, they smuggle it, they use it to finance other criminal enterprises. Drugs. Sex trafficking. Murder for hire. Following me so far?”

“Yes.”

He walked by her side. “We’re looking at a lot of people in the same web. Lately we zeroed in on someone you may have heard of. Gunther Bach.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she murmured.

“Bach is the CEO of a private bank here in Atlanta, and he only takes multimillionaires as clients. He may be running a pyramid scheme.”

Kelly shook her head. “You know, it’s really, really hard to feel sorry for people who are rich and stupid. Tell me why I should care.”

“Get Bach on tape for me and you’ll have first crack at a story that’s bigger than anything you’ve ever done. I can’t give you all the details right now, but believe me, they’re juicy.”

She stopped. “And you mentioned that it’s related to the shooting.”

“Did I say that?”

Kelly rolled her eyes and sighed. “You know you did. Can we stay on topic here?”

“Sure.”

“How much risk is involved?”

“That’s hard to predict. Some. Not much.”

She didn’t press the point. “I don’t get what you’re hoping to achieve. If I ask Gunther Bach a few questions, he’s not going to confess to anything.”

“You’re right about that.” His dark eyes held an amused gleam. “I only need a clear sample of his voice on tape. We voice-identified all the bad guys but one on a wireless intercept of a secret meeting. If we can match a voiceprint closely enough to the unknown one on the intercept, it means he was there.”

“Which won’t put him out of business. That’s one piece of evidence.”

Deke waved that away. “But important for building a case and getting a warrant.”

Kelly folded her arms across her chest. Deke seemed to think he had her in the bag, judging by his expression. He didn’t.

“Look, we think Bach is looking to burnish his reputation and attract new clients. He’d jump at the chance to be interviewed by you. We can rig a smartphone. Just put it on the table next to your car keys. He’d be a pushover for all the moves you tried on me.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone grew noticeably cool.

“You know. The friendly smile. The soft voice. The leaning in.”

“That’s standard interview technique,” she said tightly. “I didn’t make any ‘moves’ on you, Bannon. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t aware I was being interviewed at the time.”

Kelly stopped pacing. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

“I’ll shut up while I’m ahead.”

She turned to face him and tapped him lightly on the chest. “You want something else, don’t you?”

He got right to the point. “The video from the shooting. It’s safest to transfer it to a flash drive. I’m assuming you have one.”

“You talk like this is a done deal,” she said indignantly. “It isn’t.”

“I need an answer by tomorrow.”

His reply seriously irked her. This was all about him.

“Why the urgency?”

“We’ve been tailing him. Bach may leave the country tomorrow. For good.”

“All right. I’ll call you by ten. But I’m not going to leave a message. You have to pick up.” She shouldn’t have encouraged him to the degree that she had. They were both angling for an advantage. Somehow she’d lost the round.

But a story was a story. She really did live for the rush. There was nothing like it.

“I’ll pick up. And if you say no, it’s not a problem.”

Kelly snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

“Now how about I buy you dinner? They serve a great steak.”

“No thanks.” She walked back to the chaise and picked up her overloaded bag. “I’m not really hungry. I need to get home and catch up on my sleep.”

He looked significantly disappointed. Tough luck. Taking the wind out of his sails was kind of fun.

“Deke—one more thing before we go any further. I think I was followed after I left the club last night. By two men. Any ideas on that?”

He straightened, serious again. The animal alertness came back. She liked that. She had nothing more to say as he walked her back to the glass doors and through the bar.

The big guy who’d been eying her was gone, and so were the affectionate couples. A new crowd of noisy singles had taken over the bar, with the women perched on the stools and the men standing by them and among them, vying for their attention.

“You sure?” he asked in a low voice when they reached the foyer by the elevators.

“I’ve been debating that most of the day. By now, yes, I’m sure. They didn’t do anything. There was only one at first. He just—got too close. Said things that were off. And then there was a car, going too fast.”

“Do you remember the plates?”

“No. It was way after midnight. I was scared.”

“Could you describe the first man if you had to?” Deke asked. He seemed suddenly very curious.

“Middle-aged. Very ordinary.”

“Anything stand out? You know, like a hairstyle or a birthmark?” He watched her closely.

“Nothing like that. He was well-groomed, had a nice suit—he was polite at first. I thought he was a fan. Then he came nearer without ever touching me. I had to step back. He totally creeped me out.”

If she had to guess, she would say Deke was making mental notes of every word.

“I was just glad to make it home in one piece.”

“And you live—”

“In a rented condo.”

“How’s the security?”

“There’s a doorman, day and night. Surveillance cameras. Valet parking—I don’t have to walk through a garage or a lot.”

“I’m driving home with you.” Deke held up a hand when she began to protest. “Separate cars. Don’t argue.”

 

Her phone rang the second the door shut behind her. Couldn’t be Deke, not so soon after he’d dropped her off. Kelly upended her purse on the couch and found the phone in the tumbled contents before the ringing stopped. It was Laura.

“Hi. I meant to call you.” Kelly felt a little guilty that she hadn’t. It wasn’t like she was nursing a grudge against Laura for doing the right thing and going to the cops before she got around to it. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, I guess. I just wanted to touch base. I haven’t been back to WBRX since—you know.”

“The shootout.” Laura could be awfully sensitive. Kelly believed in saying what needed to be said.

“It gave me nightmares. But it sort of helped me make up my mind,” Laura said.

“Huh?”

“Listen, I never told you, but I got a job offer, like, several weeks ago from a nonprofit gardening program. They do grow-it-yourself videos, apples to zucchini. I called them to see if the job was still open. It is. So I’m quitting, Kelly.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Kelly wasn’t that surprised. “Okay. But are you sure you want to film zucchinis growing? I mean, they grow fast, but not that fast.”

Laura laughed. “I’m sure. I’ll stop by the station soon. We can go out to lunch or something.”

“You bet. Looking forward to it.”

“Take care of yourself, Kelly.” Laura’s tone grew serious. “I mean it.”

“I will. You too.”

G
etting Gunther Bach to talk to her had been as simple as calling him from WBRX. His secretary had put her on hold and Bach had picked up a minute later, inviting her to an early lunch at one of Atlanta’s best restaurants when she told him—vaguely—that she was developing a feature story on finance.

She decided to drive herself to the restaurant, figuring she’d be back in plenty of time for hair and makeup before the evening broadcast. The car that the station provided for her was several spaces away and the driver was deep in a discussion of baseball with the parking lot guard.

After several wrong turns, Kelly spotted the restaurant and parked, entering through paneled doors in a rush. She was greeted at once by the maître d’, an older man, short and impeccably groomed, who welcomed her with a slight bow.

“Good afternoon, Miss Johns,” he said. “Mr. Bach is waiting for you. Please come this way.”

He motioned for her to follow him. The crowded restaurant was situated in the lobby of an expensive hotel favored by business executives. She got noticed as she walked by but looked straight ahead, spotting Gunther Bach in a far corner.

And there was Deke, at a table set for one, absorbed in a menu. He didn’t look up as she brushed past. A tiny blue light flashed in the phone earpiece he wore. She peeked in her handbag—the bugged phone he’d given her glowed briefly.

Bach rose as she approached. A few female heads turned. He was tall and seemed fit for his age—almost fifty, by her guess—with silver hair combed back from his angular face.

Kelly slowed down, mentally noting additional details.

He wore a European-cut suit, and that chunk of gold on his wrist had to be a Rolex. His hands were large and strong, as if he could blast a tennis serve or choke the life out of a business competitor with equal ease. There was something unmistakably domineering in his stance. Intelligent eyes, the color of cold steel, surveyed her.

Kelly gave him a sunny smile. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Traffic.”

“I understand.”

“Have you been waiting long?” She fished the bugged phone out of her purse and set it next to her car keys on the table.

“No.” He looked pointedly at the phone. “I do hope you won’t have to take a call during lunch.”

“I don’t have to. But I like to know who’s trying to reach me.” Kelly tapped the phone screen twice with a pink-polished fingernail. “That takes care of that. I can see the number and they can go straight to voicemail hell.”

“I consider myself honored,” Bach said dryly. He inclined his head. “Please sit down.”

The maître d’ pulled out a chair for her. Kelly slid into it, smoothing the skirt of her cream knit suit underneath her. She placed her handbag next to the phone and keys. Bach resumed his seat.

“I hope the restaurant meets your expectations. I find that the food is generally quite good.”

His accent was hard to place. It could be Swiss or German—she’d found both listed as his nationality on the Internet, on different sites.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Have you been here before?”

Kelly shook her head. “Never. I think I’ve been to every restaurant in Atlanta but this one.”

“Your presence has been noted.” That dry tone again. He warmed it up. “You are lovely, Kelly. More so in person than on the air.”

“Thanks.” The compliment made her feel a little awkward. The online mentions she’d found pegged him as a womanizer with several hundred million dollars to throw around. It wasn’t enough to make her fall at his feet. “I guess you watch my evening broadcast.”

“Occasionally, yes.”

Gunther Bach didn’t seem to be the chatty type. That went with the arrogance. Kelly unfolded her napkin in her lap. “I really appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.”

“You happened to catch me at an opportune time. I had nothing else scheduled for the afternoon—and I might fly to Europe tomorrow.”

“Oh. Where in Europe?”

He smiled faintly. “I haven’t decided. London, perhaps. Geneva. Or Milan. I do business in many countries.”

“I see.” Kelly left it at that. His closed expression didn’t invite further questions as to his whereabouts.

A waiter offered her a menu, which Bach allowed her to study for only a minute before recommending his own favorites. From the way the staff fawned over him, she guessed he came here often. Kelly chose broiled trout. He ordered steak, ultra-rare, for himself, and a vodka martini when Kelly declined a drink.

Kelly picked up her water glass and took a sip, eying him. His gaze was still cool, almost wary. She would have to be on her game, she thought, putting the glass down.

“You must be incredibly busy. I’m so glad you could spare the time for an informal meeting,” she began.

“Why did you call me?”

Bach went straight to the point, she thought. Fine. This bogus get-together would be over with sooner.

“When I started researching high-level finance, your name kept coming up. It’s a perfect subject for a special report, don’t you think? There’s big money pouring into Atlanta these days.”

Gunther shrugged. “The bank I run is not that large. But it is exclusive.”

“That’s fascinating. A secret world of power and privilege,” she said eagerly. “Our viewers would love to know more.”

He acknowledged the comment with a polite nod.

“This is off the record,” Kelly assured him, “but would you mind if I jot down a few things as we talk?”

“I suppose not.”

Kelly took a pad and pen from her handbag, doing more listening than writing. The conversation continued, along very general lines. Gunther Bach said nothing specific about the operations of his private bank or the hedge fund he controlled, but she didn’t care. All she had to do was get his voice on tape.

With a somewhat unnecessary flourish, their entrées arrived. No doubt the restaurant manager had told the staff to treat them like VIPs. Most of the other patrons pretended not to pay attention, but she did attract a few covert looks from the people who were closest. Gunther sipped his martini and responded in a muted voice to her questions.

Several women who’d just been seated together nearby seemed to be pretending not to hear him. He barely glanced their way—but he did glance. Gunther Bach could probably take his pick of every female in the restaurant except her. She was grateful when one of the women complained to a waiter about the table wobbling, and they were moved away.

Kelly ignored the phone, which never rang. Deke had told her that she didn’t have to worry about it. The screen glowed only once. Somehow, remotely, he was controlling it.

She wrapped up the interview over dessert and coffee, tucking the notepad and pen back into her handbag while the table was cleared.

A waiter appeared and used a silver-handled brush to sweep invisible crumbs into a small silver pan. She wished the check would arrive, but Bach seemed to be in no hurry. He rested his hands on the white damask tablecloth, looking at her. His steely eyes glittered with a new, slightly disturbing intensity.

Kelly swung her legs to the side of her chair, preparing to rise from the table with a minimum of feminine fussing. She didn’t want to drag this out a second longer than she had to. Something had changed between them. She couldn’t figure it out.

“Gunther, this has been great,” she said. “The lunch and the information, which is very, very useful. Of course, it’s going to take me a while to put together a proposal for a feature. Then I have to get approval from our news director before I can go ahead. You know how it is.”

Her ditzy act seemed to amuse him. “Actually, I don’t.”

“Feature reporting takes a lot of research and lots of time. Speaking of that, I have to get back to the station.” Kelly smiled brightly. She shifted her position and took hold of her handbag. “Again, it’s been a pleasure.”

“For me as well.” He flashed a thin smile. “To be quite honest, it didn’t seem like an interview.”

Kelly managed a laugh. “Then I guess I was doing it right. I find it’s best not to have a structured approach when I want a fresh angle for a feature.”

“Is that it?” Bach’s steel-colored eyes narrowed, but he kept on smiling. “Hmm. I suspect you are not being honest with me.”

That was out of the blue. Kelly scooped up the phone and car keys. Never mind putting them into her bag. She stood. Game over, she thought. But she could still bluff. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You barely took notes.” His thin smile vanished.

“Ah—I didn’t really get a chance. But I do have a very good memory,” she said quickly.

“I see.”

He wouldn’t say good-bye and she couldn’t just storm out. Monroe Capp might know this guy. She didn’t want to be lectured by the news director for being rude to a mover and shaker.

“Gunther, I really have to get back to WBRX.”

“So soon?”

Bach lifted his hands and—her eyes widened. There was a hotel keycard on the table. This hotel. Upstairs from the restaurant. The invitation was clear. Suite seduction. Maybe being seen with her had gone to his head. He’d had one martini. He wasn’t drunk.

“I know women, Kelly,” he whispered. “This so-called interview was a pretext. You want more from me, much more—I can see it in your eyes.”

She stepped back abruptly, jarring the table.

“I’m not interested.”

Gunther Bach scowled. He seemed surprised by her refusal and began to say something, but she interrupted him. “Don’t worry. I won’t quote you. On anything.”

Kelly turned and headed for the paneled doors of the restaurant as fast as her high heels would take her.

 

She waited in her car for Deke to exit the restaurant, sliding down in the front seat when she saw Gunther Bach come out instead of him. The silver-haired financier looked around. He couldn’t possibly want to apologize, she thought angrily. On the other hand, he’d given her the perfect excuse never to talk to him again. She wouldn’t have to white-lie her way out of this situation.

Bach went back in and Deke finally appeared, walking casually across the parking lot, sunglasses on, his hands in the pockets of a very good suit. She sat up straight again. She wouldn’t have guessed that he even owned one. Seeing him full-length, all she could think was that he looked great in it. He glanced toward her car, which was parked some distance from his, but avoided her gaze, strolling away.

Kelly grabbed the handle to open her car door, but something made her hesitate. Within seconds her phone rang. Not the bugged one Deke had given her, but her own. She saw his number and answered.

“Glad that’s over,” she muttered. “What a creep. You missed the keycard reveal.”

“Was that what he did? I heard the rest. I was wondering what he saw in your eyes.”

“Cold fury.”

“You didn’t miss a beat, Kelly.”

“True. Except for that one moment.”

Deke didn’t seem upset. But then, all he’d had to do was sit at a table by himself and have a business lunch with that thing in his ear.

“I thought the food was pretty good. So, other than being propositioned by one of the richest guys in Atlanta, did you enjoy your lunch?”

“Not really,” Kelly snapped. She was almost angry at herself for underestimating Bach. “Did you enjoy listening in?”

“He was coming in loud and clear,” Deke said cheerfully. “Good thing you didn’t stick around. You might have blown your cover.”

Kelly turned the key in the ignition and leaned her seat back. It didn’t sound like Deke was going to saunter over to her car and have this conversation face-to-face. “Oh, please. I get hit on a lot. I can take care of myself.”

He chuckled in an annoying way. “I don’t doubt it. But that wasn’t an attempt at seduction.”

Kelly sighed, well aware that she might have depended too much on her looks and her fame. “Then what would you call it?”

Deke didn’t reply right away. When he did, his tone was serious. “Kelly, he was testing you. You might have been more convincing on the phone, but once you were across the table—”

“He figured out that I wasn’t interviewing him. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. The guy’s a professional con man. He’s good at reading other people, very good. That’s how he got started making money.”

Kelly groaned. “Damn it. He had me.” She flipped down the visor when she caught a glimpse of another older man coming out of the restaurant. “Wait—that could be him again.” She peeked, not sure.

“I see who you mean,” Deke said a little distantly. “That’s definitely not him. Anyway, Bach went back toward the hotel through the lobby as I was leaving.”

“Thanks for telling me. You owe me for this one, Bannon. I don’t see how a random lunch with a lecher is going to get me the story I want.”

“It will.”

“I’m so ashamed.” She wanted to howl. “Deke, I don’t get conned. That’s never happened to me.”

“First time for everyone. Get over it.”

“When Bach said I wasn’t being honest with him, I panicked for a second. That’s what he saw in my eyes. Then he pulled out that keycard, and I was dumb enough to believe he was putting the moves on me.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded if you’d taken him up on it.”

“Drive over here. Right now,” she commanded.

“Why?”

“So I can kill you.”

“With what?”

“A high heel to the head.”

He chuckled again. “Listen, you were great. There’s nothing you can do about what happened.”

Kelly looked in her handbag for the bugged phone. “Deke, come and get your toy. Unless you want me to drive it over to you.”

“No to both. Let’s go back to your place.”

“How do you know we won’t be followed?” Kelly eased her seat back up.