because they’d received a tip that the travel agency was giving congressmen bribes and gifts of stays at exotic locations, all expenses paid. The company closed down shortly thereafter, and the matter was dropped after they inexplicably declined to press charges.
Her father was implicated with Orozco in a second burglary, this one being at Wingman and Wingman.
This was six months before her father was killed. That knot in her stomach tightened, and she felt nauseous.
Scotty was right. She didn’t like seeing it.
Reading her father’s name on that type of case made her feel as if he’d somehow betrayed her by pretending to be someone other than the man she thought he was.
This was not the father she had loved her whole life.
And even though this wasn’t the first time she’d been faced with this fact, she knew that if she let it, the knowledge would tear her apart. She couldn’t let that happen again, not after the emotional toll it took when she’d first looked into his decades-old murder, and she told herself that the man listed on these FBI files was what her father did when he went to work. It was not who he was when he came home at the end of the day.
That man had truly loved her, and after all, wasn’t that what counted in the end?
Exactly what counted, she told herself. When she finally managed to look at this with clinical detachment, she realized Scotty was right. Her father was connected to Wingman and Wingman.
The list of numbers she had locked in her desk drawer were the numbers her father and Orozco had stolen from Wingman Squared.
And all these reports were somehow connected.
But apparently not enough to have made a case to go after Wingman.
Somehow there was a thread in here that connected them . . .
Brilliant thought. Of course there was a thread. Her father had also been involved in the theft of money from a bank called BICTT. The acronym stood for Bank of International Commerce Trade and Trust but was better known in the intelligence world as the Bank of International Crooks, Terrorists, and Thieves. It was operated by a group called the Black Network, a cabal of criminals, politicians, and businessmen involved in a number of enterprises such as arms trafficking, drug money laundering, even terrorist funding if it furthered their own ends.
Everything she knew about the Network was from working with Griffin and ATLAS, and they had also implicated the Network with the BICTT scandal. What she knew very little about was Wingman Squared.
Her father, she was sure, had somehow been involved with both. Which, in her mind, at least, meant they were connected.
So why was Wingman and Wingman still up and running if it was a Network firm?
Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell from reading the face sheets of these cases.
But then, at the end of the file was a list of names with no explanation. Some were listed as witnesses on the cases she’d just read, others not listed at all. Curious, she wrote the names down on a sheet of yellow legal paper, tore it from the pad, then set it by her purse, wondering how to research this without using the Internet or her work computers.
A knock at her door startled her, and she glanced out the peephole to see Scotty and two other FBI agents she recognized as working for Pearson standing beside him.
She opened the door, noticed the tense expression on Scotty’s face. “What’s going on?” she asked him.
“Pearson needs you down at the office.”
Her heart started a slow thud. She knew what for, and she was acutely aware of the laptop sitting behind her, along with the flash drive connected to it. Scotty’s flash drive. No wonder he looked upset. “Why?”
“Is it okay if we come in?”
Sydney didn’t move. “For what?”
Scotty took a deep breath. “Permissive search for the list of numbers you recovered from Mexico.”
She told herself to remain calm. “I can save you the trouble of searching. They’re locked in my desk drawer in my
Her father was implicated with Orozco in a second burglary, this one being at Wingman and Wingman.
This was six months before her father was killed. That knot in her stomach tightened, and she felt nauseous.
Scotty was right. She didn’t like seeing it.
Reading her father’s name on that type of case made her feel as if he’d somehow betrayed her by pretending to be someone other than the man she thought he was.
This was not the father she had loved her whole life.
And even though this wasn’t the first time she’d been faced with this fact, she knew that if she let it, the knowledge would tear her apart. She couldn’t let that happen again, not after the emotional toll it took when she’d first looked into his decades-old murder, and she told herself that the man listed on these FBI files was what her father did when he went to work. It was not who he was when he came home at the end of the day.
That man had truly loved her, and after all, wasn’t that what counted in the end?
Exactly what counted, she told herself. When she finally managed to look at this with clinical detachment, she realized Scotty was right. Her father was connected to Wingman and Wingman.
The list of numbers she had locked in her desk drawer were the numbers her father and Orozco had stolen from Wingman Squared.
And all these reports were somehow connected.
But apparently not enough to have made a case to go after Wingman.
Somehow there was a thread in here that connected them . . .
Brilliant thought. Of course there was a thread. Her father had also been involved in the theft of money from a bank called BICTT. The acronym stood for Bank of International Commerce Trade and Trust but was better known in the intelligence world as the Bank of International Crooks, Terrorists, and Thieves. It was operated by a group called the Black Network, a cabal of criminals, politicians, and businessmen involved in a number of enterprises such as arms trafficking, drug money laundering, even terrorist funding if it furthered their own ends.
Everything she knew about the Network was from working with Griffin and ATLAS, and they had also implicated the Network with the BICTT scandal. What she knew very little about was Wingman Squared.
Her father, she was sure, had somehow been involved with both. Which, in her mind, at least, meant they were connected.
So why was Wingman and Wingman still up and running if it was a Network firm?
Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell from reading the face sheets of these cases.
But then, at the end of the file was a list of names with no explanation. Some were listed as witnesses on the cases she’d just read, others not listed at all. Curious, she wrote the names down on a sheet of yellow legal paper, tore it from the pad, then set it by her purse, wondering how to research this without using the Internet or her work computers.
A knock at her door startled her, and she glanced out the peephole to see Scotty and two other FBI agents she recognized as working for Pearson standing beside him.
She opened the door, noticed the tense expression on Scotty’s face. “What’s going on?” she asked him.
“Pearson needs you down at the office.”
Her heart started a slow thud. She knew what for, and she was acutely aware of the laptop sitting behind her, along with the flash drive connected to it. Scotty’s flash drive. No wonder he looked upset. “Why?”
“Is it okay if we come in?”
Sydney didn’t move. “For what?”
Scotty took a deep breath. “Permissive search for the list of numbers you recovered from Mexico.”
She told herself to remain calm. “I can save you the trouble of searching. They’re locked in my desk drawer in my
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