Chapter 2 - The Man at Table Six
Nicholas didn't ask Ellie to repeat the statement.
That told her more than surprise would have.
He believed her.
Or at least he believed it was possible.
“What did he look like?” Ethan asked.
Ellie described the man.
Mid-fifties.
Gray hair.
Expensive navy suit.
Small scar beneath his left ear.
A wedding ring he removed before dinner and placed inside his jacket pocket.
Nicholas walked toward the window.
“Victor.”
The name sounded like something unpleasant in his mouth.
“Who is Victor?” Ellie asked.
“My financial director.”
“Then you have a problem.”
Ethan actually looked amused.
Nicholas turned.
“You've known me less than fifteen minutes.”
“I've known your evening for fifteen minutes. It's been terrible.”
A brief silence.
Then Nicholas laughed.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
Ellie wasn't prepared for how different it made him look.
Younger.
Almost ordinary.
Then his phone rang.
The moment vanished.
He answered.
Listened.
Said nothing.
Finally:
“Bring Marco somewhere safe. Nobody speaks to him until Ethan arrives.”
He disconnected.
Ellie looked toward the clock.
12:36 a.m.
“I need to call my manager.”
“You won't be returning tonight.”
“I realize that.”
“Or tomorrow.”
“That part wasn't obvious.”
Nicholas faced her.
“Ellie, whoever arranged tonight knew my schedule, my table, my car, my exit, and the valet rotation.”
“You think someone inside your organization gave them that information.”
“Yes.”
“And now you think they'll care about me.”
“Yes.”
Ellie rubbed both hands over her face.
“My rent is due Monday.”
Nicholas stared.
“What?”
“I don't know how your world works, Nicholas. In mine, if I don't show up tomorrow, I don't get paid.”
“I'll compensate you.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because then I owe you.”
“You saved my life.”
“I yelled at you near a car.”
“You dragged me away from it.”
“Fine. I aggressively provided customer service.”
Ethan looked away, hiding another smile.
Nicholas stepped closer.
“You don't owe me anything.”
“Good.”
“But I'm not letting you walk back onto Madison Avenue while I don't know who did this.”
Ellie folded her arms.
“Then find out quickly.”
Nicholas studied her for several seconds.
“That's the plan.”
Over the next two hours, Ellie discovered that Nicholas's quiet manner hid an astonishing capacity for command.
People called.
Ethan answered.
Names appeared on screens.
Security footage arrived.
Restaurant employee rosters.
Traffic camera timestamps.
Valet schedules.
Ellie tried not to listen.
She failed.
At 2:19 a.m., Ethan placed a photograph on the coffee table.
Victor Hale.
Same gray hair.
Same scar.
Same navy suit.
Ellie pointed.
“That's him.”
Nicholas leaned back.
Victor had worked for Nicholas for fourteen years.
He had been at Nicholas's father's funeral.
He had handled the financial side of nearly every company Nicholas controlled.
“You trust him,” Ellie said.
“I did.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Yes.”
Ellie understood then.
The car wasn't what frightened Nicholas.
Betrayal was.
At 3:00 a.m., Ellie finally accepted coffee.
At 3:17, she fell asleep sitting upright on Nicholas's sofa.
When she woke, sunlight filled the apartment.
A blanket covered her.
Nicholas stood near the kitchen island speaking quietly with Ethan.
Ellie sat up.
“What time is it?”
“Seven twenty.”
She groaned.
“My manager is going to kill me.”
“I spoke with him.”
Her head snapped up.
“You what?”
“You're taking several paid days off.”
“You don't get to arrange my life.”
“I arranged your paycheck.”
“That isn't better.”
“Your manager disagreed.”
Ellie stood.
Nicholas slid a plate toward her.
Toast.
Eggs.
Fruit.
She stared.
“You cook?”
“No.”
“Good. I was starting to think you had no flaws.”
Nicholas's mouth twitched.
Ethan interrupted.
“We found something.”
He rotated his laptop.
A financial report filled the screen.
Numbers.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Ellie understood almost none of it.
Nicholas did.
His face changed.
“Fourteen months.”
Ethan nodded.
“Approximately.”
“What is it?” Ellie asked.
Nicholas remained silent.
Ethan answered.
“Money has been disappearing.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“That's not a number.”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Twenty-eight million dollars.”
Ellie slowly set down her coffee.
“Oh.”
Nicholas scrolled.
Victor's access appeared repeatedly.
But something didn't fit.
Ellie leaned closer.
“What?”
Nicholas looked at her.
“You made a face.”
“I don't understand accounting.”
“You don't need to.”
She pointed to the dates.
“These transfers happen Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Ethan nodded.
“Yes.”
“Those are the nights you eat at Fiore D’Oro.”
Nicholas and Ethan looked at each other.
Ellie continued.
“What time?”
Ethan opened the transaction history.
9:06.
8:54.
9:22.
9:11.
Always while Nicholas was at dinner.
“Someone wanted the transactions to happen while you were publicly somewhere else,” Ellie said.
Nicholas stared at the screen.
Then at her.
“You see patterns.”
“I told you. Waitress.”
Ethan opened another log.
His expression tightened.
“There's more.”
Every transfer required secondary authorization.
A second identity.
A name appeared.
Nicholas went completely still.
Ellie read it.
Anthony Pellagrini.
She looked at Nicholas.
“Who is Anthony?”
Nicholas didn't answer.
Ethan did.
“His brother.”
Ellie frowned.
“Then ask him.”
Nicholas finally spoke.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Nicholas looked toward the city.
“Because Anthony has been dead for six years.”
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And somebody had just used a dead man's identity to steal twenty-eight million dollars.
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