“Any leads on where this Dante Caruso may have been taken?” Heidi asked.
“We’re working on it.”
“Of course,” Bodie said, “Caruso might have perpetrated this himself. Taken his family. Forced them to go with him.”
He watched carefully as Heidi palmed the phone and turned to address the room. “This new development is directly relevant to the relic hunters, as it concerns the famous Amber Room. And Bodie, stop acting coy; I know you’ve heard of it. The question is, Does Caruso’s disappearance substantiate his claims?”
Lucie Boom moved to the center of the room as if addressing a class. “Most importantly, it doesn’t disprove them. This entire event needs investigating.”
“And I guess you can help with some background on the Amber Room?” Gunn asked.
“Of course. That’s my job.”
“Look.” Bodie stepped in. “I’m sorry to do this again. I know we caused issues during the last mission when Cass and I focused on rescuing Jack whilst the rest of you struggled in Brazil, but—”
“You work for the CIA,” Heidi said bluntly. “Who are the only people in the world able to safely facilitate for you a face-to-face with the Bratva. You know the deal, Guy, and last time—when you ignored my orders—you said that would never happen again.”
“I’m pretty much impartial here.” Lucie was still standing ramrod straight. “But I do remember the Bratva caused hell on the last mission. Nearly killed us all. We don’t want that happening again.”
Bodie placed his cup on a coffee table. “They almost scuppered it,” he said. “Literally, at the end. And how long would it take to arrange a meet as important as this?”
“Not long,” Heidi admitted.
Yasmine cleared her throat. “I understand I am not part of this team,” she said, using both hands to smooth the front of her yellow dress. “As you know, I worked undercover for Interpol inside the Moroccan Bratva. Bodie and his team were high on their priority list, and you too, Agent Moneymaker. I suggest dealing with one significant enemy before crossing swords with what might become another.”
Bodie smiled but then looked away. He was grateful for her input but at odds with her presence. He imagined she’d be feeling the same way and searching for a way to become a part of the team. She remained a kind of personification of Cross’s death and a reminder that he was gone forever. Bodie wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to work directly with Yasmine. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to speak to her.
Jemma spoke up. “We need to stop feeling hunted and having to hide out in safe houses. I feel nervy, on edge, every second of every day. I don’t even want to risk heading to the store to grab breakfast. My mind is befuddled, and that’s not good for any of us.”
Heidi placed her cell on the table and sat down heavily. “By rights,” she said, “we should already be headed back to the office. But the odd thing is . . . I agree. We’re here in Florida and not set up in DC for a reason—the Bratva. We just risked our lives to grab that statue for the Bratva. Let’s see what it takes to end this.”
Bodie wanted to cheer as she reached for her phone. Pantera gave him a thumbs-up, and Jemma breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but this was a good sign.
While they waited for Heidi to complete her call, Bodie reflected briefly on Cross’s funeral. He hadn’t had much of a chance earlier, because they hadn’t had a moment to rest. It had been a dismal day in every sense of the word: rain trickling from the sky as if it couldn’t quite make up its mind, the grass damp underfoot, the entire area surrounded by a security cordon as Eli Cross had been laid to rest. The man’s family had been there, but Bodie had barely gotten a chance to talk to them. It had been rushed. Not the kind of ending such a good friend deserved. Bodie still did his best to keep Cross alive, though—carrying every memory in his heart and reliving one each day. To Bodie’s mind, the only time a person really died was when there was nobody left to remember them.
Lately, as a direct result of Cross’s death, he’d become more introspective. He’d never forgotten his first family of friends, the Forever Gang, and he’d been recalling some of the great moments of his youth, before the death of his parents. It helped keep him optimistic against all of life’s current conflicts and reminded him that the team he’d assembled now harked back to the team he used to run with.
The best days had always been unplanned back then, like a trip to the park that had become a quest through Highgate Wood as they’d searched for the monster that, according to local fables, lived there, preying on everything from rabbits to children by day and night. Brian, Scott, Jim, and Darcey had been his friends, all eight years old and on the cusp of perfection. When he thought back, Scott, the slow, deliberate one, reminded him of Cross. Brian, the adventurous one and the ringleader, reminded him of Cassidy. Jim, the quiet, introspective one, reminded him of Gunn. And Darcey, small for her age but a feisty thrill seeker who pushed all the boys to their limits . . . she reminded him of Jemma because of her spirit.
They had searched the woods for hours, enlisting the help of any friends they’d fortuitously come across, mapping out their route with care, stopping to eat sandwiches their mothers had wrapped in plastic film. They’d sat and eaten and talked and laughed without fear before resuming their monster quest an hour later. Comrades together, they’d taken each step with wonder, with fresh eyes and an unrestrained future. The sun and the summer and being together had been all they cared about.
But where are they now?
Bodie forced himself back to the present. Once the old memories of the Forever Gang had grabbed him, he found it hard to tear himself away from that happy place.
Because it reminded him of the tragedy that had come after but that had then, conversely, brought him full circle back to the family he loved now.
Heidi ended her call. “All right, well, that’s three more people in the Bratva loop.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t like it, but it has to be. I spoke to two detectives who are as close to the Bratva as police can get. They know the main players and can get messages to the right people. They’re willing to facilitate a meet and mentioned that the Bratva definitely have the hots for a certain group of relic hunters.”
“Hey, we’re famous,” Cassidy said.
“Not in a good way,” Heidi assured her.
“When’s the meet?” Bodie asked.
“Nine a.m. tomorrow morning,” Heidi said with a catch of nerves in her voice. “In some abandoned boat graveyard outside Miami.”
“Do you think there are too many people involved in this now?” Bodie tried to identify her worry.
“Well, I just spoke to three men, who will have to tell at least two more cops and an unknown number of Russians. And then they will tell . . .” She spread her arms. “Who knows? But I’m happy that the meet is soon. The less time that passes between now and the handover, the better I feel.”
“Did they sound amenable?” Gunn asked. “To the return of the statue, I mean?”
“That,” Heidi said, “is the life-or-death question, my friend. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bodie studied the abandoned boat graveyard suspiciously as he picked his way along a path between several rusting hulks.
Accessed off a side road that cut through an industrial park north of Miami, the boatyard was bordered by a tall black iron fence. There were several unofficial entrances cut through the fence, but the team walked through the only legitimate one—a wide, dusty gap once protected by a large black gate that now hung to the side, broken, askew, its paint flaking away.
Beyond the gate were boats of every shape and size. Some sat on timbers, splintered holes in their sides; others sagged, their wooden supports crushed by time. They were arranged so that a path cut through them, traveling arrow straight toward a ramshackle office building. It too was made of wood, Bodie noted with a little irony.
But the truth was the mold-caked hulks that
lined their way only registered in the peripheries of their vision. To a person, Bodie and his crew were utterly focused on one thing only: the Bratva.
Bodie felt a fresh breeze play around his face. He glanced back at the others, who were mostly walking in a group. When one of the decaying boats shifted, probably through age and in response to the rising morning sun heating its timbers, Gunn jumped on the spot, and Jemma flinched.
“I wish they hadn’t insisted we bring the whole team,” he muttered to Heidi, who was walking at his side. “I hate it.”
“The Bratva are pretty transparent in that respect,” Heidi said. “It’s all about honor. Their issue is with the whole team, so they want to resolve it with all of us.”
“Or kill us,” Bodie pointed out.
“I don’t think so. Our contact reported that the brotherhood’s leaders were amenable. Even impressed. The Bratva won’t want to prolong a blood feud. If they can solve the issue today and save face, I’m sure they will want it behind them.”
“And by the leaders, I assume you mean the old man’s sons,” Bodie said.
“Two of them,” Heidi said. “The third is out of the country.”
“This code of honor,” Cassidy said. “What do you know of it?”
Heidi slowed her pace as she explained. “Well, it’s complex. Their code translates to something like ‘thieves in law’ and has many obligations, including one that states they will not cooperate with the law in any way. But another states that if an enemy has honor and respect enough to pay his debts, then he must be taken seriously. That’s where the statue comes in.”
All this time, Pantera and Yasmine had stayed quiet, intent on spotting any hidden surveillance. Cassidy pointed out one man, Pantera another, but the team walked up to the timbered office without challenge.
Bodie and his friends stopped when the door opened inward. Dust plumed around the team as the morning sun beat down.
“Wait there,” a man wearing a black leather jacket and reflector sunglasses told him. He turned back toward the room and barked out two words: “Check them.”
Bodie waited patiently as they were patted down by four men. This was what they had expected to happen. So far, so good? Maybe, but he’d told everyone to prepare for an uncertain, stressful morning.
“I hope there’s coffee inside,” Cassidy said, seeking to ease the tension with a bit of levity. “I forgot second breakfast.”
The man wearing the reflector sunglasses regarded them without expression. Bodie noted that everyone wore shoulder holsters with Ruger handguns nestled inside. The handles were dull and pitted, no doubt through regular use.
“They’re clean, Aslan,” one of the four men said, stepping away from Pantera.
Aslan, the man with the sunglasses, glanced into the darkness of the room behind him. Bodie heard him mutter a few words before he turned back around.
“Come now,” Aslan said. “But heed my warnings. Do not move quickly. Do not ignore orders. Know that you are always standing in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle. Be respectful. And I would advise you to show remorse.”
Bodie understood the reason for the warnings. The two men they were here to meet ran the Floridian Bratva. Important figures, with a great deal of power. But he also knew that this scenario wouldn’t be unusual for them. Through his years of being a thief, of living amid the darker underbelly of society, he knew deals between organized crime and government agencies happened almost daily.
Bodie led the way, prepared to take the brunt of the blame from the Bratva. He carried the guilt of everything that had transpired since the team had crossed them. Stealing the old man’s statue had been his idea. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t have anticipated the theft resulting in a fatal heart attack.
Inside, the building smelled dank. It was riddled with decay, timbers rotting on the walls, allowing daylight to leak through. Sunlight dappled the floor—random spotlights falling on heaps of old papers, a battered desk, and a broken filing cabinet. Two men sat on folding chairs at the center of the room, which Bodie guessed measured about twenty feet across and twice that in length. He counted four men standing in the half shadows, weapons raised. Three guards stood behind the two seated men. If he counted Aslan and the four outside, that made fourteen Bratva soldiers visible.
He had to assume there were more. Cautiously, hands held by his sides, palms out, he approached the center of the room.
“Stop,” Aslan barked, and Bodie stopped nine feet away from the seated men. “Come no closer.”
Bodie determined their features easily from this distance. Both were middle aged, probably in their late forties, and looked bulky under their designer Italian suits. They stared expectantly, saying nothing, offering no outward emotion, so he assumed they wanted him to make the first inroad.
The silence was so profound Bodie heard his friends breathing at his back.
“I’m Guy Bodie,” he said. “I wish to say here and now that my team and I utterly regret the death of your father. We didn’t appreciate the sentimental value the statue held for him, and if you know anything of our reputation, you will know that we only execute victimless crimes. I do understand your wish for vengeance, and it’s with that in mind that we stole the statue back from its new owners and are returning it to you.”
He paused to take a breath.
The man to his left looked down and started inspecting his cuffs. “It is good that you get straight to the point, Mr. Bodie. It is good that you come here—this way—to make peace. I respect your effort. Where is the statue?”
Bodie gleaned nothing from the expressionless faces. It was like trying to gauge the reaction of a brick wall. He watched the room as best he could, allowing Cassidy to step forward, unhook the rucksack from her back, and carefully bend down and reach inside with one hand. He felt the tension inside the building suddenly double.
“Careful with that,” Aslan said. “We will shoot all of you if we suspect any treachery.”
Cassidy took her time, eventually lifting the statue clear of the bag. She straightened with it clasped in her right hand.
“Crap, I really hope it’s the right one,” she said, half-jokingly, but received nothing in reply. The entire Russian contingent just stared.
Bodie sought to break the spell. “Do you want to examine it?”
“I am Carl,” the man to Bodie’s left said. “And this is Nikolay. Our father suffered much through his life. This statue that you stole many years ago was our mother’s favorite, cherished by her until the day she died. It is old Russian. It is a part of the motherland”—he held one fist to his chest—“and part of my family.”
“The way you have returned it,” Nikolay said, speaking for the first time, “is honorable. Everything you have done to make amends shows respect. And on most occasions, it would be enough . . .” He left the sentence hanging as his face twisted in thought.
Bodie tried to quell an upsurge of trepidation. The Russian brothers knew what they were doing. This was being played out to punish the relic hunters even more. “‘On most occasions’?” he repeated carefully.
Around the room guns that had been held loosely were now raised and concentrated carefully upon the center of the room. Bodie saw they were in a kill box. We misread the bastards.
“Good will,” Carl said emotionlessly. “Our father would have killed you all where you stand. But we . . . we think the statue and some good will should be enough. We are honorable men.”
Bodie breathed through clenched teeth. The words this man was speaking didn’t match the atmosphere in the room, the raised guns, the vicious expressions, the flexing trigger fingers. Briefly, he looked away from the brothers and regarded his team. Cassidy was glaring at Carl with a severe expression. Heidi looked unsure, her normally calm outward demeanor pierced. Gunn, Jemma, and Lucie looked scared, eyes flitting left and right, arms held unconsciously across their chests in a defensive manner. Yasmine and Pantera stared back at Bodie with something that m
ight have been resignation.
Bodie turned to the brothers and didn’t hesitate. “If by ‘good will’ you mean to take a life, then take mine.”
Surprisingly, it was Heidi who spoke up first, voicing her objections and jerking Bodie around to face her. “You can’t,” she shouted point-blank into his face.
“Heidi, I—”
“You can’t!”
Then he was surrounded; Cassidy, Pantera, and Jemma grabbed his shoulders and shook them. Bodie was bewildered, unsure who to appease first. Even Yasmine looked like she wanted to say something, her mouth moving uncertainly but no words coming out.
Nikolay laughed coldly, cutting through their emotional scene. “You are assuming we are asking for volunteers? No. We want the life of Guy Bodie. He will honor our father’s death by offering his life.”
“I already did,” Bodie growled, tired of being reverential to men who clearly wanted him dead.
“You did, and now we shall take it.” Carl raised an arm. Bodie saw the sleeves fall back, revealing a gold watch. He saw Carl’s fingers unfold. He saw everything—from Nikolay’s cold glare to all those bodies that suddenly crowded around them.
His friends surrounded him, shielding his body.
Bodie’s heart leapt to see their courage. It reminded him of the old days with the Forever Gang, who always had his back. Even Jemma, Gunn, and Lucie were there, terrified but standing alongside Heidi and Cassidy, standing between him and a bullet.
“You can’t . . . ,” Bodie started to say anxiously. “I won’t let you.” He fought to get clear, constrained by bodies. “Wait!” he shouted over toward Carl and Nikolay. “Please wait.”
“Mr. Bodie.” Carl was chuckling, this time with real mirth. “We did not say we wanted to kill you. We said we wanted your life.”
Bodie scowled, thinking through the connotations. Did they mean servitude? Well, they’d have to fight the bloody CIA for that.
Nikolay saved him the trouble of asking. “Your service,” he said. “When we need it. Just once. Anytime. Anyplace, and for anything. That is what we want. And we expect you to die for that service, if need be. That, and the statue, will clear your debt.”
The Amber Secret Page 5