Bottom line, p.4
Bottom Line, page 4
OMW to YVR. Call me. Agent Reid thought you might be interested in this. -Ben
Nick dropped the phone as if it was a striking rattlesnake. Ben was coming to Vancouver? What? The infernal? Fuck?
He left the phone lying on the carpet, gingerly stepping around it as he got dressed. Thoughts milling around in his head like kids in a boxing ring.
Why was Ben calling now? After all these weeks? And what did Duncan have to do with anything? Had Ben called Duncan? Duncan called Ben? Neither made any sense.
Twice he stooped to pick up the phone, but didn’t. One didn’t touch a live snake curled up on the carpet.
He knotted his tie, then checked his chin in the mirror, running his hand across it. He should’ve shaved again.
God, he wanted to pick up the phone, to run his finger across Ben’s picture, which he should really delete from his photos, and close his eyes, waiting to be touched in return.
No! If he talked to Ben now, he’d be trapped all over again. Well, not trapped exactly. Ben had never... More like, inexorably attracted by the strongest magnet in history.
Christ, he really needed to puzzle out what it was about Ben that he wanted, and what he didn’t want. But he really didn’t have time right now. With a deep breath he grabbed his phone, dashed off a quick message, and went to join Walker in the dining room.
Chapter Four
Ben
Wednesday-Thursday
Ben had only packed a carry-on and gone through customs in Boston already, so it didn’t take him long to walk out into the arrivals hall at Vancouver International, where Corey was waving madly to catch his attention.
Ben grinned from ear to ear and walked over to him. “Dude, it’s good to see you.”
They hugged, and Corey said, “Man, I can’t wait to be back in Boston. Vancouver is pretty nice, don’t get me wrong, but I’m missing my fam.”
“We miss you too. Good thing we at least have that Discord channel to play and hang out on.”
“Word. Oh, good, you’re traveling light,” Corey said, pointing at the small case on wheels Ben was pulling along. “SkyTrain is the fastest way back to my place. Though we can catch a cab if you want.”
“I’m good. By all means, let’s check out local transit.”
“It’s pretty good. You’ll like it. We can take a bus for the last bit, and I’m not far from the stop.”
“Lead the way.”
They’d been in touch for game night once a week, so there wasn’t much to catch up on. Corey used the ride to point out some landmarks, like the Botanical Garden, and later from the bus that brought them ever closer to Chinatown, the casino and stadium.
After they got off the bus near a park, Corey led the way across the street toward a tall condo building. Chez Corey, as he called it, was a neat little condo that Corey had found on Airbnb. “The owner is a Chinese businessman who’s never around. I don’t believe he’s actually ever lived here. He probably bought the place to rent it out, so I got a good price on a long-term rental.”
Ben admired the airy, light-filled space. “Dude, this looks very different from the pics of you roughing it at your gran’s place.”
Corey laughed. “It sure is. Did I mention her place is a tiny one-bedroom? Not only did I have to clean up all my stuff every day to make her living room usable, but her couch is a two-seater. I’m not tall, but that thing had me sleeping with my feet hanging out.”
Ben stopped his one-eighty and lowered his gaze from the spectacular window front to his friend’s face. “How’s she doing?”
“Pretty much back to normal. She still has a couple of doctor’s appointments I’d like to take her to, and I want to set up some kind of emergency call system for her before I leave, but she’s champing at the bit to be on her own again. She’s cruising her walker all over the place, but she really can’t wait to ditch it. And me.” Corey laughed, and his relief was palpable.
Ben remembered that when Corey had first moved here, he’d been afraid of losing his grandmother. “She sounds like a tough cookie.”
“No shit,” Corey said. “She’s as feisty as they come.”
He led Ben into a large, sunny room with a couch, low table, armchair, and reach-in closet. “The couch pulls out into a bed,” Corey said. “And the closet’s all yours. There’s a bathroom with shower down the hallway, and a guest toilet at the other end.”
Ben left his suitcase to unpack later, and they moved back into the main room. Ben couldn’t help another pirouette in the middle of it with his arms outstretched. “This is Nice with a capital N,” he said.
Corey gave a wistful sigh. “Sure is, but the rent is eating into my savings. Which is another reason I need to get back to Boston. Oh, that reminds me. Can you keep your eyes peeled for rentals? After all this space, I think I’d have a hard time moving back into student housing with roommates.” Corey had scored a well-paying software development job after university, but had stayed in the one-room, shared-bathroom-and-kitchen situation of his student days until he’d moved to Vancouver last fall.
“I’ll keep my ears to the ground,” Ben promised. “My area is still reasonably affordable. And you don’t even need to commute.” He pointed his chin at the laptop Corey had propped up on a narrow desk by the window.
Corey nodded. “I’m telling you, once I’m settled into my own apartment, I’m going to have a huge desk with a wide screen. Or two. Full-on geek mode.”
Ben grinned. “It has its advantages.” He had a similar setup at home, though he still showed up at the office two days a week. It didn’t hurt to network a bit, sniff the currents of office politics, and keep his face visible. “Anyway, I’m not here to dream about apartments. When can I meet your gran?”
“Tomorrow. She has an aquafit class in the morning. She scored a place on the shuttle for the class from the seniors’ residence next door. It’s where she eats most of her meals. Two of her friends live there, but she absolutely refuses to give up her independence. We’ll meet her there for lunch. At the residence.” For a second Corey looked sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind too much. It’s easiest for her.”
Ben gave him the thumbs-up. “All good.” It wasn’t his dream lunch location, but one had to be flexible.
Corey’s phone buzzed, and after checking it, he said, “Shit, dude. I’m so sorry. It’s work. I have to put out a fire, so to speak.”
Ben waved the apology off. “No worries. Go ahead. I think I’ll do the same. Work, that is, no fire. At least I hope not.”
He’d packed his own laptop, and now set it up in his room, but he found it hard to concentrate. He kept checking his phone for an answer from Nick, frowning at the screen more deeply every time there was nothing. Was Nick just busy? But he’d need his phone for work, too, didn’t he? Or did he have a second phone? Maybe he was in a meeting.
The most obvious answer, of course, was that Nick simply didn’t want to talk to him. Well, fuck Agent Asshole. Ben threw his phone on the couch, and for the umpteenth time tried to immerse himself in the offshore transactions sheet he’d set up for the company he was investigating. Ben’s boss at Concierge Home Insurance had an extremely well-working scamdar, and he’d been right to set Ben’s nose on this art collector’s trail. But Ben had to prove it, and so far he’d dug up only circumstantial evidence.
He threw another glance at his phone, went to retrieve it, and laid it on the table next to him. If a message did come in, he didn’t want to miss it.
* * *
The residence was neither dingy nor high-end, the dining room bright and airy, but a little too utilitarian to look inviting. Unfortunately it was packed.
Corey had entered first, but Ben held him back by the shoulder. “We can’t talk in here,” he whispered fiercely. Even if what Corey’s grandma had to tell them wasn’t downright illegal, it seemed suspicious enough that Ben didn’t feel like involving the whole world at this point.
Corey looked apologetic. “I know. The thing is, my grandma won’t talk to a stranger. You’ll have to meet first, have a nice lunch, and afterward we’ll go sit in the park somewhere a little more secluded for a chat?”
“Right. I’ll follow your lead.” Inwardly Ben sighed. But he understood that there might be a trust issue. Well, he’d do his best to come across as the most trustworthy person Gran had ever met.
Right then a hand went up from one of the smaller window tables, and Ben studied the tiny woman with the steel-gray perm and oversize cardigan. As they came closer, black sparrow eyes gave them the once-over, then Corey said something, presumably in Mandarin. Ben made out the words Ben Coyne in the middle and assumed introductions were being made.
Right on cue Corey said, “Ben, meet my grandmother, Xinyi Chen.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Chen.”
Gran turned to Corey; more Mandarin? Corey answered her, and a shadow of displeasure crossed her face. Then she smiled and indicated the two empty chairs across from hers. “Likewise, Mr. Coyne. Please, won’t you sit?” Her English only held the faintest trace of an accent.
Ben nodded his thank-you and sat down. He wondered what Corey had said to her earlier. Well, he’d ask afterward. The more he knew, the better.
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to you,” he said aloud.
A smile flitted across Mrs. Chen’s face. “He’s polite,” she said to Corey. It sounded amused, but also appreciative. As if she’d resigned herself to something less.
The introductory lunch went better than Ben had feared. Mrs. Chen turned out to be shrewd and lively, even a bit sassy at times, with a mischievous but understated sense of humor, almost a little sly. She probably liked to play pranks on people. He found he enjoyed her company, which was more than could be said for the amazingly bland food.
After a lunch Ben had merely picked at for politeness’ sake, the three of them moved outside to the park where benches had been installed alongside flower beds, and groups of metal bistro tables and chairs huddled on a patio. It was nice enough in the sun, but apparently still cool enough to keep most of the residents inside.
Corey moved an extra chair to one of the little tables in a sunny spot, and Ben had a good look around before sitting down, making sure there was no one within earshot. The last thing he wanted was to get either Mrs. Chen or Corey into trouble if things turned out to be as dicey as he suspected.
He was searching for a way to broach the delicate subject, when Mrs. Chen said, “I’ve said it to Corey, and I think it’s only fair to say it to you, I believe you are wasting your time, Mr. Coyne.”
Ben was glad to let her pick her own way through the subject at hand. “How so?”
“I assure you, there is nothing nefarious about what I am doing.”
“Oh, I’m positive your intentions are not criminal, Mrs. Chen. But sometimes perfectly innocent people are tricked into doing things that can get them into trouble. You know, like the airports always asking you not to leave your luggage unattended, because someone could plant something in your bags, and use you to smuggle things through customs? And you’d have no idea they were even there?”
A thoughtful look came into her eyes.
Very quietly Ben added, “Want to tell me what exactly it is you’re doing? Corey was a bit light on the details.”
“Corey didn’t know any details,” Corey groused.
“You don’t have to know everything,” Mrs. Chen said, just a bit belligerently.
Ben didn’t comment and kicked Corey under the table to be quiet as well. He waited.
Mrs. Chen snorted in Corey’s direction, and Ben had to suppress a grin. Get off my lawn, you young whippersnapper, he thought.
Mrs. Chen took her sweet time. Finally she said, “About two months before I fell ill, I was at the bingo night at church, and M—an acquaintance was showing off her new bracelet.”
She glared at Ben, daring him to ask her for the name she’d almost revealed. But Ben knew better. He nodded encouragingly, and got a bit of a winding report of the women talking about the bracelet, jewelry in general, the rising prices, and how to make a bit of extra money.
Ben realized half his mind had been wandering when Mrs. Chen suddenly said, “They are all doing it, not just me. Church people. They don’t see anything wrong with it.” But she sounded a little unsure and introspective, probably trying to convince herself as much as Ben.
Again he nodded at her to go on, trying to relax his jaw. He had a good idea that trying to rush her would be pointless, even counterproductive, but, Christ, he wished she’d come to the point already.
“My acquaintance had been approached by Danny, the young man who assists with the setups for garage and bake sales. His father owns an outdoor and sports goods business.”
“Wait,” Corey cut in, and Ben wanted to throttle him. “Danny Zhao? I went to kindergarten with Danny Zhao.” He sounded as if that couldn’t possibly be the same Danny.
Mrs. Chen raised one eyebrow at him, and Corey immediately piped down. The gesture struck Ben like lightning. Nick did that. The eyebrow thing. Though Nick usually looked sardonic rather than quelling.
“She had been telling him about some errands she needed to run, and Danny talked to her about how busy he was, and could she pick up some money orders for him on her way if he gave her the cash. He would give her something extra for her troubles.”
Ben nodded. A perfectly innocent favor if done once, or even once in a blue moon. He waited.
Mrs. Chen shrugged. “Most of us have family abroad; we send money orders all the time.”
Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Just once. Message. Shit! He could not check it now. Not in the middle of Mrs. Chen talking. She struck him as old-school and would probably be offended. And, well, it would be quite impolite, but damn.
“Danny needed money orders regularly. He said they were for his father, who imports goods from all over the world. How money orders were the cheapest way, but they only came in smaller amounts, and the tellers made you jump through hoops if you needed more.”
And for a good reason, Ben thought.
“So Danny started asking friends and neighbors to pitch in.” Again she shrugged. “Everyone’s doing it.”
Ben bit the inside of his cheek. Yup, he was absolutely positive now that this Danny had a nice little money-laundering operation going on. The question was for whom. Was Danny a broker himself, or was he indeed working for his father, if not in the sense the community had been led to believe? And if the latter, was his father a broker, or was his sporting goods import business a larger operation? Or both? There were too many options, and Ben didn’t have a clue. He could have used a certain special agent to swap ideas with. Damn Nick for brushing him off like that. This message had better be from him.
Ben was suddenly aware that Mrs. Chen was looking at him expectantly.
“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Chen,” he said carefully. “I’m afraid that doesn’t sound good. If I were you, I would buy no more money orders for Danny.”
He thought she was about to agree, but then Corey slapped his knees with a loud, “Ha! I knew it,” and Mrs. Chen glared at him and squared her shoulders.
Ben ground his heel on Corey’s foot and got a confused look. Ben’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket.
He got up and held out his hand. “Again, thank you so much for talking to me.” When she shook his hand, he held it a moment longer and said with emphasis, “I do hope you heed my warning, but it’s, of course, entirely your decision.” He let go of her hand and straightened up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Chen.”
“Likewise,” she replied, with a somewhat bemused expression. “It’s rare these days to meet a young man with such impeccable manners.” This was followed with a dark glance at Corey.
Ben congratulated himself for not checking his phone earlier, but his fingers were positively itching to do just that. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said to Corey. “Take your time.”
He ignored Corey’s puzzled look, turned, and crossed the park and lounge area in long strides. He had his phone out and turned on even before he’d passed through the sliding double doors at the entrance.
The message was indeed from Nick. It read, Extremely tied up atm. In an emergency, call 911.
Ben clenched his teeth so hard he thought he might break something. Mother. Fucker!
Chapter Five
Nick
Thursday
Almost as soon as Nick had replied to Ben’s message, he regretted the dismissal. What if Ben was in trouble and needed help? But no, the message hadn’t sounded like an emergency. So was Ben jerking him around? Was that like Ben, though?
The discussion in the RCMP’s conference room was heating up, but for Nick it faded to background noise, drowned out by the one thought that kept reverberating in his brain ever since he’d gotten that blasted message from Ben. Why the ever-loving fuck was Ben in Vancouver? First he ghosted Nick, and now he was stalking him? But if that was the case, what did Duncan have to do with it? Or was Ben merely using Duncan’s name to get Nick to reply to him? Then why didn’t he just call? Was he really in town, or was he just saying that? And if—
“Hey, Marshall? You still with us?” Walker was waving a hand in front of Nick’s eyes.
Shit. “Why? Did my eyes glaze over at the internal squabbling?” In truth, Nick had completely lost track of the conversation. But his deflection worked.
Walker laughed. “The challenges of international cooperation. Want to escape the madness for some lunch?”
Yes, that was what Nick needed. Forget about Ben. Unfortunately he still needed to do his job. “Just give me a minute to smooth the ruffled feathers.”
