Chapter 5

5

L uke was at the agency's kitchenette making himself the strongest possible cup of tea. He kept his own JING Assam Breakfast bags in a locked drawer at his desk because the regular office-provided PG Tips wouldn't cut it. He took his brew without any milk or sugar and went as far as steeping his black tea for six minutes, not the customary five, for maximum strength and a hint of bitterness.

Luke carried his favorite Talented Mr. Ripley mug to the conference room. The debriefing meeting had just started when he got in. Divya's image was projected on the room's big screen. She was connecting from home after working until late the previous night while trailing Sol, codename the Stringer.

"They left the restaurant a bit after seven. The Stringer was pretty eager to get moving." Divya checked her notes. "The friend, on the other hand… Not sure how those two managed to become friendly with the Stringer being such a great believer in punctuality."

"They met at uni," Luke added, feeling like a nosy voyeur once again. Had he been doing his job when he'd tried to find out as much as possible about the mark's background? Or had he been extra zealous?

He knew Sol was around forty and, according to her LinkedIn and more than a decade's worth of online clippings, she'd been working as a journalist for almost half her life. She had lived in Los Angeles for about ten years. Yet, with all his digging, he hadn't figured out what had made Sol leave that city and relocate to London. Not that he thought anyone needed a reason for that.

"The play was over a bit after ten and they left the theater with the bulk of the audience. They seemed pleased with what they saw, in case anyone wants to check McAvoy's play at the Trafalgar," Divya said when she clearly couldn't offer anything meaty on the subject. "I think they may have considered going for a drink in a nearby bar, but the friend checked her messages and decided against it. It must have been something important because, in a matter of seconds, the Stringer hailed a black cab, gave the friend a couple of air kisses, and sent her away. From my past surveillance, it normally takes these two a minimum of forty-five minutes to actually say goodbye."

Luke half smiled. He had witnessed the same.

"And would long goodbyes make the Stringer more likely to be our thief?" interjected Thompson. The agency's founding partner was wearing one of those bespoke three-piece suits that were expensive even to look at, and yet it did nothing for him. Luke hadn't been able to pinpoint what it was, but there was something inherently unkempt about his appearance, even fresh from a ￡200 wet shave and maintenance haircut.

"Er… no," admitted Divya. "In any case, the Stringer grabbed another taxi and was home by half ten. What really puzzles me though is how she can afford to live there."

"She manages to make a decent living," Luke said. He'd also been surprised at Sol owning the two-bedroom, two-bathroom house. It had sold for almost ￡1.5 million at the beginning of 2020.

"As a journalist?" asked Divya, still obviously in disbelief.

Thompson chuckled.

There was nothing their fifty-something-year-old boss liked more than rejoicing in the many things others couldn't afford with their choice of profession and their family background, especially when he could easily afford it.

"She comes from money," added Luke, and Thompson stopped snickering.

There was nothing the co-founder of T&T liked less than the possibility of an improbable person having more money than he initially assumed.

"Explain," said Thompson curtly.

"Her family owns an import and distribution company. They focus on the US market and specialize in gourmet and traditional Spanish foods. Arbequina olive oil, Marcona almonds, and the like." Luke checked his notes, thankful for the research he'd put in.

"It's a lot of oil and nuts for a ￡1.5-million house, don't you think? And it's not like she works at the family's company," said Thompson. Luke was sure something about the idea of a Southern European journalist and uncoupled woman with independent wealth didn't sit well with the manager.

"I think she may be a trust-fund kid," admitted Luke. "But I can try to look into the specifics of how much her family's company is worth and dig a bit more into her economic situation."

"Do it. Was she a cash buyer who used all that family money, or does she owe a big mortgage? That would give her incentive. I like her for this."

Luke cringed at his boss's lack of investigative rigor. He liked her as the thief in their investigation.

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves," Thompson continued. "Who else may have the motive to steal?"

Luke grabbed the dossier of the case once again and tried to put names to all possibly involved in the disappearance of the leaked script besides Sol Novo. There was the wife of one of London's richest TV producers, Philippa Majors. There was Agatha Condon, the minor TV agent who'd seen better times in her career. Then Josie Ruiz, of course, the Pilates studio owner and the one who'd been teaching the night of the theft: Thursday, February 23. And there was Sara Daniels, one half of the duo of siblings and co-creators of the Meshflixx show The Privateers.

The period detective drama was co-run by Sara and her twin sister, Bryana Daniels. A copy of a script of the show with Sara's name watermarked on all pages was inside the creator's bag when she went to Josie's class the evening of the theft. Sara could no longer find it there when she left to go home. Her bag had been inside a locker the whole time. The contents of the script were published online a few hours later.

It had been a particularly full class suffering to Josie's whims at the studio that night. Among the other attendees was Martha Broch, a visual artist and title designer who'd recently won an Emmy for her work reminiscent of Saul Bass in a Christopher Nolan sci-fi miniseries. Mark Green had also been there. He was a veteran director with more than twenty hits under his belt, although none of them had been released during the last decade. And then there was Lashana Fletcher, a perfectly put-together PR consultant who was all straight white teeth and not a single wrinkle in her flawless skin or designer clothes.

All of them had close ties to London's film and TV industry, and all of them were regulars at Josie's small outfit for the fitness enthusiasts and worried-wells. Lashana was the newest addition and had only been to the studio on two previous occasions before the night of the theft. But she had remained a dedicated client since then.

Luke, Divya, and their T&T colleague Sanjay had followed them all intermittently to see if something in their behavior could link them to the theft. So far, no investigator had anything to report other than the marks' recurring sweaty visits to the Pilates studio and a taste for going out to lunch and dinner to some of London's most popular spots.

"The client wasn't happy with our first bill," said Thomson. T&T's other founding partner wore his customary no-efforts-given mix of baggy jeans and not-necessarily-clean hoodie. He tended to be in charge of delivering controversial decisions. "Too many hours billed. And I happen to think they're right. So we'll probably start eliminating surveillance in the next couple of days."

"Whom do we feel should still be on top of our list of suspects besides Sol?" countered P, adjusting his cufflinks. To distinguish between their bosses' too-similar last names, the junior partners openly referred to Thompson as P and Thomson, without the p , not so openly as Sweatshirt due to his apparel decisions.

"The has-been successful agent keeps fitting the profile," said Divya, and Luke was happy to see he wasn't the only one with the same feeling about Agatha. "She lives in a three-bedroom apartment in Notting Hill, she pays for Josie's ridiculously prohibitive monthly membership, she keeps a maid on staff part-time, and she's just back from a trip to St. Barts. Yet she barely seems to be at the agency or have any clients left…"

"Let's not forget Mark has a beef with Meshflixx," added Sanjay.

A few days prior, Sanjay had overheard a disgruntled phone call in which the filmmaker complained to his agent about his movies being available on the streaming service. Apparently, Mark wasn't getting much money off that, and he didn't like the format in which the films were made available on the service.

Thompson and Thomson agreed to keep intermittent surveillance on all subjects with the idea of dropping it on Martha (too successful in her career), Lashana (too well-connected in her profession to even contemplate such a self-sabotaging plot as theft), and Philippa (simply too rich due to her marital status) in the upcoming days if they kept looking uninvolved with the affair.