Chapter 8: The Wire

The wire was smaller than Damian expected. A thin black disc, no bigger than a coin, with adhesive backing.

"Stick it under your collar," Clara said. "The microphone picks up everything within ten feet. Mira will be in a van outside, recording."

They were in Clara's office. It was seven in the evening. Marcus's meeting was in one hour.

"What if they search me?"

"They won't. Marcus wants to believe you're still his pawn. Searching you would mean he doesn't trust you, and he needs you to trust him." Clara handed him the disc. "Put it on."

Damian pressed it under his shirt collar. It was cold against his skin.

"Testing," Mira said from across the room. She was wearing headphones, laptop open. "I hear you. Loud and clear."

Clara walked to the window. "Peter will be waiting for you in the lobby. He'll drive you to Marcus's office. He'll be listening to every word."

"I know."

"He'll report back to Marcus the moment you leave. If you say anything that doesn't match the story, he'll know."

"I know."

Clara turned. "Do you? Because if you slip, Marcus will destroy the evidence. He'll destroy Peter. He'll destroy you. And then he'll come for me."

Damian met her eyes. "I won't slip."

"See that you don't."

Peter was waiting in the lobby, as promised. He smiled when Damian walked out.

"Ready, sir?"

"Ready."

They drove in silence. Damian stared out the window, watching the city pass. His hands were steady. His heart was not.

"Sir?" Peter glanced at him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just tired."

"Of course. This must be difficult. With Miss Sterling and everything."

"Difficult" was one word for it. Damian kept his face neutral. "I'm managing."

They pulled into the parking garage of Vance Industries. Peter led him to the elevator. Up. Up. Up.

The doors opened onto Marcus's office. It was smaller than Clara's. More showy. Expensive art, leather chairs, a bar in the corner.

Marcus stood by the window. He turned when they entered.

"Damian. Peter. Glad you could make it." He gestured to the chairs. "Sit. Drink?"

"No."

"Suit yourself." Marcus poured himself a scotch and sat across from them. "Let's get to it. I'll buy the debt from Sterling Group. Two billion. I'll take it off your hands. In exchange, you give me the evidence you've been gathering. The emails. The transfers. Everything."

"And then what?"

"Then you work for me. Quietly. You keep your company, your house, your reputation. No one knows the difference."

Damian leaned back. "That's a generous offer."

"I'm a generous man."

"You're a man who planted a spy in my company and a mistress in my bed."

Marcus didn't flinch. "Elena was a business decision. Nothing personal."

"She was my wife's destruction."

"Your wife destroyed herself. She could have stayed quiet. She chose to make a scene." Marcus took a sip of his scotch. "She's making a scene now. Buying your debt. Cutting off your suppliers. She's not doing this because she loves you, Damian. She's doing this because she wants to watch you burn."

Damian's hands clenched. He forced them to relax. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing yet. Just say yes. Let me handle the rest."

"And Peter?"

Marcus glanced at Peter. "Peter stays where he is. He's been useful. I'd hate to lose him."

Peter didn't react. He sat perfectly still, hands folded, face blank.

Damian thought of Clara. Alone in that hospital room. Waiting for a husband who never came.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it."

Marcus smiled. "Good. I'll have the paperwork drawn up tomorrow." He stood. "One more thing. Sterling Group has a weak point. An account in the Caymans. If you can get me the access codes, I'll move against her before she moves against us."

Damian's blood ran cold. "I don't have access to her accounts."

"You're her husband. She'll trust you eventually. When she does, you'll give me the codes."

"She won't trust me."

"She will. You're a charming man when you want to be." Marcus walked to the door. "One month. Get me those codes. Then we'll talk about your debt."

Damian didn't speak until they were back in the car.

Peter drove. Damian stared out the window. The wire pressed against his collarbone.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"Fine." Damian's voice was flat. "Just thinking."

They pulled up to his building. Damian got out. Peter rolled down the window.

"Sir? What do you want me to do about the meeting tomorrow? The lawyers are asking about the board vote."

"Tell them I'm handling it."

"Of course, sir." Peter rolled up the window and drove away.

Damian stood on the sidewalk. His hands were shaking. He pulled out his phone and called Clara.

"Did you get it?" she asked.

"Every word. He wants your Cayman accounts. He wants me to get him the access codes."

Clara was quiet. "He knows about the Caymans."

"He knows a lot. And he's not going to wait. One month."

"Then we have one month." Clara's voice was steady. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start building a case against him. And Damian?"

"Yes?"

"You did well tonight."

She hung up. Damian stood on the sidewalk, the wire still pressed against his skin, and for the first time since the gala, he allowed himself to breathe.