Chapter 7

He talked for about forty seconds, and I could hear the shape of the other voice through the phone even if I couldn't hear the words. Sharp. Fast. Interrupting.

Desmond lowered the phone.

"Mr. Cross is on his way," he said. He looked at Ruben. "Keep him here. Don't touch him. Just don't let him leave."

"Don't let him leave," Ruben repeated, and looked at me, and I could see him trying to work out whether he was guarding a man or a piece of evidence.

Then Desmond turned to Vivian Cross.

"And you," he said. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you've been on this floor for six weeks and you've done nothing but write reports nobody asked for and stand too close to the bike. So here's what happens. You're suspended, effective now. Hand me your badge."

"No," she said.

"Hand me your badge."

"No."

"You're a sales associate."

"I'm not a sales associate," Vivian said.

She said it quietly, and it landed on the room like a dropped tray.

"My name is Vivian Cross," she said. "Warren Cross is my father. I've been on this floor for six weeks as a corporate auditor on instruction from the board, and in that time I have documented eleven instances of misallocated inventory, six unauthorized deposits, and one attempted sale of a company asset that was never listed for sale."

Desmond's mouth opened.

"That's the thing you should be worried about," she said. "Not the plate."

Somebody in the crowd was filming now. Three somebodies. Marisol Vega had her phone up and wasn't hiding it.

Desmond Pike stood very still, and I watched him run the math, and I watched him find the number he didn't like: that he had spent six weeks ordering the boss's daughter to fetch champagne.

He reached for his phone again.

"Then let's ask your father," he said, and put it on speaker.

Warren Cross's voice came out of it into a room of sixty people with perfect clarity.

"Vivian. Is that you?"

"It's me."

"Go home," her father said. "We'll talk in the morning. And whoever that man is standing next to you - I don't care what he's holding, I don't care what he says he built. Get him off the property. Tonight."

The line clicked.

Desmond Pike started to smile.