“Yeah,” he’d said. “Yeah, I’ll kill him.”
The elevator doors slid open. Cooper shook his head to clear it, then stepped out into the office. The sudden sunlight was bright but not clean, the air beyond the windows thick with dust. Shannon had looked up at him, quirked that grin of hers. The lawyer had twisted his lips. From behind the desk, the handsome hologram of Erik Epstein gestured him in.
It was only Millie who understood, though.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The lawyer ushered them back the way they’d come, down the sun-smeared hallway and the tiered stacks of plants. Cooper paused at the door of “Epstein’s” office, glanced back at the hologram. The thin, handsome doppelganger met his eyes, started a smile, and then canceled it. They stared at one another for a moment. Then, slowly, the faux-Epstein nodded and disappeared.
In the elevator, Kobb said, “I hope you realize what an honor that was. Mr. Epstein is a very busy man.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said. “It was eye-opening to meet him.”
Kobb cocked his head at that, didn’t respond. Cooper had suspected the lawyer didn’t know, felt it confirmed. He wondered how many people did.
The doors slid open on the lobby, the massive tri-d tuned now to a nature show, lush jungle green, monkeys perched in the crooks of tree limbs, gauzy light filtering from a faraway sun. Shannon tucked her hands in her pockets, craning her neck. “Funny. After the display upstairs, this isn’t quite as impressive.”
“That’s for sure.” He turned to Kobb. “Thanks for the time.”
“Certainly, Mr.…Cappello. A pleasure. You can see yourselves out from here?” The lawyer spun on his heel, already checking his watch as he strode to the elevator. Late for something. He seemed the kind of guy who ran through his whole life heading for something more important.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” Cooper said. “What did you talk to, uh, Epstein, about?”
“You. He asked if I thought you were telling the truth.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d seen you attacked by DAR agents. That you’d had plenty of opportunities to make sure I got arrested, and that you hadn’t.” She grinned. “Kobb stopped just short of advising Epstein to have us both arrested. I don’t think he enjoyed that meeting.”
“I don’t get the feeling Kobb enjoys very much.” They strolled through the lobby, heels clicking on the polished floor. “He must be a kick in bed, huh?”
She laughed. “Three to five minutes of church-approved foreplay, followed by restrained intercourse during which both partners think about baseball.”
“Mr. Cappello?”
He and Shannon spun, easy enough but both shifting weight, softening the knees, positioning themselves back-to-back. They’d grown used to each other already, knew which side to cover if something went wrong. Funny.
The woman who had called his pseudonym wore too much lipstick and her hair in a tight bun. “Tom Cappello?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Epstein asked me to give you this.” She held up a tan calfskin briefcase, smooth and expensive looking. Cooper took it from her. “Thanks.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiled vacantly and turned away.
“What’s that?” Shannon asked.
He weighed the case and his words. “Epstein is going to help me. But you know. Nothing for nothing.”
“What are you doing for him?”
“Just an odd job.” He gave her a bland smile and saw her read it, understand. She was in the biz, after all. Before she could ask a follow-up question, he said, “Listen, I know we’re all done, but…”
She tilted her head, the idea of a smile crossing her lips. “But?”
“You feel like grabbing a bite?”