Текст книги "26 - Storm Cycle "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

FIFTEEN

RIVER OAKS COUNTRY CLUB

HOUSTON, TEXAS

"Gentlemen. How nice to see you. I didn't know you played golf." Carlos Dobal smiled at Finley and Gonzalez as they approached him on the fairway. He was a tall, good-looking man who spoke with only a trace of a Spanish accent.

"We don't play golf," Finley said.

"You should. Did you know that your police chief's promotion was decided somewhere between here and that hill over there?"

"Damn," Gonzalez said. "And here I thought it was because he was a decent cop."

Dobal shrugged. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"We're investigating the campus shooting. You've heard about it?"

"Of course. Your suspect was found dead, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Finley said. "But we still don't know who he is or who he was working for."

"Fingerprints?"

"We have a complete set, but no match. No match on the facial scans, either. But we have reason to believe that the NSA knows who he is. They seized the corpse and the weapon just a few hours ago."

"Interesting. Did they offer an explanation?"

"No. And we're still trying to work this case. Can you help us?"

"What help do you think I can be?"

"I believe we both know what you can do for us." Finley paused. "If you'd be so kind, Mr. Dobal."

Dobal looked down and away from them.

Finley studied him as he waited for his answer. Dobal looked remarkably the same as he had when they first met four years before. The man's wife and child had been kidnapped by an old enemy from his days as a Spanish intelligence agent, and Finley and his then-partner had succeeded in bringing them back unharmed.

But at a terrible cost.

"How is Detective Pace's family?" Dobal asked.

"Her husband got remarried last year, and they moved to Oregon. I think her two girls are doing well."

Dobal nodded. "Such a tragedy. I think of her often."

"Me too."

"Whatever happiness I have in my life, I owe to her." He looked up at Finley. "And to you, Detective. What do you need?"

"Since our own intelligence agencies seem to be stonewalling us, I wondered if you might go to your own sources. Maybe some of your old colleagues will be more forthcoming."

"What do you have?"

Gonzalez handed him a large manila envelope. "This is everything we have on the corpse. Prints, photographs, dental X-rays, body scans, the works. Something in here triggered the NSA to swing into action. We'd like to know what it is."

Dobal placed the envelope on the seat of his golf cart. "You know, of course, I'm now just a dull, ordinary investment counselor. I don't have direct access to any of the databases you probably require."

"But you know people who do, right?"

"Possibly." Dobal reached into his golf bag and selected an iron. "But I know from personal experience that the NSA agents may have a good reason for keeping you in the dark."

"Even if it means that we can't do our jobs?"

"Yes. This may not be only for the sake of their interests, but for your sakes as well."

"We'll take our chances," Gonzalez said.

"Once you start down this path, there may be no going back. I daresay those NSA agents have a much better idea what awaits you than you do. Are you sure you want to venture into this territory?"

Finley nodded. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't. Rachel Kirby is an innocent victim of Whatever is going on. She deserves to be protected. I don't want this case buried in a NSA TOP SECRET BOX somewhere."

"Very well." Dobal walked toward his ball on the green. "And do consider taking up golf, gentlemen. It's a very relaxing game."

CHICAGO-WAUKEGAN REGIONAL AIRPORT

WAUKEGAN, ILLINOIS

Rachel frowned as she watched the fire red Maserati speed away from the aircraft hangar. Demanski and Allie never looked back as they roared through the complex's main gate.

"I wish she'd stayed with us," Rachel said.

"Splitting up the dual surveillance on Wiley made sense. Demanski said he needed to pick up a report on Wiley in person."

"He didn't have to take Allie."

"As I recall, she volunteered."

Rachel grimaced. "Yeah. That Maserati may have had something to do with it. Allie loves fine cars." For the major part of the journey, she had watched Allie and Demanski talking and joking together like old friends. "But I think she likes him."

"I understand he has a certain appeal to some people." Tavak slung his travel bag over his shoulder. "To tell the truth, I'm glad your sister is there to keep an eye on Demanski."

"You don't trust him?"

"I do. Sort of. But he's an opportunist, and I feel better knowing that Allie can report back on what he's doing."

"Do you think they'll come up with anything?"

"Demanski says he already has someone monitoring Dr. Wiley's telephone and e-mail communications, just in case Dawson tries to make contact."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that part."

Tavak laughed. "Dawson tried to kill me, and I do believe those were real bullets whizzing by your head at Hearst Castle the other night. You're upset by somebody reading his e-mail?"

"Sounds ridiculous, I know. Somehow, a bullet in Dawson's brain seems less objectionable to me than invading his privacy. I guess that's something I need to get over."

"Immediately."

They walked toward a black Escalade SUV parked just outside the hangar. Tavak opened the rear hatch and tossed his and Rachel's bags inside. "Funny how Demanski rented that hot little Maserati for himself and this behemoth for us."

"Well, I feel better in this."

"I do too, actually. It's more inconspicuous if we're going to be tailing someone around the streets of Chicago. Too bad Demanski didn't show a bit more restraint with his own car."

"The words 'Demanski' and 'restraint' should never appear together in the same sentence." Rachel suddenly realized something. "I think that's why Allie is drawn to him. She's been restrained by her illness and fighting those strictures for most of her life. Demanski's recklessness and flaunting the rules must be very appealing."

"You're not worried that she might be unduly influenced?"

"Allie's no fool. She might enjoy him, but she's too strong to let him change anything about her."

"Then there's no problem. You know her better than I—" Tavak's cell phone rang, and he picked up. "Tavak."

"You tried to shut me out, dammit. Okay, so I told you no more tombs, but I can handle—"

"Ben?"

"Yes. You should have come to me first. You've known me a hell of a lot longer than Nuri."

"You're still in the hospital, dammit."

"No, I'm in London."

"Oh, for God's sake."

"I'm fine. A little wonky, but at least I'm not bored. That hospital was driving me nuts."

"Ben, go back to the hospital."

"Nope. I'm on the job. Nuri and I will get back to you as soon as we find out something."

"Is Nuri there? Let me talk to him."

A moment later Nuri was on the line. "I'm sorry, it was necessary that I either bring him or have him follow me."

"How bad is he?"

"Not too bad. The hospital would have released him within a few days anyway."

Tavak muttered a curse. "Listen to me. Take care of him. Sometimes he's—Don't let him do too much."

"Trust me. I know he's your friend." He paused. "But now he's my friend, too. I will watch over him. And now I must go because Ben is looking at me with extreme indignation. Goodbye."

"Your friend, Ben?" Rachel asked, as Tavak hung up.

Tavak nodded jerkily. "He checked himself out of the hospital and tagged along to London with Nuri."

"Nuri seemed to be very capable." She studied him. "But you're not with Ben, guiding, watching him yourself. You don't like that. You're very protective."

"Yeah, that's why I almost got him killed in that tomb. Well, there's nothing I can do about it now." Tavak checked his watch. "Ready to go to school?"

* * *

It took less than an hour for Rachel and Tavak to drive to the University of Chicago, park, and make their way to the five-hundred-seat auditorium where Dr. James Wiley was lecturing.

As they entered the hall and allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness, Rachel realized that Wiley was speaking on the subject of Babylonian customs. He spoke in a painful monotone, and to illustrate his lecture, he used a large projection screen and a particularly unimaginative PowerPoint slide presentation.

Rachel glanced around the auditorium. "These poor kids," she whispered.

"Half of them are asleep," Tavak said. "Can you blame them?"

Wiley pulled up another slide of a colorful painting. "For the next hour, we'll take a look at some of the headpieces of this era… "

Rachel was sure she heard about two hundred anguished sighs in the room.

"That's our cue," Tavak said. "Let's go."

Tavak was already out of his seat and heading for the door. Rachel ran to follow him.

Outside, in the bright sunlight, Tavak briefly consulted a campus map on his phone before pointing to another building. "His office is over there in Haskell Hall. He just told us the coast will be clear for the next hour."

"What are you going to do?"

"Remember that thing we decided you needed to get over?"

"Invading people's privacy?"

"Yes. Over it yet?"

"Guess I'd better be," she said, as they walked into the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tavak consulted a scrap of paper as they walked past a row of faculty offices. They finally stopped at a door with a typewritten card affixed to it that read DR. JAMES WILEY and listed office hours. Before Rachel even realized what was happening, Tavak had jimmied the door and was ushering her inside.

"You did that way too fast," she said.

"I admit I've done this once or twice before." He pulled her into the office and closed the door behind them.

Rachel flipped on the lights to reveal a small, windowless room with a desk, a set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a long table covered with what appeared to be ancient stone cookware.

Tavak leaned over the desk and looked at Wiley's computer monitor. "His e-mail application is open."

"Is there anything there?"

"You mean a subject heading that says 'come look at our stolen Egyptian artifact'?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Tavak scrolled though Wiley's e-mails for the previous week. "Afraid not. And nothing about plane reservations or travel plans of any kind. Too bad."

Tavak reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black box the size of a pack of cigarettes. He pulled off an adhesive backing and affixed the box to the underside of Wiley's desk.

"What's that?"

"A listening device."

"A bug? I thought those things were smaller."

"This is a special one. It records all conversations from here and e-mails them to me as audio files."

She nodded. "Interesting. You know, if you set up a relay with a simple voice-recognition software package, you could have a written transcript created and e-mailed to you at the same time."

"I hadn't thought of that."

She shrugged. "I can set that up in fifteen minutes. I'll work on it tonight."

He smiled. "You're a natural."

"A natural what? Criminal?"

"Spy. I'm glad you're on my side." Tavak pulled a small plastic disc from his pocket and walked over to the door, where an overcoat hung from a hook. He unzipped a corner of the lining, placed the disc inside, then closed it.

"Let me guess," Rachel said. "GPS transmitter?"

"You catch on fast. I don't know what Demanski's source has, but Dr. James Wiley won't be able to make a move without us knowing about it." Tavak pulled out another GPS transmitter and again consulted his scrap of paper. "Now let's go to the faculty parking lot and find his car. According to the Illinois Department of Motor Vehicles, it's a gold Toyota Camry."

* * *

"Why did your contact want to meet down here?" Allie asked as she walked with Demanski down the busy stretch of Michigan Avenue known as the Magnificent Mile. Allie watched as the high-end shoppers jostled with businessmen, tourists, and a large group of children who had obviously come from a Star Wars-themed birthday party.

Demanski stepped around a small child wearing a Yoda mask. "It was my idea, actually."

"Your idea?"

"I thought it would be fun. Have you ever been here on the Magnificent Mile?"

"No. My first time in Chicago."

"Good. Then I made the right choice by bringing you here. I guess we could have arranged a handoff at night on a dark side street, but that would have been so… depressing."

Her lips curved in a slight smile. "You're more like John Tavak than you care to admit."

"Perish the thought. I didn't think you knew him that well."

"I don't, but Rachel has told me a bit about him. He's a focused and driven person, but like you, he wants to enjoy the ride."

"There's one big difference between us."

"What's that?"

He looked out at the lake. "From what I understand, Tavak never hesitates to go all the way. Before last night, I had never killed a man."

Allie looked at him. "The man on the bridge?"

Demanski nodded. "I've led a rough life, but that was one transgression I'd never committed. It felt very… strange. I've been in some pretty intense situations before, and I've never had to resort to that. I've had a price on my head on three different continents. My own casino manager once came to work one night with the intent to kill me. There have been many times I could have taken care of my problems—and ended someone's life—with a simple phone call. But I chose not to do it. It's been one of the rules I wouldn't break. Until last night."

She was silent for a moment, then impulsively put a hand on his arm. "Then I'm sorry you had to do it for me."

He smiled. "I'm not sorry. I'd do it again. I've never met a woman more worth breaking all the rules for."

Allie couldn't look away from him. The words were said very simply. It wasn't bullshit. It wasn't Demanski trying to make a score. She finally managed to tear her gaze away. "Why did you decide to hijack that mastaba wall?"

"You don't believe it was revenge?"

She shook her head. "And it wasn't the prospect of another potload of money on the horizon."

"I'd be interested to hear your take on it."

"Boredom. You've seen everything, done everything. You wanted to see if you'd missed something along the way."

"That makes me sound somewhat shallow."

"No, there's nothing shallow about you. You're smart, and you're always thinking. You're just not sure that where you're going will be enough for you."

"Then you're not condemning me for not being totally devoted to the great quest?" he asked mockingly.

"Why should I? I can understand your motivation perfectly. I haven't seen everything, and I certainly haven't done everything. I wish I had."

Demanski didn't speak for a moment. "I wish you had, too."

She glanced at him and sighed. "Oh, Lord. I've seen that expression before. You're revving up for a major pity party. I thought better of you, Demanski."

He looked away from her. "Sorry. I'll work at regaining my respect in your eyes. It was just a temporary failing. How could I forget what a tough nut you are, Allie?"

That moment had been too emotional and come out of nowhere. Time to veer away. "Where are we supposed to meet your contact?"

"He's already here." Demanski nodded ahead to a plaza in front of the Wrigley Building, located on the north bank of the Chicago River. A gray-haired man in a sports coat was watching two teenagers on their skateboards.

"He's very good," Demanski said. "I once used him to get some information on a Chicago business consortium that was trying to muscle me out of a real-estate project I had put together. He has great connections at the phone companies, and a lot of the private detectives in town use him."

One of the kids, a ruddy-faced young man with long blond hair, picked up his board and waved to the other. "Later, dude." He walked toward Demanski and Allie.

"His name is Tyler K.," Demanski said. "He's a good kid."

Her eyes widened. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

Allie watched in amazement as Demanski playfully bumped fists with Tyler K. "Good moves on your board," Demanski said. "You can still bring the magic."

Tyler K. laughed. "Aah, I was just screwing around. I haven't been worth shit since I busted up my leg."

Demanski turned to Allie. "Allie, meet Tyler K. He'll be an Olympic skateboarding champion one day."

Tyler K. shook his head. "Doubtful. I was ninth in the U.S. one year, but they'll never give medals for that." He nodded to Allie. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

She smiled. "The pleasure's mine."

"What do you have for me, Tyler K.?"

Tyler K. reached behind him and pulled a large white envelope out from underneath his shirt. "Here it is."

"What did you find out?"

"I got phone records for his home, his cell, and his office. My source at the local phone company jacked me around on the price, so I'm gonna have to ask for an extra thousand. Cool?"

"That's fine. Did you cross-reference the numbers as I asked?"

"Dude, you just called a few hours ago."

"I know. I guess I thought you were a miracle worker."

"Aw, you're playin' me, man." Tyler K. lit up with a broad smile that revealed two missing teeth. "You wanted to know about cell-phone calls from out of the country. There are quite a few cell-phone calls in the past couple of days, but I don't know yet if they went through overseas providers. I'll work on it, but you may have other people who might be able to get you that information faster."

"Thanks. Keep on it, and I'll see what I can do on my end."

Demanski produced a small envelope that Allie assumed contained money. He then pulled out his wallet, counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills for the extra thousand, and handed the cash and envelope to the kid.

Tyler K. jammed them into the front pocket of his shorts. "So when are you gonna set me up in one of your Las Vegas high-roller suites?"

"Anytime, my man. Anytime." Demanski bumped fists with him again.

"You'll hear from me." Tyler K. dropped his skateboard to the sidewalk and rolled away.

Allie shook her head. "Where on earth did you ever find him?"

"My director of security recommended him. As I said, Tyler K. does this kind of thing for several of the private investigators in town."

"So what do we do now?"

"We wait to see if Dawson makes contact with our professor." Demanski pulled out his iPhone, launched the e-mail application, and showed Allie a map on the screen. "Tavak and your sister have been successful."

"What's that?"

"The GPS tracking device they're using sends out an e-mail that plots the current location on a map. Tavak can also track it in real time. This tells us that Professor Wiley is still on campus."

"Do you think Dawson will really contact this Wiley?"

Demanski motioned for her to continue up the street with him. "Tavak thinks so, and he seems to have a pretty good insight into Dawson."

"But Tavak thinks he could also be in England."

"That's true. I just hope Tavak's man there is as good as he says he is."

MUSEUM OF ARCHAEOLOGY AND ANTHROPOLOGY

CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND

Ben walked through the Maudslay Gallery on the museum's first floor, looking at several displays of Native American sculptures. The gallery was relatively empty except for a few college students who sat cross-legged on the floor, sketching on large pads.

Ben stopped to examine a particularly oblique object, wondering what the sculptor's contemporaries thought of it. Hell, they probably couldn't make any more sense of it than he could. He turned and was startled to see Nuri standing beside him.

"Jeez, Nuri. You about gave me a heart attack. How were you able to sneak up on me like that?"

Nuri shrugged. "I only use the movements I require, no more."

"Is that an invisibility trick?"

"To the unobservant, perhaps."

Ben cocked his head. "You have a sneaky way of insulting me, you know that?"

Nuri gazed at him blandly. "I am sure I do not know what you're talking about."

"Well, you just called me unobservant, and on the plane you pleasantly insinuated that it was my waistline, not the narrow seats, that was responsible for my discomfort. Add that to the fact that you told the bellman to fetch the bags for your 'elderly friend,' and I'm starting to get a complex." Ben wrinkled his brow. "Apparently, I'm old, fat, and unobservant."

"It was not my intention to slight you in any way."

"It may not have been your intention… "

Nuri nodded. "I see. In early stages of dementia, social situations are very often misinterpreted."

"Early stages of… " Ben laughed. "You son of a bitch."

Nuri smiled. "I will be mindful of your exceedingly sensitive nature as we move forward."

"Why do I feel more insulted than ever?"

"That I cannot say."

Ben glanced behind Nuri at the man approaching them. "Okay, we're on. Ready?"

Nuri nodded and suddenly took on a regal air. "Of course."

A bearded man in khakis and a brown sports jacket approached them. "Mr. Mubarek, sorry to have kept you waiting."

Nuri smiled. "No worries. I took the opportunity to admire your fine collection."

Ben shook hands with Dr. Collier. "I'm Ralph Conners. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes, of course. We're very excited that you're considering us for such a generous donation."

Ben gestured to Nuri. "The decision, of course, is Mr. Mubarek's. I'm just assisting him in this process."

Nuri stepped forward. "My late father was a man of considerable means, and his collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts was immense. Alas, his interests are not mine, and I have no desire to keep his collection. But I wish to keep it intact in a place where it will be presented with respect."

"Of course."

Ben handed Collier a thick binder filled with pages and photographs encased in sheet protectors. "This will give you an idea what we're talking about."

Collier thumbed through a few of the pages. "This is extraordinary. This was your father's private collection?"

Nuri nodded. "He was very proud of it."

"I can see why. But you realize there may be a problem transporting these objects out of Egypt. Your country isn't fond of its treasures being taken away."

"My father never liked being told what he could do with his personal property." Nuri smiled. "And almost all of it is in a warehouse in Holland. I've been assured there will be no problems."

Collier looked through the book a moment longer. "Very impressive. Not that I'm not grateful, but why us? As you can see, our Egyptian collection is rather modest."

"You have Mr. Conners to thank for that. He suggested your institution."

Ben shrugged. "For one thing, we're confident your museum will properly showcase the collection. The Egyptian Museum in Cairo would gladly accept it, but you and I both know that most of it would always remain in storage."

Collier nodded. "I'm afraid you're right."

"Second, you have a terrific reputation for your expertise in Old Kingdom Egyptian studies. But for some reason, you have found yourself at a university museum without a notable Egyptian collection. We think this could be a good fit, don't you?"

"I do indeed." Collier closed the book. "Well, I'm definitely interested, and I believe we can give your father's collection the showcase you're looking for. What more can I tell you?"

Nuri looked at Ben, who turned to Dr. Collier. "Before making his decision, Mr. Mubarek would like to spend some time here at the museum and with you. He has a good feeling here, but he wants to make sure. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course."

"We'll be here for the next ten days or so, and Mr. Mubarek's schedule is quite uncertain. He may call you anytime during the day or night with questions or a request for a meeting at a moment's notice. Would this be acceptable to you?"

Dr. Collier thought about this. "I'll give you my cell-phone number. I do have obligations, but I can make myself available almost anytime you need me."

Nuri smiled. "Thank you. How is your schedule today and tomorrow?"

"Days I'm fairly flexible, but tomorrow night I have a professional commitment."

Nuri raised his eyebrows. "Really? I would welcome the opportunity to meet some of your colleagues."

"Oh, it's nothing like that. I occasionally do some consulting work, and an outside project has suddenly fallen into my lap. But it's nothing we can't work around." Collier reached into his pocket and produced a card. "Here. My home and cell numbers. Feel free to call anytime."

Ben took the card. "Thank you, Dr. Collier. On the phone, you promised us a personal tour. Is this a good time?"

Collier smiled. "Of course."

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Ben and Nuri walked along the tree-lined path outside the museum, each holding piles of pamphlets that Collier had given them during their brief tour.

"Okay," Ben said. "First, we need to know more about the special project that has suddenly come up for Collier."

"I could have pressed him further," Nuri said, "but I didn't want to arouse suspicion. I could only take this act so far. I'm not comfortable in the role."

"No, you were right to hold back." Ben thought for a moment. "We'll keep an eye on him for the next couple of days, especially tomorrow night."

"An eye? I'm pleading with you, Ben. Join the twenty-first century."

"We've been through this. I'm not a fan of tracking devices, bugs, and all that James Bond gear."

Nuri sighed. "But it works."

"Sometimes it works. If you're someone like Tavak. And sometimes it doesn't, usually just when you need it most. How often do you drop a call on your cell phone? Every day? Four or five times a week? That's no big deal. But when a tracking device drops out, you're royally screwed. I know, because it's happened to me."

"They're now much more dependable than they were back in the sixties."

"Very funny. You sound just like Tavak, trying to drag me into the future."

"The present, Ben. It's happening now all around you."

"Do Whatever you want to do, Nuri. But as far as I'm concerned, all that stuff is just backup for good old-fashioned legwork."