“I stashed him in my dad’s old library. But he’s using all of his own equipment.”
“Okay.” Tray pulled me with him as I followed him in a daze; everything was overwhelming.
The library was huge. It looked half the size of a banquet hall with books lining two complete walls. In one corner was a huge mahogany desk, a fucking Best Buy display behind it. The computer and whatever else (I had no idea) looked all brand new. They probably were. Tray commented once that he doesn’t touch a lot of stuff in the house, not since his parents had left.
And I saw Props was hunched over his laptop, a bunch of little gadgets hooked up to his computer with lights blinking rapidly.
“Heya, Props.” I greeted.
He straightened, startled. “Hey.”
“Forget where you were?” I teased, but I saw he had. That was funny, at least in the sense of everything else going on.
“You owe me, huge!” he exclaimed, wheeling out from his computer. He grabbed up a pile of papers next to him. “I’ve got names, account numbers, passwords, and a pile of illegal jargon that could get me in the slammer. Holy shit—you owe me big time.”
“Well, I’ll get ya a hooker,” I said easily, straddling a chair next to him. “What do you got?”
“Like I said.” I heard the fear in his voice, but it was laced with excitement. The guy was a techno adrenalin junkie. I knew what adrenalin did to a person. He had absolutely no qualms with what he’d just gotten for me. He just liked to voice that he did, it was more socially appropriate. “I’ve got everything.”
As I took the papers, I gasped at what I saw.
Scrambling up, I cried out, “Tray, holy shit!”
Tray moved closer, studying the papers over my shoulders.
“Three Swiss accounts,” I said.
“Those are Galverson’s aliases,” Tray announced as he studied the papers. “Another two in the Cayman’s. Jace h
as four accounts on here, too. Along with—”He froze, standing absolutely still. Déjà vu crashed into my body, remembering the morning when Jace and Galverson had arrived to the house. The Tray I saw that morning was the same I was looking at now. I shivered.
“Along with what?” I asked, holding my breath.
“My dad. And a guy named Carl Broozer.”
“Who’s Carl Broozer?”
“A kingpin on the West coast.” Tray said flatly, his eyes were dead. “Galverson’s declared Pedlam as the highway intersection for drug-runs. It makes sense now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Galverson wants my contacts. But he’s not worried because he knows I won’t say anything—he’s got my dad. But this deal must’ve been set up for at least a few years now. Jace is sitting smack dab on every black-market shipment that’s running across the nation. If Galverson’s in bed with Broozer and he has contacts in South America—”
I couldn’t comprehend whatever Tray was saying. I just knew it was enough to make him go pale at whatever conclusion he came to.
He fixed Props with a piercing stare, causing the kid to yelp before scurrying backwards on his chair. “You got all of this?”
“Yeah.” He gulped, the terror was evident in his voice. “Taryn said to follow everything back so I did.”
“And you didn’t leave any prints? None?”
“No. Hell no. I used a system that I just programmed this fall. It’s a ghost tracker. They won’t have any idea that I’ve been in there.”
“How do you know?” Tray grilled him.
“Because,” he looked like he was reminding himself to breathe, “because I hacked into some FBI databases in September. If they knew I was there, my fail-alarms would’ve gone off and I’d already be in prison. Trust me, those guys have no idea I was in those accounts.”
“Do you know what you did here? It’s very important that you know exactly how dangerous this stuff is.”