Toward the back of the stack, she found a listing for a sprawling residential property in Ojai, a city in Ventura County, north of Los Angeles. Known for its hills and mountains, it was a popular destination for tourists who were into hiking, spiritual retreats, and buying the best organic produce grown by local farmers, no big boxes or chain stores allowed. The pictures of the house made the place seem more like a fortress than a home, but what made it interesting, beyond its eight-figure price tag, was what Anton had written along the bottom of a sheet, in blue ink: “Chauncey Harrington, 72, 87.6 mil, paper.”

The sheet contained no other writing.

Ellie replaced the backpack exactly where she had found it. She glanced up and saw Paul standing outside again. He had traded his eyeglasses for a pair of sunglasses with dark green rectangular lenses—a style she associated with military and special-ops guys. He stood with his hands in his pants pockets, looking in her direction, smiling.

CHAPTER 23

THIS GUY YOU saw, Paul,” Roland said. “You’re sure he’s the Brentwood shooter?”

Ellie nodded. She had just finished telling him about Anton’s meeting with Sebastian Kane’s stepson-but-not-legally, Paul Young.

“No question in my mind,” she said.

“And you’re sure he didn’t recognize you.”

“Am I one hundred percent positive? No. But I don’t think he did. If he did, he would have told Anton, and I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you, would I?”

“Tell me about the ride home with Anton,” Roland said.

“There wasn’t much talking. For a good half of the ride, Anton was quiet—told me he wanted some time to think, process everything.”

“So, Anton’s in business with Paul now.”

“Maybe,” Ellie corrected. “Anton hasn’t committed to anything yet. It’s only recently that Paul started reaching out to Anton through a series of dead drops.”

“How twentieth century of him.”

“Paper is much safer than technology. I don’t know the specific locations of these dead drops, how often they communicate, but suffice it to say the sum of these conversations amounted to Paul saying that Frank and Sebastian would be handing over their business. Today’s meeting—”

“Back up,” Roland said. “You said ‘handing over.’”

“Those were Paul’s exact words, so, yes, Frank and Sebastian are going to be handing over their business to Paul. Today’s meeting—and this was the first time Anton and Paul met—was about this.” Ellie reached inside her dress pocket and came back with a small baggie, the kind dealers used to sell drugs. It contained two capsules filled with a dark red liquid.

“According to Anton,” Ellie said, handing the bag to Roland, “this is what’s going to put Pandora out of business.”

Roland’s eyebrows rose. “Pandora,” he said. “Anton used that word?”

Ellie nodded. “Frank and Sebastian are the ones behind Pandora.”

Roland’s eyes turned electric with excitement. This was the first time the elusive Pandora had been mentioned.

“Well, hot diggity dog,” he said, and held the baggie up to the light.