The Seventeen

By Joel Arcanjo

Technology billionaire Lex Archer accuses an employee of industrial espionage. Rash things are said in the heat of the moment. When she turns up dead and his alibi falls apart, he becomes the number one suspect.

With the evidence piling up Lex calls former University love Bella to fight his corner . Bella`s law practice is floundering. A high profile case would bring her publicity, cash and survival. She jumps at the chance. Little does she know it could be the death of her.The Seventeen are watching. A powerful, dangerous cabal of New York's elite led by the anonymous Zero. They stopped at nothing to make their fortunes. They'll stop at nothing to keep them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins UK
• Release date: Apr 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781472096302

Book preview

Prologue

Abigail Vaughan, corporate spy. She loved how that sounded. Abigail Vaughan, about to become the most talked about name in New York. The perpetrator of one of the greatest thefts in history. Not money. Not jewels. Not gold. The most powerful force in the world.

Information.

It was just a shame that she wasn’t really Abigail Vaughan.

Her employers had created the identity in order for her to gain access to her current company, ArchiTech, the undisputed champions of modern technology. Not for long though. The information she possessed would sink them once it was in the hands of her real employers.

She had risked a lot accepting this task. More accurately, Abigail Vaughan had risked a lot. Amanda Jones, on the other hand, had risked very little. Even her employers didn’t know her real name. They knew her only as AJ. They did not even know her true appearance. Abigail was blonde with blue eyes. Amanda was brunette with green eyes. Abigail had a higher-pitched but charming southern drawl. Amanda’s was low and entirely unremarkable. They were different in almost all aspects of their lives.

Amanda Jones would never be linked to Abigail Vaughan. But at least she would know what she had done. Not being able to boast about it only made it all the more special. It had taken her months to become this different person. It always did. She had to create a complex back story and then embody that tale to perfection because if she didn’t believe it, no-one else would. But after today no-one would ever be able to find Abigail Vaughan. She would not exist.

She sat at her desk waiting for five o’clock, her eyes shooting uncontrollably to the clock. She had the information and needed to get out of there. Her employers paid her half up front, half when the job was done. Morals did not come into it. It was all about who could write the most zeros on a check. She was a chameleon for hire and she loved it - except at that moment. Lunch had passed but five o’clock was a long way away. Leaving now would just be suspicious.

Then came the sound she least wanted to hear.

Miss Vaughan. Stand up.

She rose slowly. She knew who it was. A clear English accent. Only ten people in the New York branch of ArchiTech were English and this one just happened to be the one person she did not wish to see.

Miss Vaughan, where are the files?

She froze, her back still to him. Her heartbeat quickened, but she had been in situations like this before. There was only one thing to do. Deny. Deny. Deny.

What files. Mr Archer?

Look at me, Miss Vaughan. His voice was stern.

She swung round to meet his gaze, her face now a picture of innocence.

Where are the files, Miss Vaughan? he repeated.

I have no idea what you mean, Mr Archer.

Are we really going to do this? It would be easier for both of us if you just turned them over right now. That information is useless without our technology.

What information? Can we start from the—

Look. The information was downloaded onto a portable hard drive by our Chief Analyst an hour ago.

She maintained her composure. So... what’s that got to do with me?

Our Chief Analyst is your boyfriend! The office went quiet. How long have you been working for us, Miss Vaughan?

Three months.

And how long have you been dating our Chief Analyst?

Three months. But I can explain—

No point. He rolled on you straight away. Clearly you aren’t as good as you think. He was looking for a reaction but she didn’t give him one.

He says you were very persuasive when asking him to download the information.

She said nothing.

So what was the plan, sell the information to a rival? I hope not, because they would be very disappointed with you. You see, that information is protected by an encryption system I designed myself. There are probably three people in the world that can break it and I promise you, none will touch this. So hand it over and we will not press charges.

She was busted. She knew it, but it really didn’t matter. Her job was to get the information to her employer. No more. No less.

You’ve got the wrong person, Mr Archer. I’m a temp, I don’t know anything about this information you’re talking about.

A smile broke out across his face. You’re pretty good Miss Vaughan. If that is even your name. But this is your last chance. Where is it?

She knew she had to go now, before he called the police.

As it’s clear I can no longer work here, I don’t have to stand here and take this. Goodbye, Mr Archer.

She grabbed her coat and handbag and began to walk out. But as she passed Lex Archer, he grabbed her arm. Miss Vaughan, if this information gets out you’re dead. Do you understand that?

She wrestled her arm free and got out of the building as fast as she could. It was done. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Three hours later. Abigail Vaughan. Amanda Jones. The chameleon. All three were dead.

Chapter 1

You know who this guy is don’t you? Chief Palmer asked.

I’ve heard of him. Another money hungry suit, right? Max Boyd replied.

Not just any suit. This guy is powerful. He has connections or, rather, his father has. This is the kind of case that can make or break careers, Boyd. Yours and mine. You got that?

Yeah. I got it.

Make it quick and clean. In and out. We don’t want press waiting outside on this one. This guy is well liked in this city. We want to minimize the media backlash or at least postpone it.

Anything else? Boyd asked.

Yeah. Get your heavy gear on. Chances are there won’t be any problem, but these guys supply advanced weaponry to the military so who knows what they are capable of.

Seriously? You think they’ll have people waiting for us? Boyd’s tone showed his slight apprehension, but not fear. Never fear.

A 1% chance maybe that he’s heard that we are on to him and won’t go down without a fight. But 1% is enough when lives are at stake.

Boyd nodded. He knew the Chief was right. Gearing up was a direct order, so he followed it.

****

Thirty minutes later they were in the back of an unmarked black NYPD van outside the location. There were five guys in his team. Boyd had been relaxed but now the adrenaline was coursing through his veins. This was a powerful family. If they were wrong it could end his career.

The others sat in silence, breathing hard and staring at their feet. Boyd was the only one with his head up, thinking and planning. He was the veteran. They looked to him as leader. This wasn’t a drug bust. It wasn’t some rickety shack out in the middle of nowhere. This was the centre of New York City in full view of everyone. Not an ideal scenario.

OK. Everyone know their roles? Boyd finally said after another few seconds of nervous silence passed.

Everyone answered but no-one spoke. They just nodded. He could tell that each man was going through his own tried and tested routine. They were psyching themselves up. He hadn’t told them that it was just a 1% chance that they would meet armed resistance. Better for them to think that it was a high probability. That way they would be hyper-vigilant and fully prepared. They would thank him later.

Let’s go. You two up front. You two with me.

The moment they exited the van every eye in the street fell on them. But that didn’t disturb Boyd. He was used to it. He actually looked less intimidating with the gear on. He would’ve made a useless spy. Far too big.

They sprang out of the van and ate up the twenty yards of sidewalk between the vehicle and the entrance in a flash.

As they approached the huge glass doors automatically swung open and they entered running. Inside was a giant lobby, huge marble pillars marking the pathway. On the far side was Security and past that, the elevator they needed. It was clear that Security had not been briefed about their visit. There were just two men at the desk. Both jumped to their feet and threw their hands in the air the moment they saw Boyd and his armed colleagues coming at them.

Let us through. Now! Boyd barked.

The nearest guy swiped his card and quickly shuffled out of their way. Some security, Boyd thought.

You, stay here with them. Make sure they don’t get brave, he said, pointing to one of his men. He dropped back. Now there were four.

They reached the elevator and piled in, breathing hard. Not because they had run far or fast, but when you are faced with a potentially dangerous situation, sometimes you forget to breathe. All four of them fit, barely. They were squashed together and, to make matters worse, the elevator music started. Repetitive droning of a guy that had never quite hit the heights he had hoped for, but was elevator famous. Seventeen floors to go and no-one said a word the whole ride. It was probably best that way.

The gentle ping of the elevator reaching their stop kicked them into high gear again. They flew out the elevator and turned the corner. What they found wasn’t a wall of armed security waiting for them. It was a man, sitting at his desk, tapping away on his computer.

This was why they were here. He was their murder suspect.

Chapter 2

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense, Boyd finished. A perfect rendition. It had to be, he couldn’t let this joker off on a technicality in court.

This was a big fish. His name was Lex Archer, son of billionaire tech mogul Theodore Archer. A huge catch for the NYPD. Archer owned ArchiTech. A company that was so successful that he had built his own tower on West 57th Street. Archer had named it Tech Tower. It couldn’t match the 58 storeys of Trump tower but, at 45, it was impressive to say the least.

Archer’s son was very different to his father. Boyd only had to look at him to see that. He was eccentric, charismatic and lived for the finer things in life. Theodore Archer was a stiff suit who only cared about furthering his company. He annihilated people who got in his way. His motto was famous across the US: If people don’t like you, you’re doing something right.

Idiot, Boyd thought. But it was difficult to argue with his results.

Boyd grabbed the kid and led him out of the 17th floor office, every employee gawking at the boss being dragged away by a four man team of fully geared up police officers.

The kid didn’t even blink. He kept his head dead straight, maintaining his composure all the way down in the elevator. Boyd kept glancing back at him. It wasn’t how he expected a murderer to react. No. The sense of calm was unnerving.

Hey kid, knock it off.

He said nothing.

Boyd wasn’t even sure what he wanted the kid to stop, but whatever it was, it made Boyd uncomfortable. Boyd hated to feel uncomfortable, but he had to let it go. This self-adoring suit would get what was coming to him. The rich and powerful often forgot they were bound by the same laws as mere mortals. They were soon reminded of that the moment they stepped into federal prison. He wanted to be there to see this wise guy heading for the metal gates. Lex Archer wouldn’t be so sure of himself then.

Boyd dragged the kid out of the elevator by his left arm. The fibers of his suit were probably worth more than Boyd’s house and all of its contents. A sickening thought and one which made him tighten his grip further. Boyd was a big guy. It must have felt like a small anaconda attempting to squeeze the life out of his bicep. His captive didn’t even grimace. The kid wasn’t small himself. Boyd put his height at about 6’1 and noticed he was well put together. A college football player or wrestler maybe. Slender but quite powerful looking.

Boyd marched Archer across the atrium. The whole lobby ground to a halt the moment Archer. was spotted exiting the elevator. Boyd heard a collective gasp followed by hushed whispers. He paid no attention and kept walking. It must have been a bizarre sight, police officers in full raid uniform parading a calm billionaire through a silent lobby that probably contained hundreds of pointing onlookers. Boyd signaled to the officer waiting with security. He fell in behind.

They reached the large glass doors, funneling through two at a time, Boyd still clutching the kid’s arm tight. He thought he saw a slight grimace of pain as they lumbered down the white marble stairs, but it quickly disappeared. He glanced left and right, checking the street for anyone eyeing the kid. It was the middle of the day and the street was bathed in sunlight. But it seemed that no-one on the street could care less about what was happening. New York commuters just trying to get from A to B as fast as possible.

He dragged Archer to the back of the waiting van, opened the door, and stuffed him inside, taking little care he didn’t hit his head. Unfortunately for Boyd, Archer ducked low avoiding a nasty bang. Boyd jumped into the back after him. They sat side by side, saying nothing all the way back to Police Plaza.

The kid had lost his confident smile and was staring blankly out of the window at the blur of color whizzing past. He had a look of naivety and innocence about him. Hard to imagine he had killed someone in cold blood. But from experience Boyd knew looks could be deceiving, and they usually were.

They reached the HQ at quarter past two. Boyd swung the van doors open and jumped out the back. He got one of the other men to lift Archer up and move him to the rear. He grabbed Archer’s arm and dragged him out. They took a moment to congregate before marching Archer straight to the nearest interrogation room. Rooms one through six were occupied but seven was empty. Boyd opened the door and led Archer in. The moment the door closed he took off Archer’s handcuffs and threw him into the chair on the far side of the room. Archer fell into it with a painful thud. The kid objected to this and instinctively jumped to