The Fall of East: Book 3 in the Hear No Evil Trilogy, Malone, Nana [inspiring books for teens txt] 📗

But Denning only sees what he wants.

The crates were stacked in neat, orderly piles along the walls and windows, and along the center room of the main warehouse space. Some of the most influential art pieces of modern time. We’d managed to capture some of the most dangerous art thieves in the world.

But why did all of it feel hollow after my father’s death?

* * *

East

"So we're doing this, we're really going after them like this?"

Drew as usual was worried. But Bridge had long had enough. "Mate, it's this or nothing. Can you think of a more ideal way?"

Drew just shook his head. "This is like the equivalent of stamping our feet in front of a bull. They will come for us."

Ben shook his head. "No. They won't. There's a reason they elected me Director Prime. I think everyone was tired of the way Van Linsted said we should do things. So we're going to be clear and honest and make this happen. We're going to oust them and put anyone who wants to fuck around on notice. Rhys Mathison and anyone else who's a Van Linsted crony. We're doing things differently now."

I laughed. "Mate, you are having too much fun with this."

He shrugged. "Yeah, you know, I'm kind of getting into this Director Prime thing."

Drew just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we see. But are you sure you want to pull the gloves off like this?"

"It's just a monthly meeting. It's not like I'm rolling in there and performing a coup. I'm already elected."

Even Bridge agreed with that. "He's right, mate. They wanted this. They wanted us to come in and make changes, to mix things up. They can hardly bitch about it if we actually do."

Drew sighed. "I just want us to be sure. Because if we walk in and start challenging them, we become targets. Plain and simple. I'm not sure any of us are ready for that."

Ben nodded. "Drew has a point. I'm Director Prime for the next ten years. But that doesn't mean I won't be making a few enemies."

Bridge snorted. "Like I give a fuck about making enemies."

Ben just laughed. "Mate, we will need friends."

Bridge gave him the kind of look that said he didn't give a fuck about making friends anywhere he went. And while he might not care, we needed to.

I sighed. "I've already run it. Every scenario. There will be those that are loyalists to Van Linsted and who want to keep things the same, but so many of them don’t feel that way. Ben, your vote was nearly unanimous. I think they'll get behind us. The question is predicting the Jamesons’ responses."

He winced. "Yeah, that I don't know."

"I do know. Garreth is likely to get violent. I suggest we post security at these points here." I pointed them out on our map. "And under our robes I suggest we all wear bulletproof vests. It really will be the safest outcome."

Drew's eyes grew wide. "A bulletproof vest? Oi? Are you serious?"

I nodded sagely. "Yeah. He's unpredictable. And given the cufflink that Nyla found, there’s a high likelihood he's involved in Ryder Stone’s murder. This is not the kind of situation where we can afford to underestimate our opponent. Plan for the worst. Sometimes we'll get lucky, but if we're not lucky, at least we're prepared."

Drew's low whistle told me he hadn't really considered the fact that what we were doing would be unwelcome. Maybe a part of him had just assumed that things would work out. And they probably would, but it was going to take some actual effort. An actual banding together, a plan, a strategy.

Bridge took the pointer. "Okay, so if we've got security here, how do you plan to do it?"

Ben grinned. "You know I've always loved theater."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Why does that not surprise me? Something tells me we're going to get some kind of ridiculous theatrical production."

My best mate waggled his brows. "It's not going to be ridiculous; it's going to be tasteful. But yes, a theatrical production."

I could only laugh. Drew looked mildly ill.

He hated confrontation, so for him this was going to be difficult. Bridge clasped a hand on his arm. "Mate, it needs to be done."

He nodded slowly. "I know. I'm not saying it doesn't need to be done, I'm just shitting myself because no one has ever done anything like this."

Ben grinned. "Since when do we give a fuck what anyone's ever done before?"

I glanced around at my mates. In a little over twenty-four hours, member number two, the one who had chosen to hear no evil, would be done. And we would be just that much closer to avenging Toby. It was so close I could taste it.

Ben smiled at me. "Yeah, almost two done."

We all stared at the map in front of us. When we were done with Jameson, the only one left to deal with would be Middleton. And we'd have finally gotten justice for our friend. Just the sheer enormity of that idea, that we'd very nearly pulled this off, made me smile. My only concern was if there would be repercussions. But now was not the time to think about that. In one more day, we were dealing with Garreth Jameson and his father, and there would be a new dawn of the Elite. And hopefully, everyone would be safe and standing when we were done.

* * *

Nyla

Later that afternoon, Amelia was shifting on her feet, hovering. She never hovered. I glanced up at her. "Okay, what gives? What's the matter?"

She sighed. "Okay, it's not that I don't want to give this news because I do, but I also feel shitty because I was actually going to use this geezer and try to get his sentence shortened."

"What's the matter?"

She sighed. "I talked to the crown prosecutor, Avery, about the human trafficking case. Thanks to Chantal Anderson’s statement and my old colleague from Scotland Yard,