Chapter 37

Phil felt himself flushing, working its way up from his toes, through his torso, to the top of his head. He broke out in a sweat.

“What?” he said.

Portnoy coughed into his fist again. “It was Beckett. He was trading on your good name. They’ve spent the last few months trying to track the money, but it’s almost impossible. It looks like…” he was blushing furiously now, too, “…it looks like he was…”

“Spit it out, man!” Phil snapped, standing up, abruptly.

“It looks as if he was, er, targeting, men who could give him inside information. That he could then trade on.”

Phil sat down again suddenly, knees suddenly wobbly.

“What?” He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Targeting?”

“Er. Yes.” Portnoy wouldn’t meet his eye. “You know. Er. Getting close to.” He coughed again. “Befriending.”

“Fucking?” Phil clarified.

Portnoy was so embarrassed his face was almost purple. “Fine, yes, damn youFucking.”

Phil’s hands were shaking.