Choke Point Read Free Page A

negotiate.
    Knox downs the rest of the coffee. It’s like swallowing a six-volt battery. “I’ve got Tommy to think of. The Turkish mob is not going to like being exposed. Just ask your low-level bureaucrat.”
    “Winston will pay four times the last job.”
    The number 200,000 swims in Knox’s head. It’s a lot of thimble cymbals.
    Knox signals the waiter and orders another shot of espresso, wanting to ramp it up to twelve volts. Dulwich does the same. The curious woman stands up to leave. Knox senses a missed opportunity. “I’ll need Grace.”
    “Done.”
    “Resources.”
    “It’s Graham Winston, Knox.”
    “A reliable contact in the police department would help.” He wants the young girl recovered safely. All the girls recovered safely. He resents that Dulwich knows this about him.
    “Know just the guy. Name of Joshua Brower. We go way back.”
    “I’ve got to believe that someone in power is looking the other way on this thing. Right? So the police piece is a tricky one.”
    “Brower’s trustworthy. I’m with you.”
    “You wouldn’t be leaving something out?”
    “That’s not in anybody’s best interest.”
    “Listen, we both know, given the choice of losing me or Grace, Brian Primer’s going to protect Grace.”
    Dulwich is silent.
    Knox decides not to push. He suspects Grace Chu’s star has risen within Rutherford Risk. First and foremost a forensic accountant, she has recently proven herself a quick study of computer hacking and, because of her former training with the Chinese Army, is no slouch in field ops. Knox knows he’s not in the same category––he offers Primer and Dulwich his cover of a legitimate international exporter and a growing passion for stomping the ugliest bugs that crawl out of the dark.
    There’s sand in Knox’s teeth. Or maybe it’s coffee grounds. He can’t afford to get himself hurt or killed with Tommy’s ongoing medical care unfunded. The money being offered would help him to eventually cover his brother’s long-term home care. He bridles at the thought of an institution.
    He’s pissed as he accepts the job.

I n another life, Grace would’ve been a witch doctor. A digital witch doctor. She balances between several worlds: her father’s traditionalist Chinese versus the reality that is Shanghai, Beijing, Chengdu and the other major cities joining the Western world; a love life that has lost its way; a woman in an overwhelmingly male-dominated world of private security; numbers on a page versus numbers in the cloud.
    As her fingers hit the keypad, all that changes: she’s transported into a digital realm that both absorbs her and fascinates her. She is in control, despite the vodka. Her eyes stray over to Mr. Smear-n-Off—the digital gates open before her like she’s marching on Troy. She’s through three barriers and onto the corporate network, marching with her army of education, training and experience and pushing her horse through with its belly full of surprises.
    The investment firm has thousands of clients—tens of thousands—and she’s trying to find just one. No name. No account number. She’s exhilarated. Electric. Part of it is the voyeurism. Part of it, the excitement of exploration. Part of it, superiority. All she has is a number and a date, and the chances are the number has been broken into smaller numbers. But that’s part of the fun. So it’s down to the date in sorting through hundreds of deposits, knowing the mistake that’s always made is the cents. She’s hunting for fifty-four cents. Over three hundred thousand dollars stolen and she’s going to find it with just fifty-four cents.
    With any luck, that will just be the start of this. She suspects the three hundred thousand may be only the tip of the iceberg.
    Mr. Smear-n-Off moans and rolls over but isn’t even close to REM—he’s not coming around anytime soon. Her eyes are to the right of the decimal point, the numbers scrolling in what to others would appear a