The Fall of East

by Nana Malone

  I pulled out a file of witness statements from the box. When I sat back down, I propped my feet up. One by one, I went through the pieces of evidence that my father had compiled, chasing him for the last job Theroux did. It didn't matter how I looked at it, none of it made sense until I came across a photo of a woman in black and white. Nothing was written on the back. She was shown in profile, and her thick dark hair hung to her back and blew in the wind. There was something about the angle of her head, and I frowned. Why did she look so familiar?

  And then my brain locked in. She looked like my mother, but not identical. Her jaw was fuller and the nose too sharp. The French Riviera was in the background. Her face was partially obscured by a hat, but there were her lips… Mum?

  My hands shook as I sat up and pulled out a photo I had of her in my wallet. It was of me, my father, and her on holiday. Dad had me up on his shoulders and we were all smiling and happy. I was looking at my mother, and she was glancing up at me. It was my favorite photo of her.

  There were certainly more at my father's house and one of my mother and father when they were married. But this one was my favorite. Still, the nose was wrong, but why did this unknown woman look like her? It couldn't be. Could it? If it was, what was my mother’s photo doing in a witness file?

  I set it aside and looked through the rest of the box. There were no other photos. I kept coming back to that picture. It wasn't attached to anything. It wasn't clipped to a statement. Nothing indicated that it was supposed to be in this box. Had dad brought the photo and mistakenly got it shuffled in here when he was investigating? That didn't make any sense.

  I pulled out the witness statements in the file. There was confidential informant documentation. It looked different than what we used now, but it covered the basics. The woman was identified as Leah Braddock. She'd been with Theroux as part of his gang. Francois Theroux was partnered with a man called Henry Warlow. Leah Braddock made their third. Together with their crew, they pulled off several heists all over Europe and America. They were always careful until the Collins job. They’d attempted to steal a Wilson Collins painting, but instead, they’d nearly gotten pinched.

  I glanced back at the photo and held it. Leah Braddock. Who was she?

  I looked for any more information on her, but that single CI sheet was the only thing that mentioned her. What happened to her? What did she give us? Where did she go? This was the only box of official records I had. The only one Amelia had brought me. I placed the folder in the box and sat back. I was missing something. I knew I wouldn't be able to let it go until I asked.

  I pushed to my feet, sliding my feet back into my loafers, and then marched out of my office to the left, down the hall to the corner. My father was in his glass office. I knocked. He waved me in. "Ny, how are you feeling?"

  "Fine, Dad. Mostly back to normal."

  "I hope you're not here to ask for your firearms and field clearance back. You still have another week of desk duty, at least, according to your physical therapist."

  I rolled my eyes. "No, Dad. I am aware. Trust me. I know my limitations better than you do."

  He nodded. "In that case, what do you need? I have a meeting in ten minutes."

  Never one for small talk. "All right, I won't take much of your time, but can you tell me who this is?"

  I placed the photo on his desk, and his brows furrowed. "What are you doing with this?"

  “Considering everyone thinks Theroux shot me, I figured I'd poke through old case files. Learn more about him."

  "We've all poked through them Nyla. There's nothing to see in there."

  "Except for this woman." I slid it back under his nose, forcing him to look at it. "Who is she?"

  He swallowed visibly. "She was a confidential informant. What does it matter?"

  “Okay I get that, but she looks a lot like Mum."

  He swallowed hard. "What? Don’t be ridiculous, Nyla. Besides, this has nothing to do with you. Leave it alone."

  "I'm sorry, but this is my business. You're telling me that Francois Theroux was the one who shot me. Great. Fine. So I want to know everything about him.”

  "I told you to leave it alone, Nyla. None of this matters anymore."

  "Well, it could be relevant. Who is Leah Braddock? Why do you have this photo of her? Where is the rest of her informant testimony? Where is the documentation of the information she delivered? Where’s her compensation package listed? Because I couldn’t find any of that."

  He stood and planted his hands on his desk. "I get that you're trying to figure this out, and you're in ‘Nyla mode.’ Full battle avenger, leaping without looking. And I'm telling you, this is none of your business. Get back to work."

  I jerked as if he’d hit me. He really wasn't going to tell me. He was definitely hiding something. The question was could I let it go, or was I going to keep digging?

  Nyla

  Later that afternoon, Amelia came into my office, panting near the door jamb. "Hey, we have a problem. Ryder Strong… he's dead."

  I blinked up, my eyes still bleary from pouring over the case files. "What? What do you mean he's dead?" My stomach knotted. Was this real?

  "Dead as in dead. We have a body. Let's go."

  "Dead how? Like in a car accident? Got hit by a double-decker? What?"

  She blew out an exasperated sigh. "Someone killed him. Grab your coat."

  "Jesus Christ." My head spun, and bile rose in my throat.

  "I know." I followed her out, and as we passed my father's office, he glowered at me and she slid me a glance. "What's going on there?"

  “I found out who the informant was on Theroux from thirty years ago. Weird thing is, there is no file on her CI sheet. And she bears a striking resemblance to my mother. I questioned him about it, and he is none too thrilled.”

  She stopped in the middle of the hall, forcing Caleb Madison to trip on his own feet to avoid running into her. "What do you mean, ‘she looked like your mother’?"

  I shrugged, still unable to process what I knew. "She looks a lot like my mum. The photo is in profile, and the nose is wrong. Cheekbones are off too, but something in her jawline and her mouth is so similar. The photos were taken in the south of France or something. The background is very Cote d’Azur and northern Italy. And in the profile, her face is in some shadow, but God, it really looked like her, at the mouth, especially."

  Amelia started walking again. "That’s some coincidence, right?"

  "He claims it is. He told me to mind my business though. Obviously, I'm not going to."

  She laughed. "Obviously?"

  Forty-five minutes later, we were at Ryder Stone’s townhouse. A chill skidded up my spine. "I remember meeting him here."

  "Wait, you didn't say you physically met him."

  I nodded absently as we tried to focus on the tech guy’s blabber. We were handed booties, hairnets, gloves, and then we were allowed to go inside. "Yeah, East brought me to meet him. He was the fence."

  Amelia shook her head. "God, that bloke is like a bad penny. Honestly, every time I turn around, there he is."

  "I thought you guys were getting along better?"

  She shrugged. "We are. I actually kind of like him for you."

  I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Right, but?"

  "It's like this orbit around him, you know? You can't help but get caught up in it. Hell, I'm not even dating him, and I'm caught up in it."

  “I get the feeling that's the way it always is, because whatever this is, Emma's caught up too, and Livy."

  She shrugged. "And Telly by virtue of being the bestie. She and I have a lot to talk about.”

  "Dare I ask? Are you trying to have me replaced?"

  She gave me a cheeky grin. "Never. But next time you bag a billionaire, make sure he has a brother or something, preferably one who is not a homicidal maniac, doesn't traffic women, and isn't an all-around asshole. I know, it's a tall order."

  "God, you asked for a billionaire, and all you
can talk about are reasons why you can't have that billionaire."

  She laughed at me. "Exactly. I'm such a pain in the ass, aren't I?"

  We located the room where the body was found, and a tech guy motioned for us to come in.

  "All right, tell us what we're looking at."

  He shook his head. "What you are looking at is Ryder’s place. Obviously, he lived here. It's him in the photos on the wall. We're testing everything, but we assume we'll find his DNA all over the place. All said and done, someone cut out his tongue."

  A shudder ran through me. "Jesus Christ. His tongue, really?"

  Amelia slid me a look. "Who did that?"

  "Well, something like that is usually done because somebody talked. Do you think this is about the car park?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, I do.”

  I sighed. “This is the last thing we bloody need."

  I turned to the tech, Davis, I thought his name was. He was new, younger. "Anything else?"

  "We found his phone. It was clutched in his hand. Obviously, we didn't want to disturb the body."

  Amelia nodded. "Yup, can you show us?"

  He pulled up the digital photos they'd taken.

  She frowned when she stared at it. "It's only a partial shot. Do you know who he was texting?"

  The tech shook his head. "Not for sure. But he’s got it labeled as Camberwell College of Art. That’s all we got."

  Camberwell College of Art. I frowned. Why did I know that name? "Can I make some inquiries?"

  Amelia nodded absently, but I knew she fully expected me to take it to the London Lords. After all, they were very much our partners on this. "Yup, you go ahead, I’ll finish this up."

  "Any sign of a break-in or anything?" I asked Davis.

  He shook his head. “If I had to speculate, he could have known the attacker, as there is no sign of forced entry. We checked all the windows and doors, all of which were locked up tight except for the front door."

  I frowned as I kneeled next to the body. He might have been a criminal, but he'd been nice. Affable. Really funny. I didn't know why, but seeing him dead struck a chord deep within me, and I wasn't sure it was one I could let go of.

  Who would do this? From what he’d told East and me, he hadn't been in the game in a long time. Something prompted him to give up the storage at the car park. But what? Or who?

  I turned to Amelia. "After all these years, why turn in the car park location?"

  She watched me. "Maybe he was sick and tired of his partners. Maybe they hadn't paid him. Maybe they tried to cut him out. I don't know. There’s a myriad of possibilities."

  “This doesn't make any sense because he'd been cooling for so long. He was trying to go straight."

  “People will do things for all kinds of reasons, Ny."

  "I know. I just want to know why he did this. I'd been meaning to come over here and speak to him, ask about his sudden change of heart. The last time I saw him, he was all mum, straight and narrow. He went on and on about how he had gone straight. He was putting his skills to good use on the legit side. So, why even involve himself in something like the car park? It would put him in the crosshairs with his partners."

  Amelia shrugged. “These are career criminals. They'll say they want to do things, but half the time they don't really mean it, Nyla. Especially not if that thing that they want to do comes along with work. If it's too hard, they don't actually want to follow through."

  I considered this as I spoke to Ryder softly. "Did it get too hard to stay on the straight and narrow? Was it too complicated? Was there something that you were leaving behind?” I spotted something small and silver that had rolled under his palm. Reaching out carefully with my gloved hand, I moved his finger to retrieve it. I picked it up and inspected it closer. It looked like a cufflink. Silver with a simple cursive J embossed on it. I grabbed an evidence bag, dropped it inside, and handed it to the tech.

  Amelia watched me, well aware of my process as I tried to piece things together aloud. "Why would someone want him dead? If you're his partner, there's no point. He's already ratted you out, so you would think that you would be hustling to get the hell out of Dodge, right?"

  She just shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe they were pissed off at him for blabbing to the cops."

  "Maybe. But something really doesn't make sense to me. He was out of the game. So if you were out, what makes you go back in? What makes you decide that you weren't done with the life yet?"

  I paused. "Love," I stated simply as I looked more closely at the layout of his body.

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's the only thing that everyone acts crazy about. Everyone."

  She laughed. "Are you telling me love is the great equalizer?"

  "Isn't it? We're looking for the one thing that he would break years of being on the straight and narrow for. Imagine you've done everything you needed to do. Sorted your life. Gotten your act together. What would you end it for?"

  Amelia just shook her head. "Okay, suppose I buy it. Suppose it made sense to me, and he would give that all up for someone. Who? And why now?"

  "That's the real kicker. Why now? I have no idea. But I met this man. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but he wasn't mean spirited. He didn't deserve to get murdered like this."

  "He was still a criminal, Ny."

  “None of those things we recovered are worth killing over."

  “Maybe the warehouse actually held some originals? Maybe someone was willing to kill for that. It's millions of dollars." She shrugged. “People kill for less. Revenge. Love, as you put it.”

  I laughed and then checked my watch. East had a meeting that afternoon. He'd been irritated about some investor. So I called Telly.

  She answered on one ring. "Ah, new wifey. Hi."

  "Hi, Tell, how are you?"

  "Never been better. So, to what do I owe the pleasure? I’ve got a few minutes. Hit me, what is it?"

  "I really appreciate this."

  "Of course, you wouldn't call if it wasn't important. What's up?"

  "Okay, if I said Camberwell College of Art, and I needed to cross reference that with anything that we've been currently looking up regarding Theroux or any of that, what do you get?"

  "Give me a chance to be great," she said, laughing.

  I waited for less than a minute. When she came back, she whistled low. "Well, it just so happens that Garreth Jameson went to that art school."

  I frowned. "What?"

  "Yeah, Garreth Jameson. Is that a problem?"

  "No, not exactly. Um, can you also just cross reference his name with any school scandals, any trouble he might have gotten into?"

  "Okay, that's very specific."

  "I know. It's just that I seem to remember that someone in the Wilson gang that pulled the Monaco heist might have attended there. Anything?"

  She laughed. "Um, one second. Yeah, I show Marc Wilson and Riley Mills as having attended the school, and one of them has a sister, Krista Wilson. Marc and Riley attended at the same time as Garreth Jameson."

  I frowned. “Can you cross-reference Garreth Jameson with any of them?"

  "Yeah, there you go. There were in classes together, until there was an honor code violation about a forged painting."

  What were the odds? "Tell, thank you so much. This is really helpful."

  "Let me guess, tell the team, and you'll explain later?"

  "You're the best."

  "Yeah, someone tell East that."

  "You know, you two need to learn to coexist."

  "Tell him first."

  I chuckled even as I hung up.

  When I stepped back inside, Amelia looked at me expectantly. "What's up?"

  The tech guys were still standing around, so I inclined my head for her to follow me into the kitchen. There were less of them in there. “The art school Ryder was calling was the same one Garreth Jameson attended."

  Amelia whistled low. "Jesus Christ. Everything is permeated with the London Lords
."

  "Yeah, you could say that. Also, our Monaco jewel heist, the original perpetrators, Marc Wilson and Riley Mills, attended with Jameson. They had several classes together too. They knew him. And they were all caught up in a forgery scandal."

  “We can't ever do anything the easy way, can we?"

  I shrugged. "I mean, easy would be boring. You would hate boring."

  “On the contrary, I think I would very much like boring. I think boring might be fun."

  I laughed. "Nah. What would you do without me keeping it interesting for you?"

  "Retire. Somewhere like Scotland or Wales. Yes, there's a sheep farm in Wales. I wouldn’t constantly be thinking about how to navigate my job. I could work for some like, slow police department. You know, one of those that sees more sheep than people in a day."

  I laughed. "And you would be bored to death."

  "Possibly. But ooh, I would be sane. So sane."

  We both laughed. "Okay, Jameson. Are we going to pick him up?"

  Amelia shook her head. "Well, let's get a little more evidence. After all, Lord Jameson is already a problem. If he is who we think he might be, then let's not invite trouble for ourselves. Let's have our ducks lined up before we talk to Garreth."

  I nodded and looked back at Ryder Stone. "He didn't deserve this."

  Amelia nodded. "I know. Whatever the hell is going on, we're going to figure it out. We owe him at least that."

  Chapter Nine

  Nyla

  The plan was simple. Lucas, of course, didn't like this plan. He wanted the big, showy thing, where he'd break in under cover of night in full-on cat burglar mode. But there was no need for that. We were going to walk in the front door.

  Besides, this way it was a three-man team only. And if we were careful, we would be catching Lord Jameson right as breakfast ended. He'd already told us once that he was a creature of habit.

  He took his coffee in the sunroom every day at nine. So turning up at nine or ten for an audience would mean that he would be available and one of us could grab his spoon. If we weren't able to go into the sunroom, Lucas could slide in as a staff member and do it on the off chance we needed him to.