by Rosett, Sara
Jack pulled a napkin from under the anchor of the paper trays that held their sausages. The wind snagged it, and he reached over to pick it up before the wind whipped it over the edge of the platform. Jack straightened. “It’s McKinley. Can you hear anything they’re saying?”
Zoe tilted her head to the side and focused all her concentration on listening. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “Nothing. Either they’re not talking, or they’re speaking so quietly I can’t hear them. Do you think…is he giving it to McKinley here?” If that was the case, things had moved too fast. They’d arrived too late to get Alessi involved before the Flawless Set changed hands. The horrible consequences of what that would mean settled on her like a heavy weight on her shoulders.
“Let’s not panic yet. It looks like all they are doing is sitting.”
Zoe reached for her messenger bag and pulled out the small camera she’d used to snap photos of all the tourist sights. “You know what we need? Pictures, so we’ll have more than our word that they met.”
“Good idea.”
“Don’t worry,” she said before he could say anything else. “I’ll use the zoom.”
She ate another bite of her sausage, then inched her way out of the picnic bench seat, and went the long way around the building situated in the middle of the viewing platform, which housed the snack stand as well as stairs and elevators to the other levels of the building. She came out on the other side, snapped a few photos of the outcropping of rock topped by a golden cross that marked the highest point in Germany, then swiveled toward the rows of picnic tables.
She focused on the pair of men and hit the shutter several times. Through the viewfinder, she studied McKinley. He had a deep tan, curly golden hair, sparkling teeth, and wore a ski jacket, pants, and ski boots. A pair of waterproof gloves rested on the table by his pretzel.
He broke off a piece of pretzel and washed it down with a swallow of beer. He spoke a few words, and Harrington nodded then they continued to eat. Their lack of interaction made them look like they were simply two strangers who’d happened to sit down beside each other. The long rows of tables meant that different parties often sat beside each other, politely ignoring each other. But it couldn’t be coincidence that the two men were seated across from each other, no matter how disinterested they seemed.
She meandered back around the far side of the building then took a few more pictures from the other angle to ensure that she had both of the men’s faces clear in the pictures. As she watched, McKinley crumpled his napkin and stood. Harrington rose as well. The men cleared their trash, and Zoe blinked. Something was wrong…different. She couldn’t figure out what it was, but something had happened. Before she could pin it down, the men moved to the railing where they stood side by side.
Zoe looked at Jack. He motioned for her to stay where she was. Jack picked up their trash and dumped it in a trashcan that was close to the two men, then he went to a point farther along the railing and put his head down as if he were studying the panoramic map pinpointing all the peaks in view. The two men turned toward each other and shook hands. Zoe hit the shutter, trying to capture the image. Harrington strode away, and McKinley headed for the snack line again, which meant he was heading directly for Zoe. She faded to the right, moving to the railing where Jack met her.
They fell into step together as they followed Harrington back down to the cable car. Zoe glanced over her shoulder at McKinley. “Should we see what he does? Where he goes?”
“Looks like he’s going for another beer. No, I think we’d better stay with Harrington. When I threw away the trash, I heard a few words. McKinley said, ‘See you in Ischgl tomorrow’ then Harrington nodded.”
“They’re meeting tomorrow so Harrington can sell him the Flawless Set.” The rush of relief Zoe felt was so intense that she almost felt lightheaded for a moment.
“Well, they weren’t that specific, and I only heard a few words, but yes, I think that’s what they’re planning. I did hear what I thought was the word wire transfer.”
They hung back on the cable car platform as they waited in the line about ten people behind Harrington. Zoe had switched the camera to the review mode so she could look at the pictures she’d taken and was examining each one. The screen was tiny, so she zoomed in until the worn wood of the picnic table showed up in high definition so she could examine what the men had in front of them. Then she quickly skipped to the last photos, the one where the men were shaking hands.
“They did make a switch,” Zoe said under her breath.
The car arrived, and they crowded on, again making sure to go to the opposite side of the car from Harrington. The atmosphere of this car was different from their last ride up. While the mood going up the mountain had been one of quiet expectation, on the way down their full car contained a large group of people in ski gear who obviously knew each other and had just come off the slopes. They loudly recounted their runs, laughing and joking, in a mix of English and German. Under the cover of their chatter, Jack and Zoe chatted quietly.
“What have you got?” Jack asked.
“They traded gloves.” Zoe showed him the first photos of the men, their gloves resting on the table. “See, Harrington’s brown leather gloves are beside his food, and McKinley’s black waterproof ski gloves are beside his beer.” She went to the last photo. “But here, where they are shaking hands, Harrington has the black waterproof gloves in his hand and McKinley is tucking the leather gloves into the pocket of his ski jacket. Neither one of them had gloves on when they parted.”
“Interesting.”
“Odd. I mean, I bet it’s not even above zero at the top. I can see taking off your gloves to eat—maybe, but then why wouldn’t you put them back on? I’d certainly wear gloves if I had any.”
“You’re right. They traded.”
The short ride was over, and Zoe put the camera away as the car glided into the platform. She’d completely missed the scenery on the way down, but didn’t even care. She was so consumed with thinking about the trade that a sick feeling descended on her. “Jack, did we mess up? What if Harrington gave him the Flawless Set, right there in front of us? McKinley could have it now, and we’re at the bottom of the mountain.” There was another way down from the top, a cog railway, and there was another cable car that departed from the top of the Zugspitze that ferried skiers to the glacier and ski area slightly below the summit of the mountain. “Finding McKinley will be much harder. We don’t know when he’s coming down or what route he’ll take. We might never find him.”
They hung back again, waiting for Harrington to depart first. As he walked away through the rows of cars in the parking lot, Zoe glanced back at the cable car. “Maybe we should go back up—try to find McKinley.”
“No, we’ve got to stay with Harrington. Bird in the hand and all that. They did exchange something, but I don’t think McKinley has what we’re looking for. Why arrange to meet tomorrow in Ischgl, if the deal was done today?” Jack headed for their yellow car, which seemed to glow among all the other understated blue, gray, and black cars that filled the lot.
“Unless it’s to feed him more stuff from the other robberies,” Zoe said as they got in the car. “Harrington told us that the other gems haven’t been recovered. What if Harrington’s been holding them?”
“Then why wouldn’t he have done it now?” Jack countered as he pulled onto the road and followed the white Jetta from a good distance as it retraced its earlier route, heading back toward Garmisch.
“Because he wanted to get rid of the biggest piece, the most incriminating one first.”
“Okay, that’s possible. Here’s another scenario,” Jack said. “Harrington meets with McKinley today and McKinley gives Harrington a down payment on the Flawless Set to show he’s serious. They meet tomorrow to complete the transaction. Or, Harrington was handing off the account info—McKinley needed the account number to set up everything for a wire transfer.”
“I suppose that could have happened. And th
ey’d want to meet in person instead of exchanging information like that over the phone or in an email.”
“Right,” Jack said. “Less traceable evidence if you avoid using phones and computers. And you have the added benefit that you actually see the guy face-to-face, get a feel for him.”
Zoe sighed. “I hope it was just a preliminary meeting.”
“Either way, they’re meeting again tomorrow, so we’re not sunk. We have to stay with Harrington, but make sure he doesn’t know he’s being followed.” Jack’s words slowed with the last sentence as he frowned at the road ahead. “Except that he is being followed.”
“Did he spot us?”
“No, someone else is following him. See that gray hatchback? It’s been on his tail since he left the cable car parking lot.”
“Could be a coincidence, I suppose,” Zoe said, thinking about the map. “There’s only one road coming back from the cable car. The cars have to follow this same route.”
They reached the main road, and Harrington’s right blinker came on as he made the turn and headed toward Garmisch. The gray hatchback didn’t pause or signal, just accelerated into the turn as if trying to keep as little space between the two cars as possible. “Not doing a good job of being inconspicuous, are they?” Zoe said.
“No, tailgating is generally frowned upon as a following technique.”
“Maybe they’ve figured that out,” Zoe said. “They’re dropping back. No, wait—” she paused, then sucked in a breath. The driver of the gray hatchback must have floored it because the gray car closed in on Harrington’s car in seconds. There’s going to be a wreck, flashed through Zoe’s mind, but before she could say the words, the driver of the gray hatchback veered slightly to the right, and instead of hitting the car directly in the back, the left front bumper of the gray car smashed into the rear bumper of Harrington’s car. The force of the impact sent the white car off the road in an arc toward the thick line of trees that bordered the road. Red brake lights flared and tires churned snow as the car bumped through the rough surface toward the trees.
The gray hatchback’s brake lights blazed, too. It straightened inside the lane lines then accelerated away down the dark strip of road. Harrington’s car shot through the line of trees and disappeared into the thick darkness of the forest.
“Oh my God,” Zoe said through fingers pressed to her lips.
Jack pulled to the side of the road, hit the hazard lights, and they were both out of the car and running toward the point where the tire tracks bisected the tree line.
Chapter Thirteen
If the tire tracks in the snow hadn’t made it obvious where the car had entered the trees, there was a spray of pine needles on the snow and a scrape across the trunk of one of the trees where the bark had been stripped away.
The band of trees that ran along the road was actually quite small, only stretching for a few yards to the bank of the wide, fast moving river that curved along the road. The white car rested on the embankment above a several foot drop down to the icy riverbank. The right headlight was planted in a tree trunk, and the hood of the small car was crumpled all the way to the windshield.
As they approached the car, there was no movement. They exchanged a glance as they slowed. Zoe knew Jack was thinking exactly what she was—that when Harrington saw them, everything changed. Their ability to shadow him and alert the police to the next meeting between Harrington and McKinley was gone. “We have to make sure he’s okay,” Zoe said.
“I know.” Jack moved to the driver’s side, which was dented. A long scrape ran along the entire length of the side. “The door is jammed.” Harrington sat unmoving in the driver’s seat and didn’t react to their movements outside the car.
Zoe went around the other side and tried the passenger door. It opened easily. The airbag had deployed and a fine dust swirled through the air. Harrington looked okay except for a bloody nose and he seemed disoriented, a shocked look on his face. He slowly turned his head toward Zoe, stared at her for a long moment, then blinked and touched his nose. His fingers came away bloody, and he raised his eyebrows.
“You’ve been in an accident,” Zoe said, searched the interior for something he could use to staunch the bleeding, but the car must have been a rental because it had that fresh new car smell, and there was absolutely nothing personal in the car, not even a crumpled napkin or gum wrapper.
Harrington looked around, taking in the trees and the river rushing loudly by them. “Hit and run, actually.” Harrington tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yes. We saw the whole thing.” Jack’s tone was hard and unforgiving.
Zoe shot a look at Jack over the roof of the car. Harrington looked frail and shaky, not like someone who’d masterminded an elaborate jewel heist then pinned the blame on them.
“What are we going to do?” Zoe whispered as Jack came around to the open door.
“Play it by ear,” Jack said, his attention drawn to the road, which they could see through the gaps in the trees. The traffic continued to move with an occasional vehicle sweeping by, but Jack was focused on a car that moved slower than normal.
“That’s the gray hatchback,” Zoe said. “Did they have an attack of conscience and come back to make sure everyone is okay?”
Harrington, sniffing and pressing his forearm to his nose, clambered over the gearshift and into the passenger seat. He patted around on the floorboard and under the seats while he tried to keep his chin elevated. He made a satisfied grunting sound, pulled something from under the front seat, and crawled out of the car.
“Come on.” He pushed between Zoe and Jack, gripped Zoe’s arm, and towed her deeper into the trees. “Away from the car. We need to get away from the car. In case…” Jack followed them quickly and moved to disengage Harrington’s grip, but Harrington dropped his hand, and his voice trailed off as the hatchback drew even with their yellow car.
Zoe squinted, but she couldn’t distinguish anything about the driver in the hatchback, except the person seemed to be wearing a hat or hood. Maybe a hoodie? The engine revved, and the car accelerated away.
“That wasn’t an attack of conscience.” Jack looked at Harrington.
“More like a check of their handiwork.” Harrington’s words came out choppy as he paused to breathe deeply. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Sorry. Shock. And adrenaline, I suppose. Good thing you’re here, or I wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Harrington straightened and pressed his sleeve once more to his nose experimentally, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. “Why are you here, by the way? No, never mind.” He waved his own question away. “No time for that. Let me see if the car will start.”
Jack gripped Harrington’s arm, drawing him to a halt as Harrington tried to pass him.
“The only place you’re going is with us, to talk to Alessi.”
Harrington pulled back, confused, but Jack didn’t let go. “Alessi?” Harrington asked. “I don’t understand.” His tone shifted from puzzled to affronted by the time he finished speaking, and he shot an offended glance at Jack’s firm grip on his arm.
“Colonel Alessi of the Carabinieri. You’re going to explain to him exactly how you framed us for the theft.”
“Framed you—” He peered at Jack then looked to Zoe. She had her arms crossed. Harrington went as pale as the snow piled on the evergreen branches. “Theft?” He sagged, leaning against Jack. “There’s been another one?”
“The Flawless Set.” Jack’s voice was dangerously quiet as he added, “But you already know that.”
It didn’t seem possible that Harrington could lose more color, but he did, his skin going a gray that made the blur of dried blood on his upper lip stand out even more. Harrington’s gaze skipped from Jack to Zoe. He pulled himself together, straightened and carefully disengaged from Jack, who let him go, but Zoe could see that Jack was still on alert, ready to make a move if Harrington tried to run. Of course, she didn’t think Ha
rrington would have a chance against Jack in a foot race or any other type of physical contest. Apparently, Harrington had come to the same conclusion, because he chose talking over action. “And you’re accusing me.” His tone was formal, as if he was an attorney questioning a witness at trial.
“Yes. The Carabinieri are under the impression that we are responsible, but we know we didn’t do it…”
Zoe stepped forward. “We saw you today. We know you met with McKinley, and we know about his reputation, his sideline business in stolen jewelry. We have photos of the exchange you made.”
“Oh. And you think…ah, I see.”
Harrington didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted his hand toward Zoe. Jack reacted, moving closer to her, but Harrington wasn’t threatening her, only holding out his hand. The late afternoon sunlight was fading, and it was dim under the thick canopy of pine branches, so Zoe couldn’t see what he held in his hand at first. As she took it from him, she felt the slippery surface of a waterproof fabric.
“It’s McKinley’s gloves. Well, only one,” she amended. Something heavy, weighed it down. She tilted it over her palm and a cold, glittery mass of gold and sparkling stones landed in her hand.
It was the peacock brooch that had been stolen from Rowen House. It rested in her palm, the large opal glittering and sparkling with the faintest movement of her hand. The sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds interwoven among the gold winked in the light that filtered through the trees. “But this is…” Zoe looked in confusion from the stone to Harrington, her mind racing. “You exchanged gloves.” She’d seen it with her own eyes. She had photos to prove it. “This was McKinley’s glove. Why would he give you this brooch? Was he returning it?”
“In a way,” Harrington said, watching her keenly with the same sort of encouraging, expectant gaze that her geometry teacher had fixed on her when he called on her in class.
“He couldn’t fence it? Or is it a fake?” She looked again at the dazzling piece in her palm and immediately discarded that idea. Even to her untrained eye, she could see that the workmanship was beautiful, and the stones had a radiance that surely wasn’t an imitation. Harrington said McKinley was returning the brooch…there was only one other possibility.