letting loose with a string of curses and pushing his chair away from the table.
"Deal me out, boys. I need a drink after that one."
As Alistair gloated, Jake moved toward the short sideboard that held a decanter of thirty-year-old single malt along with a bucket of ice and a neat stack of rocks glasses. He plunked a couple of cubes into his glass and splashed three fingers of amber liquid over it, gaze trained on the hallway a few feet away.
"I'm going to hit the loo," he muttered, satisfied at the half-assed chorus of grunts that greeted his announcement. He set down his drink and stepped out into the hallway, careful to stay as quiet as possible, one ear cocked. When he reached the bathroom, he flipped on the light switch and closed the door, but didn't go in. Instead, he continued silently down the hall, taking a moment to peer into each of the darkened rooms as he passed. Just as the blueprints had shown, the wing was comprised mostly of bonus rooms. A small library, followed by a den and then what appeared to be a massage room. Still no sign of anyone on the premises.
He reached the top of the grand staircase that led to the main floor and took a quick glance down. The place was cheerily lit, and not a creature stirred there either. Time to make his move.
He passed the wide staircase and made his way down the opposite corridor toward Alistair’s office. If the door was unlocked, he could be in and out in two minutes or less. If not, he’d have to take time to pick the lock. He’d been practicing almost daily, but the more intricate mechanisms still took up to five minutes to crack. His plan had been to spend this visit doing more recon so he would know what he was up against, but with Mike and his team sniffing around, the time for pussyfooting around had passed. It was now or never, and he’d just have to hope that lady luck was on his side.
He reached the office door and palmed the knob, saying a quick prayer.
“Come on, ya fucker,” he murmured under his breath before turning his wrist. To his relief, the knob gave way without pause and he blew out a long sigh. Halfway home.
He pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room. Unlike the rooms down the opposite wing, this one was only partially darkened, with the rest bathed in moonlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling window that took up the length of the back wall.
He skirted the perimeter of the office until he reached Alistair’s desk. Popping a squat, he powered on the computer and reached into the pocket of his trousers to pull out a thumb drive.
He plugged the drive into the input of Alistair’s computer and set to work, entering the information he’d been given by a hacker associate who had instructed him on how to bypass password protection. He wasn’t sure if his tech expert would find exactly what he was looking for on the hard drive of this particular computer since Alistair also spent a fair amount of time in his Manhattan penthouse, but regardless, this little drive was also programmed to upload a bug that would allow Jake’s private investigator to read and/or intercept any incoming or outgoing emails from any account Alistair had ever logged into from this machine.
His attack was two-pronged. Get Hannigan to invest all his liquid assets with Jake on his shell corporation, and then use the intel he gained from his emails to sink him the rest of the way. Hannigan loved to brag about any and every thing. Surely he had a friend he told about all the shady dealings he’d made. The ill-gotten emails wouldn’t hold up in court or anything, but they didn’t have to. Alistair would be tried by the court of public opinion. He’d never get another job in his field and no one with either cash or caché would ever associate with him again.
So long as he was left in financial and social ruin and Jake’s father was cleared of wrong-doing, he didn’t much care if Alistair spent a day in jail. Being a broke nobody would be a fate
"Deal me out, boys. I need a drink after that one."
As Alistair gloated, Jake moved toward the short sideboard that held a decanter of thirty-year-old single malt along with a bucket of ice and a neat stack of rocks glasses. He plunked a couple of cubes into his glass and splashed three fingers of amber liquid over it, gaze trained on the hallway a few feet away.
"I'm going to hit the loo," he muttered, satisfied at the half-assed chorus of grunts that greeted his announcement. He set down his drink and stepped out into the hallway, careful to stay as quiet as possible, one ear cocked. When he reached the bathroom, he flipped on the light switch and closed the door, but didn't go in. Instead, he continued silently down the hall, taking a moment to peer into each of the darkened rooms as he passed. Just as the blueprints had shown, the wing was comprised mostly of bonus rooms. A small library, followed by a den and then what appeared to be a massage room. Still no sign of anyone on the premises.
He reached the top of the grand staircase that led to the main floor and took a quick glance down. The place was cheerily lit, and not a creature stirred there either. Time to make his move.
He passed the wide staircase and made his way down the opposite corridor toward Alistair’s office. If the door was unlocked, he could be in and out in two minutes or less. If not, he’d have to take time to pick the lock. He’d been practicing almost daily, but the more intricate mechanisms still took up to five minutes to crack. His plan had been to spend this visit doing more recon so he would know what he was up against, but with Mike and his team sniffing around, the time for pussyfooting around had passed. It was now or never, and he’d just have to hope that lady luck was on his side.
He reached the office door and palmed the knob, saying a quick prayer.
“Come on, ya fucker,” he murmured under his breath before turning his wrist. To his relief, the knob gave way without pause and he blew out a long sigh. Halfway home.
He pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room. Unlike the rooms down the opposite wing, this one was only partially darkened, with the rest bathed in moonlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling window that took up the length of the back wall.
He skirted the perimeter of the office until he reached Alistair’s desk. Popping a squat, he powered on the computer and reached into the pocket of his trousers to pull out a thumb drive.
He plugged the drive into the input of Alistair’s computer and set to work, entering the information he’d been given by a hacker associate who had instructed him on how to bypass password protection. He wasn’t sure if his tech expert would find exactly what he was looking for on the hard drive of this particular computer since Alistair also spent a fair amount of time in his Manhattan penthouse, but regardless, this little drive was also programmed to upload a bug that would allow Jake’s private investigator to read and/or intercept any incoming or outgoing emails from any account Alistair had ever logged into from this machine.
His attack was two-pronged. Get Hannigan to invest all his liquid assets with Jake on his shell corporation, and then use the intel he gained from his emails to sink him the rest of the way. Hannigan loved to brag about any and every thing. Surely he had a friend he told about all the shady dealings he’d made. The ill-gotten emails wouldn’t hold up in court or anything, but they didn’t have to. Alistair would be tried by the court of public opinion. He’d never get another job in his field and no one with either cash or caché would ever associate with him again.
So long as he was left in financial and social ruin and Jake’s father was cleared of wrong-doing, he didn’t much care if Alistair spent a day in jail. Being a broke nobody would be a fate
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