A Girl Betrayed (A Leah Mason suspense thriller Book 2) Read online

  The client appeared to be in shock. “I…I’ll pay whatever it takes…” he sputtered.

  She considered him, her face a blank. “We’ll be in touch with a bill. Now please, get going. We have work to do.”

  The man escorted the client from the room, and the woman eyed Annika with a grim expression. “Jesus…” she whispered, shaking her head.

  After checking her watch, she moved to the painting and spoke directly to it. “You got all of that, I presume?”

  Her radio crackled. “Yes.”

  “Get someone here to clean this up,” she snapped, and then moved to the door, feeling for her cell phone in her pocket.

  Down the hall, a pair of men sat in front of a bank of monitors, their complexions pale and drawn. The one nearest the door looked to his companion and shook his head. “What a nightmare. Although talk about getting leverage…”

  “He frigging murdered her on camera, dude,” the other said, his voice tight. “He killed her, and we just sat here and watched.”

  “Our job isn’t to interrupt. It’s to capture activity. You don’t like the gig, talk to the boss.”

  “But he–”

  “What he did or didn’t do is none of our business. We’re just the hired help. The less we have to say about it, the better.”

  His partner nodded slowly. Neither of them had ever seen someone die in one of the rooms, and it had shocked them, even though they watched every imaginable sort of depravity on a daily basis.

  The radio crackled to life on the console in front of them. “Shut off the camera,” the woman ordered.

  “Ten-four,” the first man said.

  “I’ll be in for the footage in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Roger that.”

  The men exchanged a glance, and the first rose and moved to a hard disk recording system, his face expressionless. The other rose and stood by the door, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps while the first went to work, every passing second increasing their risk.

  A minute later the woman burst through the door to find both technicians seated at the console. She eyed the bank of monitors, where a variety of sexual acts were in progress, and tapped a worried finger on her cell. “A cleaning crew will be here within the hour. Until then, I want you to stay on the premises. I’m locking this place down as of now.” She exhaled in frustration and fixed the men with a hard stare. “I don’t need to tell you what will happen if a word of this leaks, do I?”

  They shook their heads in unison. She nodded slowly, her eyes slits.

  “Good. Now go to the kitchen and get yourselves some drinks. I’d say you’ve earned it.”

  Chapter 2

  Emeryville, California

  Leah Mason sighed as she finished her work for the day. Fatigue and tension had tightened her shoulder and neck muscles to the point where they were rigid. She rolled her head slowly and closed her eyes, the movement relaxing her even as her mind continued to work on the two stories she was researching. After several rotations she opened them and glanced out a window at the slate mirror of the bay in the distance, and then switched off her computer, her back protesting another long sedentary stint seated in front of a monitor – albeit in a chair that cost as much as her old car had back in Texas.

  After a series of friendly negotiations with her new employer, Leah had agreed to move to the Bay Area in exchange for an unprecedented salary and stock option package, which, if the start-up did as well as everyone hoped, would catapult her into an entirely new tax bracket. Simon Garr, the billionaire entrepreneur who had created and funded Valliant News Service, had been more than generous and had covered all of her relocation expenses as well as paying her a signing bonus. Leah had turned in her notice to the El Paso Examiner and accepted the offer as a calculated move, and she’d had no regrets about moving to an online publication rather than a traditional paper; the future was obvious to her even as she waxed nostalgic about the good old days.

  As one of a core staff of six senior investigative reporters, she had discretion over what she covered, which was unimagined freedom after her days working for traditional newspapers. Valliant’s editor, Monte Simmons, gave her a host of possible stories each week, but she was free to decline anything she didn’t find interesting and could also propose stories of her own. So far she hadn’t come across anything that tickled her fancy, so Leah was working two of the threads Monte had handed her, putting in fourteen-hour days while hoping for a lightning strike of inspiration.

  She’d been in the Bay Area for a month and had found a cozy apartment over the hill in Concord, about a half hour away from the office. Leah liked the area, which she’d have described as hipster suburbia, even if the rent was a small fortune, as it was pretty much anywhere within commute distance of San Francisco. Monte had set her up with a realtor friend, who’d located the apartment on Leah’s third day in town, and she’d known the moment she’d seen it that she’d found her new home.

  The company had leased her a car as part of her compensation package, and Leah was piloting a Honda CR-V ten times nicer than anything she’d ever driven and a daily reminder of how drastically her fortunes had changed. Every morning she pinched herself to confirm she wasn’t dreaming, that she was now a verifiable mover and shaker in the news world. Which, of course, created enormous pressure on her to follow up her groundbreaking El Paso Examiner exposé on the cartel kingpin with something even bigger – the problem being that those kinds of stories came along once in a lifetime. Everyone on her team understood that, but she still felt the burden of Simon’s expectations, given the amount she was being paid.

  Footsteps approached along the aisle between the cubicles, and Leah looked up as Adam, the company’s tech guru and director of operations, stopped at her station. He grinned, his blue eyes and tanned skin making an attractive combination, and she managed a small smile in return.

  “Pulling another long one?” he asked.

  “Actually, I’m just finishing up,” she replied.

  “Working on anything interesting?”

  “I’ve got an angle on the Pope being an extraterrestrial that looks promising,” she kidded.

  “Must be one of Monte’s,” he volleyed.

  “I could break it wide open. It’ll be big. Huger than big.”

  “Bigly huge,” Adam answered with another smile.

  She switched off her monitor. “What’s up, Adam? The NSA send you to shut me down?”

  “Nah. I just heard something stirring at this end of the building and figured it was probably you. The rest of these slackers are out of here right at five.”

  Leah raised an eyebrow, waiting for Adam to get to the point. He shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat.

  “Seeing how late it is, I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or maybe a drink, before you start your commute.”

  She exhaled slowly, considering the question with obvious fatigue. “Thanks, Adam. It’s tempting, but I’m beat. I haven’t been sleeping all that great in the new place yet. Sort of getting adjusted to everything.”

  “You sure? I know all the wrong people in all the worst places.”

  “I have no doubt. But yeah, I have a ton of stuff I need to get done. Maybe another time?”

  “For the record, this is a business proposal, to discuss business stuff, nothing else.”

  She smiled again. “They should issue little sexual harassment cards to everyone, like for Miranda rights.” Leah paused. “Did Monte make you say that?”

  His face grew serious. “What was the giveaway?”

  “Because you’d be the one I’d have to report you to.”

  “No system’s perfect.” He grinned again. “Let me know if you have a change of heart.”

  “Will do, Adam. It sounds great. I’d be all over it if I wasn’t tired. Just the wrong timing.”

  “I understand.”

  Leah watched him depart, feeling conflicted. He was definitely a charming guy
and, even if six years older than Leah, definitely the most eligible male in the company. But Uriel was still fresh in Leah’s mind, and even though she’d reconciled herself to the idea that a long-distance romance wasn’t practical for either of them, she wasn’t in a hurry to see anyone else. She imagined her aunt’s reaction in her head, and the remnants of her smile turned into a frown.

  “I have plenty of time,” she whispered, unsure whom she was trying to convince.

  She made her way out of the building, offering the security guard a smile when she passed, and walked to her Honda. The sun was a red ember dropping into the bay as she started the engine and buckled up for the drive home, up a winding freeway and through a tunnel that still gave her the willies when she navigated it daily. Her claustrophobia was always lingering in the background, and while ordinarily not a problem, she was reminded of it whenever she had to take an elevator or pass through a tight space and her throat tightened and her breathing became shallower.

  Traffic was miserable, which was a constant regardless of what time of day or night she planned her commute. The relatively short distance always afforded an exercise in patience-building, as well as an opportunity to catch up on whatever the locals were outraged about on talk radio. The approach to the tunnel was an endless procession of crimson brake lights as far as she could see, the steep climb to the opening a mass of frustrated drivers all converging on the subterranean funnel.

  By the time Leah made it to Concord, her stomach was growling and the light was leaching from a plum-colored sky. She stopped at a Chinese restaurant that did decent takeout, and fifteen minutes later was rolling toward her apartment, anxious to slip into some sweats and relax with her meal, the smell of dim sum mouthwatering in the cabin of the SUV.

  Leah could hear her phone trilling from inside the apartment while she fumbled with her key at the front door, but by the time she got it open, the ringing had stopped. She shouldered through the door and locked it behind her, and had barely made it to the dining table with her food when her cell began warbling from her purse. She cursed under her breath and rummaged for it with her free hand, and then stabbed the call to life as she set her dinner down and moved to the kitchen and the bottle of cheap white wine that awaited her in the fridge.

  The voice of her friend Heather emanated from the speaker. “Leah?”

  “Was that you on the other line?” Leah said.

  “Yes, that was me.” Heather paused. “Listen, I wanted to tell you that I got your email last week, but I only just now got a chance to reach out.”

  Leah had sent an email to all her personal contacts with her new contact information. Heather was a friend from college who’d been somewhat close while they’d been in school. But the two had drifted apart after graduation, when Leah had pursued her journalism career and Heather had returned to her parents’ home in the Bay Area to try her hand at an art gallery that had been a modest success.

  “No problem,” Leah said, pouring herself a large goblet of wine. “I’m glad to hear from you. How’re things?”

  “Oh, you know, trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. That hasn’t changed,” Heather said. “But, Leah – I’m calling because I’ve finally got a little me time. So…what are you doing this weekend?”

  Leah didn’t have to think. “Cleaning my windows. Why?”

  “It’s been so long since we spent any time together. What, five years?”

  Leah had been at Heather’s wedding, which was the last time she’d seen her. “Yeah. About that. Time flies, doesn’t it?” She hesitated. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking maybe a girls’ weekend up in Napa might be fun. I know some of the winemakers there, and a bed and breakfast that’s completely amazing.”

  Leah took a long sip of her wine and set the glass down. She hadn’t thought about Heather in years; they weren’t even connected on social media. “It sounds great, but with everything else going on, trying to get settled…”

  “Oh, come on. What’s more important than good wine with friends? It’ll be awesome, if the weather holds.” Heather paused. “My treat.”

  Leah considered the invitation. The truth was that she didn’t have anything she really had to do, and she’d heard great things about the wine country. She had no real reason for declining.

  “When were you thinking of meeting up?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. We could meet in Napa for lunch, hit a few wineries, and then check in whenever we felt like it. I know all the best restaurants.”

  Of course Heather did. Her family was well-to-do, she’d grown up in Sonoma, and she was a social butterfly who loved rubbing shoulders and living the good life.

  “How long does it take to get there from the East Bay?”

  “On a Saturday? Maybe an hour and a half, depending on how you drive. Your email said you’re in Concord? Should be easy. I can give you the name of a restaurant in Napa, and your nav software will lead you right to the door and tell you how long it’ll take.”

  “Just you and me?” Leah asked.

  “Why clutter it up with anyone else? I want to hear all about how you wound up in California. It sounds super exciting.”

  Leah sighed. “Okay. You convinced me. Can you email me the details?”

  “Consider it done.” Heather paused again. “Thanks, Leah. It’ll be great to see you again. It feels like it’s been forever.”

  “Yeah, it does to me too,” Leah said.

  She hung up and stared at the phone for a long beat, wondering at the call out of the blue. Heather had been a good enough friend in school, so Leah knew her well – well enough to know that she rarely did anything without an ulterior motive. So as impromptu as the invitation seemed, Leah couldn’t help but wonder what Heather wanted. Because as long as she’d known her, Heather had always viewed the world through a transactional lens, where everything was quid pro quo and if you gave something, it was because you expected to get something in return.

  The question being what Leah could possibly have that Heather, an attractive, wealthy socialite, could want.

  Chapter 3

  Novato, California

  Lee Chan sat at a computer terminal, listening to Slayer through his earbuds as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Lines of code scrolled down the screen, and he would stop periodically and consider the jumble of characters before continuing with his work, his forehead creased with concentration.

  Night had fallen hours earlier, but Chan routinely worked eighteen-hour days, coming in at whatever hour suited him, usually wearing comfortable loose-fitting pants and a hoodie. Marin County, like Silicon Valley, eschewed stodgy ideas like nine-to-five shifts and smart casual dress, favoring eclecticism and personal expression – as long as the work got done.

  Chan, who had come to the U.S. from China three and a half years earlier on a work visa, was one of scores of programmers and engineers at the company who toiled in obscurity, paid obscenely well in a land as unlike his home country as anything he could imagine, where every possible creature comfort was available to anyone with a credit card. Of course, that came at a price, and he was careful not to allow his Tesla and stock options to ruin him, tempting as that might be. Instead, he focused on the work and was one of the top-ranked programmers on every one of his reviews, his abilities legendary within the building.

  The song he was listening to ended, and the bone-crushing thrash of Pantera howled in his ears. He smiled at the old favorite, one he’d loved as a student twenty years ago and which he still enjoyed as a guilty pleasure to this day. He hummed along with the guitar riff as a vocal that could have been a demon straight from hell screamed over the strident beat, his mind on the current project and the deadline he was doing his damnedest to meet – there always being too little time and too much to do. It was a way of life he was accustomed to, which kept him invigorated and engaged even if it consumed most of his time. He didn’t mind. Chan hadn’t come to the land of opportunity to loaf.<
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  He was there to work.

  When Chan finished with the bit of executable code he had written, he scanned it line by line, nodding to himself rhythmically as Five Finger Death Punch roared in his ears. He paused periodically and made slight changes and, when he reached the end, saved his work and yawned. He popped the earbuds out, stretched his arms over his head, and glanced at his watch, noting it was 11:30 p.m., far past the hour any of the other employees would be slaving away, even with the nontraditional schedule the engineers kept.

  He stood and looked over his cubicle wall, his head cocked, listening intently. When he didn’t hear anything, he opened his desk drawer and withdrew a USB drive. He slipped it into his front pocket and shut off his computer, tapping in a password to override the normal shutdown routine before stepping from the cubicle into the hall.

  Chan walked unhurriedly and, just before he was at the doors that led to the lobby, made a hard right and ducked through another doorway into a long corridor that ran to the rear of the facility. He picked up his pace and stopped at an unmarked metal door near the end of the hall. Chan looked around and then removed a security card from the rear pocket of his pants and slipped it into the card reader beside the deadbolt. The lights on the box blinked from red to green, and he twisted the handle, pushed the metal slab open, and entered the dimly lit room.

  The air was twenty degrees colder than the work area, to keep the bank of servers mounted in racks in the center of the vault sufficiently cool. He moved with deliberation to the third from the end and knelt in front of it as he extracted the little drive. He checked the time again and then seated the drive into one of the server’s ports. The dongle pulsed orange twice, and then the code he’d written to search for and download the files he was after executed, doing all the work for him.

  Chan was finished in under a minute. He stood, returned the drive to his pocket, and retraced his steps to the door, where he stood with his ear pressed against it for ten seconds before pulling it open. He stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind him, and then moved back into the main work area and continued to the building entrance.