Page 191 of Bad Attitude
Time to do this if you’re going to, Declan.
I still hesitate for longer than I’m proud of. Then I clear my throat. “That depends quite a lot on you, Kurt. What’s the box for?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
A pause. “Won’t.”
“Fine. Then let’s play a little guessing game, shall we?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“This is a hardware wallet. A whole bunch of crypto keys held within. You and I both know it’s absolutely worthless. Whoever owns it can just make another with the seed phrase. So why do you want it?”
He still doesn’t say anything. The line’s so quiet I have to check the signal bars on my phone.
“Renner?” I prompt. “How about I just throw it out the window on the 101? You go make another, and we’ll talk about the dia—”
“It’s not worthless,” he grinds out.
“Really?”No shit.“Do tell.”
There’s silence for far too long, and I get impatient.
“Renner, I’m hanging up now. If I haven’t heard from you in ten minutes, this box is gone. When youcall me back—”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, but that’s okay. There’s still time to win him back when he hears what I have in mind.
“I’m listening.”
“The wallet was stolen from the… from a man who also happened to be the only one who knew the seed. He’s dead.”
That explains a lot. “So this box is literally the only way of getting access to whatever crypto is sitting behind it.”
“Exactly. Keep it safe, huh?”
“Sure. Let me just wind my window back up.” The curse down the line is surprisingly gratifying, and I grin to myself. “Back to my original question. What are you going to do with it?”
“Return it to its rightful owners.”
Not the answer I expected. “How very altruistic. How are you going to do that when you just told me he’s dead?”
“Owners.” Renner emphasizes the plural. “Not that altruistic; I’m getting paid, of course.”
“Of course.” But a payday I don’t care about. That’s measured in low-millions. Not the kind of money that finances revolutions or alters politics. “I’m guessing the owners aren’t the Chinese. Who are they?”
And as soon as I put those two questions together, the answer hits me like a semi-truck.
A man killed. A Chinese operation. An intermediary on US soil, holding it. MSS connections.
“Shit,” I breathe. “It’s the government, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Renner grudgingly admits.
It all falls into place. He’s working for them. That’s why he never accusedmeof being FBI after he was picked up; he was expecting interference. The only question was which agency.
“Why didn’t Meridian Pacific ship it out?” I ask. That’s the one piece I don’t get.
