Page 32 of Unlocked

"Keep digging," Archer said. "But carefully. If he does have international backing and they get wind that someone is looking, it changes everything."

"Understood." Armand rose from the chair with the nonchalant ease of a man who had never needed to rush anywhere in his life. He picked up his coffee cup and moved toward the door, then stopped. "One more thing."

Archer looked at him.

"The young woman," Armand said. "The Wellington girl. She is here, yes? Staying in the apartments."

"She is."

Armand studied him for a moment with those dark, perceptive eyes that had sized up arms dealers and presidents and never missed very much. "Proceed carefully, mon ami," he said quietly. "Not with her. With yourself."

Archer held his gaze and said nothing.

Armand smiled, just slightly, and left.

The door clicked shut for the second time that morning, and Archer stood in the silence, letting the full weight of both conversations settle over him.

Davis, money, and power, and the Ponzi scheme connecting in ways he'd suspected but couldn't yet prove. And Fisher, quiet, patient Fisher, moving pieces on a board that Archer was only now beginning to fully see.

He picked up his phone and made the call.

"What can you tell me about Davis's recent deals?" he asked.

The voice on the other end was cautious. "Still digging, but you're right. Something is definitely going on. He's involved in more than one thing. Suddenly flush with cash."

"Keep digging," Archer said. "Very carefully. Dig deep on Eli Fisher as well, but keep it as quiet as possible. And keep me informed."

He ended the call and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The morning light slanted through the window, casting sharp shadows across the room.

The ghost team would do what he'd asked. He trusted them. But it was a big ask, and even with everything they uncovered, it wouldn't be enough. Even if Archer knew where the money was coming from and why it was being socked away, it wouldn’t be enough to do anything by the rules of the Society. In the end, someone would have to flip. Someone would have to tell him that Davis and now Fisher had done something to harm someone inside the Society. That was the only way to do this by the book.

If he'd had to place a bet, Archer would have said Richard North was the weakest link. The most likely to talk. Which was probably exactly why North was dead. That left Kelly and Lebowitz, and Archer had no doubt they were next.

He just had to decide whether he was going to reach out to them first. Or attend two more funerals.

His phone buzzed. A text from security.

Ms. Wellington is awake. Requesting breakfast in the dining room.

Archer stared at the message, and something in his chest loosened, just slightly, in a way he didn't examine too carefully. She was safe. For now.

But for how long?

He stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.

Maybe it was time to go off-book. Maybe, just maybe, the rules no longer applied.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tatum sipped her coffee and stared out at the river.

She dreaded going back to her apartment, but she knew sooner or later she would have to. That was where all her work was. The work that might have caused this whole mess in the first place. The work that, apparently, might get her killed.

She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around that. By digging into the Ponzi scheme, she'd caught someone's attention. Someone who was now watching her.

She nibbled at the croissant the waiter had brought from the kitchen. It was delicious, light, buttery, perfect, and she knew she should eat. Her body needed fuel. But her appetite just wasn't cooperating.

Enough of this wallowing. She needed to figure out her next step. If she could unravel this, if she could identify who was really behind it, then maybe the danger would pass.