Secretive (10 page)

“I’m glad you got it, despite the unreliable courier.”

He smiled in a way that made it hard for her to break their gaze. She cleared her throat and looked at the tablecloth as she steered the conversation to Costa. “How could you go after Costa? No one knows where he is.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have done your homework, I see.” The waiter circled by. Jack waved him off then leaned forward. “When someone like Costa vanishes, there are always rumors. I’ve been running them down.”

“But he’s been ‘sighted’ all over the world—everywhere from Hong Kong to Argentina. And the whole exercise could be a wild goose chase. It could be someone completely different who wanted you in Venice.”

“True, but I figured that I should start with Costa. He’s been connected to this from the beginning.”

“But why didn’t you just come home? Come forward and tell the FBI what happened?”

“Somehow I didn’t think I’d be welcomed with open arms. I found out the GRS money had been replaced, but I had no proof that I hadn’t taken it in the first place. Then there was the small detail of how I would get there. Showing up with a fake passport would get everything started off on the wrong foot, don’t you think? And, finally, there was the whole incident in Italy—why are you smiling?”

“Because that’s how I think of it, too—the Italy Incident. I do see your quandary. I’m sure the Italian police would certainly be reluctant to let you go, if you came forward...”

“Any police force in Europe, actually. And, if I surfaced and went to the police, then there was the possibility that the person who arranged for me to be transferred out of police custody would do it again.”

“So you went to Hong Kong and Argentina?”

“No, never made it to Hong Kong,” Jack said, and Zoe could have sworn there was a wistful tinge to his voice. “I did check out the Argentina possibility. Nothing there. It was in South Africa this summer that I hit pay dirt.”

“You found him?”

“Yes.” There was a small smile of satisfaction on his face. “I’ve been following him since then, and now I’ve got what I need to prove he’s involved in some fairly significant crimes.”

“Cyber crimes?” Zoe said.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to spoil all my surprises?”

“Just a lucky guess on my part. Go on.”

Jack pulled a narrow computer flash drive out of the pocket of his wool coat. “I’ve got a sampling of what Costa has been up to on this. It should be enough to interest the FBI.”

“Does it prove you didn’t take the money? Or, better yet, does it prove
I
didn’t take the money?”

Jack sighed. “Unfortunately, no, but it should be enough to turn their attention from me to Costa.”

“So you’re hoping for what?”

“A trade.” Jack carefully put the flash drive in his coat pocket. “The rest of the information on Costa in exchange for any charges against me—or us, if they’re trying to loop you into this, too—dropped regarding the GRS debacle.”

Zoe thought of Sato’s intense questions. “I don’t know if those FBI guys will go for that. You’d better have some amazing stuff on there.” Zoe’s phone buzzed. “I have to take this. It’s about the money.”

Dave Bent didn’t bother answering Zoe’s greeting. “Can you be in my office in half an hour? I need to talk to you.”

“You’ve found something?”

“Yes.”

"I can be there.” Zoe had no idea if it was even possible to make it from the British Museum to Bent’s office in that amount of time, but she wasn’t about to tell him she’d wait until tomorrow.

She grabbed her messenger bag. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”

“Where?” Jack asked, but he was already standing, throwing money on the table to cover their drinks.

“To see a cyber crime expert.”

––––––––

“Y
OU gave all the GRS information—the account numbers, my details,
everything
—to some stranger?” Jack asked, his voice slightly muffled from the thick scarf that he’d wrapped around his neck as they left the museum. It covered his lower face and he’d settled a black newsboy cap low over his forehead.

“No. I gave them to a well-respected expert in criminal cyber activity,” Zoe said, waving her arm wildly in an effort to flag down one of the little black taxis outside the museum. “What’s going on with that get-up? It’s not that cold.”

“Keeping a low profile. London is practically the surveillance camera capital of the world.” Jack tilted his head toward a nearby building. Zoe squinted and saw three cameras mounted on the corner, their lenses aimed at the intersection.

“So, this expert. What does he do?” Jack asked.

“He’s a police consultant.” Two taxis whizzed by, their headlights cutting through the growing dusk. She waved more frantically. She wasn’t sure how long Bent would wait at his office. It was already past normal office hours.

“The very people I’m trying to avoid.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Zoe said, as a taxi stopped just short of them and picked up another couple. “The GRS money is missing.”

“No, it was replaced. Banking error.”

“It’s missing again.” As the words sunk in, he closed his eyes briefly. Zoe continued, “I had a visit from the FBI just days ago. They asked if I’d hidden the money in some offshore account. I had to do
something
. I know nothing about high finance and bank transfers. It seemed a good time to contact an expert, especially since this expert happened to be in the same city that your package was sent from.”

Jack nodded, stepped to the curb, and raised his arm. A taxi swung out of the traffic and stopped at his side. “Show off,” Zoe said as he held the door for her. She gave the address to the driver, and they were off in the mess of stop and go late-evening traffic.

Zoe threw herself back against the seat. “Nico gave me the email address of another cyber guru, of sorts.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Of sorts?”

“Apparently, Ares operates on the shady side of things.”

“Just what I’d expect from Nico. You contacted this Ares character as well?”

“Yes,” Zoe said, a trace of defiance in her tone at his frown. “I’m not sitting around waiting anymore. I tried that and look where it got me. I’m in the middle of an FBI investigation—again.”

Jack rubbed his hand over his brow. “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get in touch with you sooner. I’m doing my best to get this straightened out. I understand you’re frustrated. I am too, but we have to be careful. Do you realize how much ammunition you gave this expert and this Ares guy?” Zoe could see the taxi driver’s eyes in the mirror. He was watching them more than he was watching the road.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know you’d show up today. I didn’t know about your one-person international quest to bring Costa to justice. I didn’t even know for sure if you were still alive.” The driver’s eyes widened.

Jack noticed the driver’s interest and lowered his voice. “I kept my distance to protect you.”

Zoe blew out a sigh and watched the lights flick by the window. “I know. But it didn’t work very well. Someone tried to pull me off the street into a van while I was jogging.” The driver leaned back an inch.

Jack had been glancing out the back window, but now he turned and focused all his attention on her. “What happened?”

“There were two guys in a van. The driver, who had a unibrow and a shaved head, blocked my path while another guy came out of the sliding side door. He was stocky and dark. Hey—” Zoe pointed out the front window at the red brake lights they were flying toward. “Watch out!”

The taxi jerked to a stop, throwing them forward.

“This is close enough,” Zoe said.

Jack paid for the taxi distractedly, his attention still on Zoe. The driver sent her a scowl before he pulled away. Jack joined her on the sidewalk, and she continued, “Anyway, once the second guy jumped out—well, that’s all it took. I ran for it. I went through that easement in the cul-de-sac.”

They paused on the street in front of the building with Bent’s office. “That’s not good,” Jack said flatly. His gaze swept the street again. “You’re sure it wasn’t a random thing?”

“I’m sure. The driver definitely checked my face before the other guy jumped out. And, there were two of them. It was planned. It was a quiet time with no one else on the street.”

He cursed under his breath.

“I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.” Zoe turned to the door.

Jack caught her arm and pulled her back. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “So glad,” he repeated, staring at her intently. I never thought someone would target you.” Zoe couldn’t look away from his intense silvery blue gaze. “If they’d managed...” His voice trailed off, and her irritation at him receded.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t go there. Not now. We have to stay focused. Someone targeted you, which means that either Costa decided to go after you, or...someone else is involved.”

His words snapped her out of the warm fuzzy feeling that had been creeping over her. “Why would Costa go after me?”

“To get to me.”

“But you’re dead. At least, they think you’re dead.”

“Maybe he knows I’m not.”

Zoe stared at him a moment. “Oh, that’s bad.”

“Yeah. If he knows I’m not dead, does he know I’ve been tracking him? Maybe that’s why he went after you.”

Zoe licked her lips. She didn’t want to be in anyone’s crosshairs. “Have you seen anyone who looked like the two guys I described working for Costa?”

“No, but just because I haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they don’t work for him.”

“But what if they’re not associated with Costa?”

“That’s worse. That would mean there’s a new player, and we have no idea who it is.”

She shivered and drew the lapels of her coat up to her neck as she glanced around.

The fear must have registered on her face. Jack said, “I doubt they’re going to drive up right now. No one was following you in the museum today. I checked.”

Zoe appreciated his attempt to make her feel better, but it didn’t help. “We don’t need a
new
unknown. We’ve barely got a handle on the old unknowns.”

“True,” Jack said. “But whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. You didn’t even know you were in danger, and you handled it. You got away.”

“Only because I’m such a good sprinter,” Zoe said, grudgingly.

Jack looped her hand through the crook of his arm. “You could always beat me during that last ten yards.”

Zoe steered them toward Bent’s building. “Add a dose of adrenaline and there was no way he was going to catch me.”

“Did you go directly home?”

“And be a sitting duck? No, I took a slight detour and made sure they weren’t headed to the house, then I left town. That night.”

Jack smiled at her. “You always did have good instincts.”

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Mostly. You threw me off. I completely believed your boring government employee backstory.”

“Confidentiality agreement. We’ve been over this before.” He pulled off the scarf and held the door to the building open. “You know everything now.”

“So you say.” Zoe stopped even with him in the doorway. “Yet, less than an hour ago you told me you had a secret bank account in Geneva. Are you sure I know
everything
?” The top button of his coat was open, and she was so close to him she noticed the subtle movement of the knot of his tie as it rose and fell with each breath.

“That was it. My last deep, dark secret. You’re completely read in on everything. That means you’re up-to-date on everything about my situation.”

His tie was wrinkled, and she had an almost irresistible urge to smooth it. She fisted her hand, and shoved it into her pocket as she scooted through the entry. “I read spy thrillers. I know the jargon. Okay. So we’re going with openness now. Let’s keep it that way. None of that ‘need to know’ nonsense. See, I can do the espionage speak, too.”

“Suits me. Which one?” Jack asked, looking at the doors.

“This one.” Zoe led the way into the office. “Mr. Bent?” she called as they stepped inside where the faint scent of something rancid filtered through the air. The receptionist desk was empty and the lights were off, but a desk lamp glowed from the interior office, illumining a pile of papers, a steaming teacup beside the desktop computer, a laptop, and the empty rolling chair behind the desk.

“Mr. Bent?” Zoe called again, edging into the office. The smell intensified as soon as she crossed the threshold. As a property manager she’d run across quite a few gross sights and smells, but this one brought back memories of kindergarten and Brice Yardley throwing up all over the carpet during circle time.

Zoe swallowed hard and put a hand to her nose. “Are you okay, Mr. Bent?” Because of the lack of lighting and the spotlight effect of the desk lamp it took her eyes a moment to adjust. “He must still be around here since the office is open. Maybe there’s a restroom in the main part of the building?” Zoe said, returning to the receptionist area.

Jack didn’t say anything. He rounded the end of the desk with his gaze focused on the floor. Zoe followed, and as soon as she stepped to the side, she saw two sneaker-clad feet.

“Is this Bent?” Jack asked.

The lamp’s glow illuminated the pudgy face and the goatee as well as the edge of a puddle under the desk where he’d been sick. His circular glasses hung lopsided from one ear. Zoe’s hand went to her mouth. “Yes, that’s him. What’s wrong?” she asked through her fingers. “Do you think he had a seizure or something?”

“No.” Jack touched a hand to Bent’s neck, then stood. “He’s dead.”

They looked at each other for a second. There were so many thoughts running through Zoe’s head that she couldn’t form a single coherent phrase for a moment. Finally, she said, “What happened? He sounded fine on the phone, and he seemed perfectly healthy when I was here last time.”

“I don’t know.” Jack leaned over and sniffed the steam rising from the teacup, then wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure, but it could be poison.”

Zoe stepped back from the prone body. “Even if it’s not poison, he’s dead and that means an investigation. Police and crime scene techs.” She took another step back and bumped into a chair, which caused an avalanche of paper to engulf her feet. “The account numbers—he had them. They’ll find them on his computer. And they’ll find out he called me. My phone number will show as an outgoing call.” She kicked at the papers on her feet. “They’ll trace it all back to me. And with cameras outside on every corner—”

Jack stepped around Bent’s legs and gripped Zoe’s upper arms. “Zoe, stop.” He gave her a little shake. “Look at me.” She looked into his silvery blue eyes. “We’re going to be okay,” he said in a smooth voice, “but we have to be smart and think clearly.”

She nodded and got a grip on her surging panic.

“Did you touch anything when you were here before?”

“I don’t know.”

His grip on her arms tightened. “Think.”

“Ow.” Zoe rotated her shoulders, and he released her.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” She blew out a breath. “Let me think. I might have touched the door when I came in. Then I sat on the arm of that chair over there. The one with all the papers in it.”

Jack moved to the chair and wiped it down with his scarf. “Did you write down the account numbers for him?”

“No, I read them off to him. He didn’t write them down, just closed his eyes and...memorized them, I guess.”

Zoe didn’t really want to go back around the desk, but she edged over to the laptop. “This is the computer he had open when I gave him the numbers. He was typing on it when I left.”

“Okay, we take the laptop.” He was following the cord to the outlet as he spoke. “Check the desk for any papers that mention your name or the account numbers.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Zoe said, but she was already scanning the stacks of paper. “The good news is that he has terrible handwriting. I don’t see anything that I can even decipher.”

“Good.” Jack wound the computer cord as he came back to the desk, then reached for the laptop.

Zoe put a hand on his arm. “Jack, I don’t know. He’s dead. We shouldn’t interfere in a police investigation. What if they never find out who killed him because we messed with the evidence?”

“If I’ve learned one thing these last few months, it’s that you have to watch out for yourself. Once we get clear of here, we can mail everything back with a nice anonymous letter, if it will make you feel better. There’s nothing we’re taking that they can’t find out, eventually. A computer guy like him will have his files backed-up somewhere. Grab that laptop, and let’s get out of here.”

Zoe hesitated. “But taking his computer, doesn’t that make us look guilty—” she broke off and leaned toward the computer screen. “Wait a minute...”

“What is it?”

“The email that’s open—see the name in the
FROM
line? [email protected]? That’s the email address that Nico gave me for Ares.”