Chapter 11: Due Diligence

"Halberd Capital," Imogen said, and set both bottles on the counter. "Six partners, and Trent's pitching them on Friday at a steakhouse in the Loop."

She told it fast, with her coat still on.

"How do you know?" Elsie asked.

"A friend of a friend does their catering. I asked around the second I saw the video."

Darius had stayed standing by the window.

"Where did you hear their name first?" he asked.

Imogen turned and gave him a bright, direct look.

"From the caterer. I told you. Is that a problem, Mr. Ames?"

"No," Darius said. "It's useful."

He took his coat from the chair and nodded at Elsie from the door.

"Friday," he said, and left.

Imogen watched the door close.

"He's very intense," she said.

"He's helping."

"Mm." She smiled, and uncorked the wine. "Just be careful, love. Men who turn up when you're down want something."

On Friday night Elsie sat in the back of Darius's car outside the restaurant with a cold fear in her stomach.

"I'm not going to make a speech this time," she said.

"Good."

"I'm going to ask them questions."

"What questions?"

"The ones I'd ask if I were about to give him money."

The private room had a long table, six investors in dark suits and Trent at the head of it with a slide on the wall behind him.

He saw her in the doorway, and he stopped talking.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said. "Mr. Rafferty asked me to join you. He didn't tell you?"

"Elsie," Trent said, through his teeth.

"I'll only take a minute."

She walked to the empty chair near the foot of the table and sat, and Darius took the wall beside her and said nothing.

An older woman at the table, silver-haired in a charcoal blazer, folded her hands.

"I know your face," she said. "From the video."

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