Kathryn "Kat" Jensenâs new audit consulting job quickly becomes extremely dangerous. Investigating a notorious drug traffickerâs bank accounts can lead to life-threatening complications!
When Kat Jensen, an out-of-work internal auditor in New York City, joins Melville Consulting, a friendâs secretive investigative firm, she unravels the elaborate money-laundering scheme used by a notorious drug lord nicknamed El Rey, or The King. Based on her analysis, the banks freeze his accounts. Furious, El Rey storms their office, threatening to kill her boss. The drug czar gets arrested, but Kat is badly shaken and wants to quit. Except auditing jobs arenât easy to find after she took a year off to go on an unusual bucket-list voyage, and now she is broke. Memories of Katâs brother, who lost the battle against drug addiction, and the much-needed paycheck convince her to try again. But when Kat unexpectedly meets El Rey, her life in danger, since now he wants revenge.
PROJECT ONION features an unexpectedly resilient businesswoman who decides to fight back. This suspense novel blends in some crime, time travel, and romance with multiple twists and turns.
Kathryn "Kat" Jensenâs new audit consulting job quickly becomes extremely dangerous. Investigating a notorious drug traffickerâs bank accounts can lead to life-threatening complications!
When Kat Jensen, an out-of-work internal auditor in New York City, joins Melville Consulting, a friendâs secretive investigative firm, she unravels the elaborate money-laundering scheme used by a notorious drug lord nicknamed El Rey, or The King. Based on her analysis, the banks freeze his accounts. Furious, El Rey storms their office, threatening to kill her boss. The drug czar gets arrested, but Kat is badly shaken and wants to quit. Except auditing jobs arenât easy to find after she took a year off to go on an unusual bucket-list voyage, and now she is broke. Memories of Katâs brother, who lost the battle against drug addiction, and the much-needed paycheck convince her to try again. But when Kat unexpectedly meets El Rey, her life in danger, since now he wants revenge.
PROJECT ONION features an unexpectedly resilient businesswoman who decides to fight back. This suspense novel blends in some crime, time travel, and romance with multiple twists and turns.
âWhatâs so special about Fridays, and why do they make you feel so great?â I stared at the hazelnut coffee in my mug for an answer. This existential question was too early for my half-asleep brain to crack, so I sipped more caffeine.
Today was just another workday, but it was loaded with so much anticipation, especially with a three-day weekend ahead. Tonight I had dinner plans at a fancy restaurant with my boyfriend and his work buddies. I couldnât bear to jinx things by overthinking it.Â
My unwanted blues and nervousness, shadowing me for months, had faded some. This first week back to the old work grind had gone surprisingly well, and the early morning rush wasnât so bad.
I lifted my mug and made a silly toast to my big brother Keith. He smiled back from an old photo. âYouâd be so proud of your little sis. Vengeance shall be ours, eventually.â If only I could call to tell him my fantastic news.
My phone alarm sounded with John Lennonâs optimistic song âImagine,â reminding me to leave. I gulped the rest of my coffee, cringing at the gritty aftertaste of coffee grounds from my sloppy preparation. After I rinsed out my mug, I drank some of New York Cityâs tasty bargain-priced tap water.Â
Living alone inside my apartment, without even a pet, took getting used to. So sometimes, I chatted with Giuseppe, my gargoyle, perched on the kitchen shelf. âKeep an eye on the place while Iâm gone, buddy. And scare off any evil spirits.âÂ
Giuseppeâs stony eyes glared from a vigilant, crouched position with his mighty wings folded tightly against his chest. I sighed. Sure, Iâd rather stay home, but someone had to get a job and pay the bills. Or both of us would lose our high-cost perch.
Once I moved past the first month with this new job, I will spend more time with my old friends. I even planned to get a real live roommate that purrs.Â
Running late, I hustled down four flights of stairs inside my apartment building. I pressed against the buildingâs front door to exit when a woman said, âKat, wait up!âÂ
I froze, irritated at the delay, and whispered under my breath, âHellâs bells and buckets of blood.â I picked up that odd tiresome slang from a witty sailor on my seven-month voyage, and it wouldnât leave my memory bank.
Turning around, I saw Abby, my neighbor down the hall, who used to be my closest friend. Usually, I was happy to see her, but not now. âHey. Sorry, I'm in a hurry. New job and all.â
She grinned. âHeaded to the subway?â
âYeah.â I opened the door, prepared to say a quick goodbye outside.Â
Abby asked, âThe one at 66th and Broadway?âÂ
âYep.â Not being a morning person, I preferred to commute solo. Another less convenient subway line was next to the park on Central Park West. Except I would be late and ruin all my extra effort this week to make a winning first impression. We strolled toward Broadway.Â
Abby was one of those annoyingly cheerful and chatty morning types. âIâm riding that subway too. So Iâll walk with you. What a beautiful Friday to go to New Jersey. I hope this weather holds for a while.âÂ
The warm rays from the sun improved my mood. For the beginning of November, this was one of those unusually exquisite fall days. We were lucky Sunna, the Nordic Goddess of the Sun, still lingered here.
âWhy New Jersey?â
âLooking at an apartment. You get so much more for your money there.â
âBut Abby, you canât leave Manhattan.â And me, I wanted to add.Â
âNever hurts to look. Itâs so much more affordable.â Abby sounded stressed. âI hate to bring up terrible news. Did you hear about Nathan in 8B?âÂ
âNathan? Not sure I know him.â
âYou talked to him at the rooftop party before you left on your bucket-list cruise.â
Interrupted by a roar above our heads, we looked up to observe a noisy jet flying east toward the Hudson River. The planeâs destination was most likely Newark airport in New Jersey. Despite being more than eight thousand feet over Manhattan, planes still made me nervous. Even if they lost engine power at that altitude, commercial jets could glide for hundreds of miles.Â
Abby and I stopped briefly to watch the plane disappear from view. An invisible bond existed among New Yorkers who had experienced that fateful day almost twenty years ago.
Jackson Chow, my new boss who was a former CIA operative, shared some essential tips during my impromptu training yesterday. His message was bleak. âDonât count on Homeland Security or anyone else who investigates terrorists.â Overly cynical, but with his extensive industry contacts, heâd know.Â
I was tempted to share with Abby what Jackson told me. But this would only cause panic or invite unwanted questions about him and my job.Â
While we waited to cross busy Columbus Avenue, taxicabs, cars, and bikes flew by as if they were on an urgent mission to save the world. After a seven-month cruise from Copenhagen to Hong Kong and a trip to Texas and the West Coast, I was still adapting to my old life in nonstop Manhattan.Â
I refused to let irrational fear or worries consume me. Instead, I refocused on Abby and our mutual neighbor Nathan. âNow, I remember. The fortyish quiet guy who worked in publishing. What happened?â
âHe died.âÂ
âHe did? How?â
âHeard he committed suicide.âÂ
The word suicide hit home painfully. I stopped walking and touched Abbyâs shoulder. âOh, how terrible. Maybe it was an accident.â
âWell, if you call slitting your wrists and bleeding out in your bathtub an accident.â
âSuch a shame.â My stomach ached at what must be a suicide.
âTell me about it. Nathan lost his job about six months back. He told me he had to downsize and sell his apartment. Publishing sucks. No one reads anything longer than a 280-character tweet.â
âYeah, I know. So sad.â
Abby began walking again, and I followed her down the stairs into the subway station. My new position was tenuous, with my paycheck based on customer demand and what they agreed to pay. Approaching fifty and the ugly midpoint in life had made it more challenging to land a new job this time around. All this trying to please had pushed my stress level out to some undiscovered planet.Â
Abby and I passed through the turnstiles to wait for the next downtown train.Â
She took out a tissue, dabbed her eyes, and blew her nose. âNathan had some drug issues.â
âHe did?â I felt a sharp stabbing wound deep in my chest. The inescapable dependence on deadly narcotics claimed another victim, ruined a life, and devastated a family. âI think I told you my brother died years ago. Not suicide but an accidental overdose. The pain never disappears.â
Abby wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.
I would never forget the exact date and time my dad told me my brother Keith was lost forever from an overdose. My biggest regret was that I should have done more to prevent it.Â
 âNathanâs problems might have been solvable.â These final acts of giving in and giving up ignited something inside of me. I wanted to slap Nathan and Keith to toughen them up and face whatever problems they had. Unfortunately, life wasnât all smiles and way-to-go moments.Â
âHey, Iâm with you. Itâs the damn drug dealers. I wish someone would lock them up forever.âÂ
I nodded, thinking about how important my work was this week.
Abby stared at me. âSince you got home from your long voyage, youâve been so different. All closed up and a loner. I miss the old Kat.â
I unbuttoned my jacket and peeked at my shirt. After a silly Kat Jensen physical inspection, I tried to prove I was still the same. âYep, sheâs still all here.âÂ
 I forced a laugh, but Abby didnât smile. âSorry, Abby. I know you havenât seen me much recently. Settling back in has been hard. The job search took over my life. Soon things will be like before. Please donât move to New Jersey.â
Nathanâs suicide troubled me. I had been forced to shut down my struggling consulting business a year ago. My nest egg had shrunk from paying bills while I was unemployed for a year. I had faced plenty of despair but never considered suicide.Â
An incoming subway screeched to a stop, and we lined up with the crowd. The rush-hour train was packed, so we squeezed into the car's narrow aisle between the filled seats.Â
Today, in memory of poor Nathan, I would try harder to adapt to their unique work culture. Working for a small investigative company run by a former spy, with a lawyer and an ex-NYPD detective as colleagues, was unusual.Â
I was accustomed to working with Wall Street traders and businesspeople at global banks and big-name companies. All boasted about their services with costly marketing and publicity support teams. My new firm, Melville Consulting, intentionally stayed off the grid, and client projects had secretive names.
âHowâs the new job?â Abby paused, eager for details I couldn't give.Â
I was under a strict nondisclosure agreement and had a paranoid boss. To not let anything slip, I had decided to say virtually nothing about my job. But Abby was my closest friend and trustworthy, so I could share some vague details. âSo far, okay. My first week and getting used to the old grind.â
âWhat do you do exactly?â Abby asked.
âAbout the same as before. Internal auditing is similar to what an investigative journalist does. Digging in, finding issues, and reporting them with suggestions to fix them. So, my job usually covers a wide range of different projects. This week was more forensic accounting. I analyzed financial records and crunched numbers.âÂ
The clientâs name on my first assignment was strictly off-limits. The pre-assigned codename âProject Onionâ told me nothing. Even if I figured it out, I had signed those pesky nondisclosure documents, promising not to breathe a word.
âSounds pretty dull.â Abbyâs opinion was not uncommon.
âCan be. Like anything else.âÂ
Except this week was more like a game called follow the drug money. I had traced the flow of dollars and foreign currencies from one account to another as if solving a complicated numerical jigsaw puzzle. My in-depth analysis, propelled by my twenty years of auditing, delved deep into the logistics of money movement.
She smiled. âIâm glad you found something. You seemed so stressed out.â
âYeah, it was incredibly hard this time around. Getting older and better at your job didnât help.âÂ
My hard-earned nest egg was gone, so I was desperate to find a job to avoid downsizing and moving. Jacksonâs enthusiastic job offer was a welcome ego boost. Iâd spent weeks waiting around and hearing so many prospective employers turn me down.Â
I sighed. âOne week down with another twenty years to go.â Please let this job last at least two years. The job interviews and being scrutinized from head to toe in an uncomfortable business suit were awful.
âYou and me both.â Abby grinned, understanding what I meant.Â
To afford pricey New York City, single women without a ton of money often had to work until they dropped dead or got tossed out.Â
She looked wistful. âAt least weâre getting together Tuesday. Donât forget our girlsâ night out with Darlene. Youâve already canceled twice.â
âIâll be there. Even if something happens, Iâll hobble in with a broken leg.âÂ
âOh, Kat. Please donât break anything. Just show up for once.âÂ
âI will. I promise.âÂ
The doors opened for her stop at 42nd Street and Times Square. We exchanged a quick hug goodbye.Â
She whispered, âBe careful,â and disappeared into the mass exodus.Â
I pushed my way back inside the crowded subway car. Abbyâs parting comment was weird and unlike her. At first, I assumed this referred to my lame joke about breaking my leg. However, I must always be prepared. Anything could happen at any time.
Inside the heated car, I loosened my cashmere scarf and noticed a small hole. âDarn moths,â I said to the invisible, hungry critters. Buying anything new and nonessential had to wait.Â
At last, the subway pulled into my stop, Christopher Street, in the historic, hip West Village. I gathered up my belongings and some determination for day five at Melville Consulting.Â
Jackson, the founder of the company, was a fan of the author Herman Melville. He even used Ahab, the name of the shipâs captain in Moby-Dick, as the code word to enter the officeâs front door.
To anyone who might be spying on me inside the half-empty station, I warned, âMoby Dick, here I come.
You are the captain of your own ship. It's your life, and we may only have this one. Stand tall.
This is advice that a friend of the protagonist of this novel (named Kat Jensen) gives her when she is hesitant about going to work undercover as a drug dealer's money person/auditor/accountant in order to take him down. The story is full of interesting scenarios like this. It has an undercover team of private investigators, time travel, a shootout, misadventures on a yacht, a kidnapping... It is a lot to take in, but the writer manages that well for the most part.
The writing is good in some parts, especially in terms of dialogue. The dialogue in this book feels natural and unforced. It is exactly how you would imagine people in a particular situation would talk about whatever they are talking about. This is the strongest aspect of the book for me.
The book incorporates a lot of things into one story, along with some social commentary. Apart from everything mentioned above, the book tries to touch on everything from drug abuse/addiction to animal rights to trans rights and many things in between. It works for some of these themes.
For instance, the time travel part was well used, driving some of the major conflicts in Kat's life. The theme of drug abuse was well handled too. The book showed the emotional toll drug addiction can have on not just addicts but people close to them, and it generally handled this subject with great nuance and great heart.
These positives were great, but it was hard to ignore some issues, majorly the fact that the author tried to touch on a lot of themes and tropes but not all were given the depth they deserved. There are a lot of social issues that should be talked about in our current world, but it felt as though the author tried to talk about them all and just couldn't. Some of them were well handled, but some felt like they were picked up and dropped halfway, with the author explaining them away with what felt like preachy exposition put into dialogue.
However, these conversations need to be had, and anyway they are brought up can help.
Also, because it felt like the author tried to jam too many things in one novel, the ending was not quite satisfactory. Of course, endings do not have to be all wrapped up in a box with a nice little bow on it (I love open-ended endings more, in fact), but the story's ending did not feel like one. It felt more like the story had just started picking up and we were going into the meat of the main conflict. The end felt rushed and abrupt, and except there is a sequel coming that continues this story, that ending does not do the story justice.
All in all, the book was great to read in many parts. A good one to add to your shelves.