Last Ride on the Merry-go-round

by Judith Rochelle

  "I can tell you it's someone with enormous clout, No one should be able to see this stuff. Or even know we exist."

  Jen had no doubt about that. She remembered from years ago how highly classified everything about Ethan, Dino and the others had been. They joked about it but one night Ethan had explained why none of them could ever tell her anything about anything. Apparently they still had those contacts.

  "Can Ethan do anything about it?"

  "He's flying to Washington today to find out. He twisted some arms to get people to meet with him."

  "Wait. If he leaves the house what about Deanne? And Ethan's family?"

  "No problem. He's got two of his best men staying in the house with extra guards scheduled all around the perimeter. And he'll be back tonight."

  "Have you heard from any of your sources?” She knew he'd reached out to some people he thought could help him, people who wouldn't connect him to anything.

  He got up to refill his mug. The timer on the oven dinged and he pulled out a tray of biscuits, dumped them on a plate and brought them to the table with a jar of jam.

  "Frozen but they aren't bad,” he told her. “With butter and jam you can hardly tell them from real ones. The jam's great. A friend of mine makes it. I promise you honest food later on.” He slathered some jam on a biscuit, took a bite and leaned back. “Okay. I guess we've stumbled into a hornet's nest. A really bad one."

  "What do you mean?"

  "My information is coming out of the Middle East, and—"

  "Wait.” Jen put her mug down. “Wait, wait, wait. The Middle East? Are you kidding me?"

  "Not at all. My sources tell me that's where Van Dine picked up his information. The artifacts John Sutherland skimmed for himself are so hot they'll burn your hands if you ever touch them."

  "I don't understand. Aren't all stolen antiquities hot, as you say?” Absently she picked up a biscuit, spread some of the jam on it and took a small bite.

  "These are incendiary. Do you remember all the ink in the newspapers about the museum in Baghdad being looted of thousands of antiquities and art?"

  She nearly choked on her biscuit. “Baghdad? These pieces are stolen from Iraq? Holy shit."

  "Indeed."

  She chased the biscuit with coffee. “I can't believe John would be involved with something like that. Are you positive about this?"

  Dino grunted. “Believe me. My source is unimpeachable. He knows if he lied to me he wouldn't be breathing much longer."

  And that certainly hit her like a bucket of cold water. She dropped her biscuit. “Oh."

  "Oh, Lord. Jen. Hey, I'm sorry, cara.” He reached over and put his hand over hers. “Just an expression. Okay?"

  She forced herself to smile. She knew it was more than that, but then, she knew that about him. About all of them. She also knew they never killed except out of necessity.

  "It's okay. Better him than us, right?” She gave him a shaky grin. “So what did he tell you, exactly?"

  "That there are still more than four thousand artifacts missing from the museum. That a street dealer in Cairo has somehow managed to score some of them. A windfall for him, by the way, since his usual treasure is stolen objects from archeological digs."

  "How does this fit in with John and with the man who was killed?"

  "Van Dine was a man who dealt in information. He scouted for it and sold it to the highest bidder. He didn't care who.” He picked up another biscuit. “What my contact says Van Dine learned this time was that there's a huge ring in especially hot stolen antiquities operating in the Midwestern United States. And that their most recent acquisitions were part of the items looted from the Iraqi museum."

  For a moment Jen thought she would faint. “And this is what John was involved in?"

  Dino nodded. “I'd say so. Especially because of the location of the organization."

  "Did ... Does your friend know who these people are? Their names? Anything?"

  "Not yet, but we're working on it. Here's the problem.” He leaned forward. “While we're chasing them, they're chasing us. Apparently someone or more than one person in this organization has enough clout to dig up your past, connect you with Ethan and get his personnel file opened."

  Her jaw dropped. “But that's illegal. I don't know much about what you guys did but I read the newspapers. Covert files are never supposed to be opened except by people with the appropriate authority."

  "Yeah, well, it seems someone in their camp applied pressure to or paid off the right person. Ethan said he'd call us from Washington after his meeting with ... the person he's meeting with."

  "So what do we do in the meantime?"

  "We take all that information on the board you gave me the other night and see where we can go with it. We pull up the files on everyone on that list plus all their friends and associates and start digging through them one at a time.” He reached over to the chair next to him and pulled up another laptop, setting it on the table. “I've got an extra one of these here. How computer literate are you?"

  She grinned. “Are you kidding? I'm a graphic artist who does her own research. I could earn a merit badge in computers."

  "Good. Then let's get to work."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  This time they were meeting at a truck stop north of the city on I-75. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Mac blended in with the people huddled in booths or at the counter.

  He was on his second cup of coffee when Grant slid into the booth opposite him.

  "So where are we now?” he asked, stirring sweetener into the thick brew.

  "I shook some trees in Washington and a bunch of leaves fell out. Very interesting leaves. How'd you like to go to Key West?"

  Grant took a swallow of coffee. “Are you offering me a vacation?"

  "Only if you get the job done. But you get to stop in Tampa, first.” He slid a folder across the table. “Take a minute to look at what's inside here."

  Grant idly stirred more sugar in his coffee as he flipped through the two photos and studied the information sheet. He looked up at Mac. “Where the hell did you get these?"

  Mac gave him a humorless grin. “If I told you, I'd have to kill you. I gather you recognize them?"

  "Hell, yes. In my other life on some of my side trips to places nobody talks about, I heard of them now and then. Nobody ever, ever said a word about them. They were the toughest of the tough."

  "Does Caine know you?” Mac asked. “Would he recognize you? Or your name?"

  Grant shook his head. “Why? You sending me into the lion's den?"

  "Something like that. We think they're hiding our girl. My source says Dino Brancuzzi is Caine's closest friend. He has a marina in Key West. I've got someone checking it out right now but I don't think they've got her there. Too obvious, especially after the boat explosion. But he's got her somewhere and Caine or Brancuzzi know where."

  Grant's lip curled in a sarcastic grin. “And you want me to just walk up to...” He flipped open the folder again, “Ethan Caine's front door and start asking questions? Why are we showing our hand like this? You know we'll getting nothing from anybody."

  Mac shook his head. “I want to rattle their cage a little. Make them think we know more than we do. Force them to move her from wherever she is so we can get a chance at her. Come up with a good cover story. And after you talk to Caine, go to Key West and call this man.” He handed over a slip of paper with a cell phone number on it. “I called him as soon as I got this information. He's been checking out Brancuzzi, seeing if anything's going on down there. Scoping out the situation for you. He'll fill you in on what's happening there."

  "I hope he's good enough not to bumble around and raise any red flags."

  "He's good,” Mac snapped. “Don't worry about him. If Brancuzzi's there he'll hang out and wait for you. If he's not, my man will just be a tourist looking for a charter."

  "Do you seriously think we'll get anything out of the
se people?” he snorted. “These guys were in the game before you and I even heard about it. I'll be lucky if I'm not the one who disappears."

  "That's not my intention."

  "Then what is? It would help if I knew."

  Mac leaned forward across the table and when he spoke his voice was so cold it could have frozen water. “John Sutherland helped himself to a couple of stolen antiquities that belong to my friends. It's everyone's bad luck that the two he chose could easily get whoever has them killed."

  Grant looked at Mac quizzically. “Hotter than usual?"

  "If these people—Caine and his friends or whoever has Jennifer Sutherland—find them first, a lot of people could get buried by the government. Or worse yet, handed over to a foreign country that would love to chop them up in pieces, just so Uncle Sam can save face. That's worth taking some chances. So you do whatever it takes to flush this woman out. And do it now.” He leaned back. “You'll be well compensated, I promise you."

  "Yeah, if I live."

  "I wouldn't give this job to anyone else. You've played the same game these men have. You'll know what to do. You've done well for me so far. Don't let me down now."

  "And I suppose you want the results yesterday."

  "You got that right."

  Grant drummed his fingers on the folder for a moment, then picked it up and slid out of the booth. “I'm on my way."

  * * * *

  Jen was sure she had no appetite, what with everything that was happening, but the frozen biscuits were surprisingly good, especially with the homemade jam. They nibbled at them while they worked silently on the laptops. Dino had taken the list of names she'd rattled off to him that first night, along with the notes he'd made later on her opinions of them. He took the top half and gave her the rest.

  "It's time to dig a little deeper into these people. Find out which ones of them are involved, because you can bet at least half of them are."

  "Is that what your friends have told you?” She knew he'd been getting secure emails from his contacts he reached out to.

  "Actually only the first layer of information has been cracked. We need to dig beneath that. Check their bank accounts. Their cash flow. Their telephone records. Anything that will help us connect the dots."

  Jen was startled. “You can do that? Isn't that illegal?"

  He grinned. “Only if you get caught."

  "Then what is it you want from me?"

  "To pull up any articles you find and cross reference names. Who goes to the same parties outside the museum. Eats in the same restaurants. Gets their pictures in the newspapers together."

  "Okay. I can do that. And maybe it'll jog something in my brain I forgot."

  She had just finished the first three names on the list when the sat phone rang. Dino's side of the conversation was brief but grim, and he was frowning when he hung up.

  "More trouble?” Jen asked, her stomach doing a swan dive.

  "Could be. That was Mike. He's still at the marina."

  Jen got up to refill her coffee mug, just to give herself something to do and calm her nerves. “I assume if he called something's happened. What is it?"

  Dino refilled his own mug. “Some man he doesn't recognize has been hanging around since early this morning. Casually asking about charters. Who owns the marina. Shit like that. Damn.” He smacked his fist on the counter. “I'll be glad to hear back from Ethan as to how someone got information about us, but that won't be until later today. I told Mike to hang loose, grab a cup of coffee in the restaurant that overlooks the marina, and keep an eye on this guy. Call me if anything else sets off any alarms."

  She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “If John wasn't already dead I'd kill him myself. Look at all the people he's putting in danger with this."

  Dino gave her a brief but reassuring kiss before he sat back down. “Comes with the territory, cara. Meanwhile, let's see what we've got so far.” He picked up the yellow pad he'd been making notes on as he did his own research. “Roger Wellborn, the board chairman, definitely has to be a player. He headed the search committee that hired John, along with the wives of a Senator Mackall and a Congressman named Kressler. Also, Louis McWilliams, who it says here is the police commissioner for the city of Detroit.” He frowned. “What's a police commissioner doing on a museum board? I wouldn't think that was his cup of tea. Did we talk about him when you were first giving me the rundown?"

  "A little bit. I think I told you he's from an old Hillsborough County family with money going back to the Dark Ages. They've always supported the arts, so I guess this is his contribution. And his wife is the queen of the social register."

  "I've got him a bunch of times with Congressman Nathan Kressler and his wife.” He looked at his notes. “She's a high powered bank exec, right?"

  Jen nodded, and a piece of information jarred itself loose in her brain. “Both men belong to a private club, gentlemen only, and I use the term loosely. And yes, even in this day and age, there are some clubs that exclude women. This one's been around for two hundred years and there's so much money there no one wants to take them on."

  Dino snapped his fingers and shuffled through his notes again. “Wait a minute. I found something ... yeah, here it is. The club endowed some kind of scholarship and Kressler and McWilliams got their picture taken with Wellborn and the mayor of Detroit, someone named Sobol."

  "Yes, they're all members. I think it's called the Men's Athletic Club. Supposedly all the members, right from the beginning, played in some kind of sports in college.” She raked her fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ears. “Jesus, how could I have forgotten something like that?"

  "Did John ever talk about them? About the club? Anything at all?"

  She dusted her fingers idly over the keyboard. “I'm almost embarrassed to tell you I can't remember what we talked about. Or if we ever in fact talked about anything. How awful that sounds. But John ... I don't know. He was such a closed off person. He didn't abuse us or hurt us in any way. He was just ... there. He went to work, he came home, he went out. When he needed a decoration on his arm, I was it.” She looked up at Dino, hoping he couldn't see the pain in her eyes. “He gave me a home and Deanne his name. I guess I was grateful he never asked for much in return."

  "Maybe he needed you as much as you needed him,” Dino suggested.

  She frowned. “I don't understand."

  "You said the other night the board wanted him to be married. They liked the solid appearance of a married director. So you answered a need for him, too."

  "And I'm sure he was delighted that I didn't demand too much of him. You know, for a while I actually thought he was seeing another woman. But John's gambling took all his energy, I guess. I just didn't know about it until too late."

  "The reason I asked about the club is because that would be a logical place for those high stakes card games. Private club. Private room. No one knows anything except the people involved."

  "That means a lot of the board members had to be part of this. Setting John up so he had no choice except to help them."

  "Sounds like it."

  Jen leaned back in her chair, raking her fingers through her hair again as if she could brush away all the unpleasant thoughts. “So taking those two pieces was his little secret revenge. Maybe he planned to sell them for enough bucks to get away and start over again. With a new name?"

  "Good possibility,” Dino agreed. “Let's get back to this and see what other names we can link together. Then we're gong to take another tack."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "We're going to dismantle John's life one brick at a time. Every little thing you remember. And see if we can figure out where he would have left those two pieces. Let's see what you've come up with on your search."

  * * * *

  "Mrs. Caine?” Sean Garrett, one of the two men Ethan had left on house duty for the day, walked into the kitchen where Lisa was chopping vegetables for a salad.

  She looked up,
an expectant smile on her face. “Yes?"

  "There's a man at the gate asking for Mr. Caine. We'd like you to take a look and see if you recognize him."

  Wiping her hands on a towel, she followed Garrett to the den where the monitors were set up. A black SUV sat at the entrance gate, driver's side window rolled down.

  Sean pressed the button for the mic. “Sir, can you please look toward the camera?"

  The man in the driver's seat turned so she could see his full face. The camera did a good job. High cheekbones, thick eyebrows and a chiseled jaw. She'd never seen him before.

  "No.” She shook her head. “I have no idea who he is. Did he ask for Ethan?"

  "Says he's a private investigator on a case and he was told Mr. Caine might be able to answer some questions for him."

  Lisa looked at the monitor again. “You know Ethan never answers anyone's questions. Especially some private investigator. What's his name?"

  "He identified himself as Mark Winslow but that could be as phony as he is."

  "Can you send one of the men down to talk to him? Someone who can figure out who he really is and what he wants?"

  "No problem. I'll do it. But you and the kids sit tight in the house. I'll get someone up here with you.” He unclipped his radio from his belt and depressed the Talk button. “Frank? Come on up and spend some time with Mrs. Caine, okay? I'm going down to the gate with Jake."

  Frank was there in under a minute. He herded Jamie, who was doing his homework, into the kitchen with Lisa, then sat down at the kitchen table.

  "You'll hardly know I'm here, folks,” he told them.

  Lisa laughed. “Yeah, right. It's okay, Frank, How about some coffee?"

  "Sure. That'll be fine."

  "All right.” Sean checked the clip in his gun and reholstered it. Jake, who was waiting for him in the hallway, did the same.

  "Is someone after us, Mom?” Jamie asked, dumping his homework on the table. For a ten-year-old he sounded remarkably calm. But then, not everyone his age had suffered a kidnapping and a race through the jungle.

  "No. But you know what your dad said about strangers."

  Deanne was looking from one adult to the other, then back at Jamie. “Is someone going to hurt us?"