To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) Read Free

love! Later!
    *****
    Trevor had listened to the call and read the transcripts several times. He’d used the initial information provided by George to trace the call to Mark Devlin Software, a budding computer development company out of Austin, Texas. Assuming that Mark Devlin was the man captured on the recorded conversation, Trevor sifted through the digital maze for details on him.
    A quick search on Devlin revealed a sharp businessman who had picked the right time to invest in software development in a city that promised to be the next technology hub in the United States. Although Devlin himself was not a developer, he had the knowledge and instincts on how to harvest the best brains in the field. That explained why he was aware of Conor Brennan’s work. Trevor would have to tread softly with that one—or not.
    Trevor hoped George’s taps would yield additional information on Mucha and the notes. He wanted to find out more about the man who apparently had been in close contact with his father. It was still too early to know if the taps would bear any fruit. For now, he had no time to waste.
    With only a glimpse to check the clock, he picked up the phone and made the call.
    “MDS Enterprises. How may I direct your call?”
    “Mark Devlin, please.”
    “May I have your name?
    “Trevor Bauer.”
    “One moment please while I connect you.”
    After a brief pause, a curt prompt sounded on the line, “Devlin.”
    “Mr. Devlin, I’m calling in regard to some scientific material you have in your possession that’s of interest to me.”
    “Who is this again?”
    “Bauer. Trevor Bauer.”
    “I don’t think I know a Bauer. Have we met before?”
    “Not yet. But I think after our talk you’ll want to.”
    “Exactly what material are you referring to? Everything regarding our current product line can be found on our website—”
    Trevor cut in before Devlin could continue to spew the standard company sales pitch. “Dr. Brennan’s notes. Word on the street is you’re in possession of them.” Trevor held a tight rein on his eagerness to get a hold of the notes. While talking, he cradled the phone against his shoulder and composed a succinct email to Devlin.
    “How did you—”
    Trevor interrupted him again. “I’m curious. How much do you want for the notes? I’m sure you must have a figure in mind.”
    “I don’t know how you found out about them, but they’re not for sale. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve things to do.” Devlin’s response was terse and clipped, forbidding further discussion.
    But Trevor wasn’t about to give up that easily. The email would be another pitch for the notes he wanted so badly. “Nevertheless, I’ve sent you an email. I recommend you read it.”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    Trevor had thought hard about what he could offer Devlin in exchange for the notes. As he had run through the options in his mind, he recalled the dark undertone in Devlin’s voice when his conference call had been interrupted. Based on the little Trevor had been able to hear, the stolen files were of high value to his company.
    “Hey! Hold on a second. How do you know my email?” Devlin asked in a rush.
    “All that matters, Mr. Devlin, is that I can be of assistance with a more pressing situation—more like the big pickle—your company is facing at the moment.”
    “What? How do you—?” Devlin sounded decisively flabbergasted.
    “I’ve explained it in the email. But let me make it simple for you. I can track those missing files. My price, the notes. Think hard before you make your decision. Ask yourself, what’s more valuable to you: your company files, or some old man’s chicken-scratch?”
    Trevor hung up and met Cassandra’s eyes trained on him.
    “What do we have on our hands?”
    “Nothing yet. Let’s hope he bites.”
    “Give me names. Let me do my part.”
    Trevor raised his eyebrow humorously. “Antsy, are you?”
    “Just trying to help,” Cassandra shrugged.