Chapter 6

The Hollywood Charity Gala was on Saturday night. I started work the second I got home and pulled an all-nighter with the aid of lots of coffee.

I know that probably sounds horrible to you, but I’m a computer geek. Twenty-four hours of hacking is my version of getting drunk at the club and going to an afterparty.

I won’t bore you, but by Sunday evening, I had poked into every nook and cranny of the internet I could find, searching for ways to fuck Grant Carlson up.

He was a slippery character, I’ll give him that.

All of his major bank accounts appeared to be offshore holding companies. I traced 27 accounts back to St. Lucia, the Seychelles, and Samoa. I found out he owned astounding amounts of property in every major city in the world – Paris, New York City, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Moscow, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, London, you name it. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars.

And that wasn’t even counting his family’s construction companies.

But the most useful thing I