CHAPTER 260: CHAPTER 260 MIRA: UNDERCOVER

Inspector Silva walked up to me and reached for the front of my blouse.

I snatched the button out of his hand. ‘I can do it myself.’

‘The gadget’s sensitive,’ he said. ‘Needs careful handling.’

‘I can manage pinning a button to a blouse, thanks.’

If not for the strictly professional look on his face, and the fact I’d spent the last three days getting a sense of him, I might’ve thought he was trying to grope me. But the man had one setting: work.

‘The mini camcorder captures everything within twenty metres of your field of vision,’ he said, stepping back. ‘Make sure the lens is facing outwards and at the right angle.’

I looked down and adjusted the tiny white device. It blended in perfectly with the rest of the buttons on my blouse.

Silva checked something on his laptop, then put on a pair of earphones. ‘The view’s good. Say something.’

‘Something.’

‘Loud and clear.’ He pulled the earphones off.

I resisted the urge to keep looking down at the button. ‘What if he doesn’t say anything useful tonight?’

‘Then we try again tomorrow.’

Seeing the doubt on my face, he added, ‘Don’t worry. He’s starting to crack. It won’t be long. He likes you. He’ll talk.’

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and flashing him the engagement ring on my finger. I knew what he meant, but still. Couldn’t he find a better way to phrase it?

‘We need names,’ he said. ‘Who helped him move the funds, who cooked the books. He—’

‘I know, I know.’ I cut him off. ‘He’s not smart enough to pull this off alone. You’ve told me. Repeatedly.’

After our first meeting at the café, once he was sure I was on board, Silva had briefed me very thoroughly on Fabrizio. Possibly too thoroughly.

Whatever brainpower Fabrizio had in design clearly didn’t carry over to running a business.

As the founder of Valmont & Cie, he used to do everything himself. At one point, he was CEO, CFO, COO, and every other C-title, as if he were running a corner shop, not a rapidly growing company.

As things took off, he overinvested in stock, priced poorly, overhired, and paid too generously. When the invoices started piling up, he turned to investors. That bought him time, but the mismanagement continued, and soon he needed to make the numbers look better before investors started asking questions.

From there, it wasn’t a huge leap to falsifying reports, forging documents, and committing loan fraud.

Even Silva admitted the crimes came more from incompetence than greed.

‘But a crime’s still a crime,’ he insisted. ‘Just because he didn’t mean to hurt anyone doesn’t mean his investors and suppliers aren’t taking the hit.’

‘Worried I’ll go soft on him?’ I scoffed. ‘Don’t. He owes me five million.’

Silva nodded. ‘Shall we run through the script again?’

‘If you must.’ I sighed and sat down for another dry run.

‘If anything goes wrong, give the signal. Our team will move in straightaway.’

I nodded. I was actually a little excited. Who hadn’t dreamt of being an undercover cop after watching Infernal Affairs?

‘Wait. He’s not dangerous, is he?’

‘No. No registered firearms. No history of violence as far as we can tell.’

‘Not even a pub fight?’

‘Not even.’

‘All right.’ That lined up with my impression of Fabrizio. Charming. Polite. More brainy than brawny.

An hour later, I stepped out of the hotel and caught a taxi to Le Meurice. From the location and the price of the menu, you’d never guess the man was technically bankrupt.

He greeted me with his usual charming smile. It was getting harder to ignore the dark circles under his eyes.

I ordered foie gras, sea bass with lemon confit, and a chocolate soufflé, along with a bottle of Château Margaux. I matched him drink for drink.

There’s a saying that people tell the truth when they’re drunk. I was hoping that held true for Fabrizio.

I’d taken a couple of RU-21 pills before leaving. Hopefully they’d help me stay sober enough to get what Silva needed.

Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the stress. Or maybe he genuinely saw me as a friend. Whatever the reason, the usual cool, collected Fabrizio finally dropped the act.

‘It’s not as easy as it looks,’ he said, swirling his sixth glass of wine. His words were starting to slur. ‘Everyone said the gold price would keep going up. Stockpiling it made sense. I needed it as raw material anyway, right? How was I supposed to know the price would crash a month later?’

I made sympathetic noises.

I knew exactly what crash he meant. Two years ago, when I was still at Nyx Collective, Savannah Lane had lost so much hair over it she’d started wearing a wig to work.

‘I’m facing the same issues with Mira Joie,’ I said. ‘I thought things were going well. Orders were coming in. Then I looked at the burn rate. I couldn’t believe how fast the money was disappearing.’

‘Exactly.’ Fabrizio nodded hard. ‘After I saw my first year’s financials, I put up a job ad for a CFO the next day.’

I pulled a worried frown. ‘Finance is a nightmare. Balancing the books is worse. I’ve got investors coming in a couple of months, and I’m scared of what they’ll say when they see my quarterly numbers.’

‘You have investors?’

I nodded. ‘Just a few. People I know who chipped in when I started out.’ That was a lie. Ashton was my only investor. ‘The Accounts Receivable Turnover is going to give them a heart attack.’

‘Maybe I can help,’ Fabrizio offered.

‘How?’ I gave him a look. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a secret CFA.’

‘If I were, I wouldn’t have nearly drunk myself to death over Valmont’s numbers.’ He smiled weakly. ‘No, but I know someone who is.’

‘Thanks, but I’ve already got a CFA.’

‘This one’s different.’

‘Different how?’

‘He knows how to polish the books. Make them look cleaner.’

‘You mean, he cooks them?’

Fabrizio shook his head. ‘Nothing that crude. Technically, it’s not illegal. If anyone found out, there might be questions. But it’s not a crime.’

‘Huh.’ My pulse picked up. This was the guy Silva needed. ‘What’s his name? Can you send me his contact info?’

‘I don’t save his number. He doesn’t like that.’

‘A business card then?’

‘He doesn’t give those out.’

‘Does he at least have a website? An office?’

‘No site. But wait, let me think. I know his number starts with a 6. His office is on...’

I leaned forward.

Someone called my name. I ignored it.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.

I was so annoyed, I nearly snapped.

Assuming Silva had jumped the gun, I spun around.

It wasn’t Silva.