“Oh, this? No. Just a mishap on a flight of stairs. It happens.”
The banker checked Matt’s ID card and they moved to the scanner. Matt held his hand against the screen. The manager pushed a button and a neon green light rolled down the length of his palm. After several seconds, the vault door clicked as the bolts drew back.
“I trust you recall where your box is located. Will you be needing any further assistance?” the manager asked.
“No, we’re good. Thanks for your help,” Tara said with a sunny smile that seemed to melt the little man somewhat. He returned it and gave Matt a look of thinly veiled envy as they walked across the vault threshold.
“To exit, simply repeat the scanning process on the wall unit inside the vault corridor,” the banker said and closed the heavy steel door behind them with a solid thunk.
“All right. Let’s get this over with. Lead the way. Are there any cameras in here?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Let’s hope you’re being truthful. It won’t go well for you if you’re not.”
“So I’ve heard.”
When they arrived at the vault, Tara pushed Matt forward.
“Which one’s yours?”
He pointed at a box near the floor in a long bank of compartments. “That one.”
“Open it.”
Matt approached the box and stopped. “Damn. I completely blanked on that.”
“What?” Tara demanded.
“The key. I don’t have it. It’s back in Mendoza.”
“You don’t have the key? Is this a joke?” Tara hissed.
“I wish it was. I didn’t have a lot of time to get my emergency kit, what with being thrown off the balcony and all. Maybe you should have thought this through better. I can’t make the damn thing appear out of thin air, much as I’d like to.”
“What about the manager?”
“They don’t have keys to the boxes. For the clients’ protection. That way they can’t be accused of impropriety. If you lose your key, they have to call a locksmith and supervise the opening and re-keying while the customer’s there. They warn you about that when you open the account.”
“Well, that’s just great.” Her eyes roamed over the room, checking for cameras. She pointed to the far corner and removed her gun from her purse. “Go stand over there.”
“You have a marvelous way with words, as always, Tara,” Matt said, but complied.
“Don’t move an inch, or I’ll shoot you,” she said and then retrieved her lock-picking kit and knelt in front of the box. “The good news is these boxes are really old, so the locks are fairly primitive. I can get it open.”
“You’ll need both hands.”
“If you want to test how fast my reflexes are, Matt, that would be a great way to do it. I’m going to bet I can get my gun back in my hand and have three slugs in you before you could make it halfway across the room. Are you feeling particularly lucky today?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Good answer.”
She set her weapon on the concrete floor and unzipped the little kit and, after studying the lock, set to work with two of the picks. Forty seconds later, she twisted the lock open and picked up her gun. “Stay there.”
“You’re going to do this? Not me?”
“Just in case you have a gun in the box. Call it a hunch, Matt.”
“I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”
She slid the drawer out of the box and opened the metal lid, then nodded to herself as she pushed a Smith & Wesson double-action semiautomatic .45 caliber pistol out of the way and pulled a black velvet bag from the compartment. She hefted it in her free hand and dropped it into her purse.
“Doesn’t feel like sixty-million worth of stones.”
“Those are the highest value diamonds. Best clarity and color, and the largest. Doesn’t take nearly as many to add up,” Matt lied.
“They better, for your sake. There’s an agency gemologist flying to Buenos Aires as we speak. He’ll be on the ground soon, and he’ll be able to quickly verify whether you’re holding out on us.”
“What would be the point?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t trust you.”
“At least we’ve got that going for us. Maybe there’s a chance after all.”
“If you’re trying to screw me, I’ll make sure that your final hours are a hell on earth you can’t imagine.”
“You obviously haven’t spent months in the mountains of Laos living on rats and grubs.”
“What I’ll do to you will make that look like a hot oil massage.”
Matt silently debated making his move there, while the door was closed. Tara was likely to be more careless now that she had the stones. She must have seen something in his eyes, because she quickly replaced the drawer with one hand, keeping her gun trained on him with the other. She didn’t bother to relock the box, preferring to close the door and stand, her pistol unfalteringly trained on Matt’s torso as she scooped up the lock-picking kit and slid it into her purse. “Lead the way out. Nice and easy,” she ordered.
“I really thought we’d built some trust here. I thought we had something special.”
“Move.”
Matt did as he was told. When the scanner opened the vault door again, Tara shouldered her purse strap and eased the gun back into it, finger on the trigger.
“What now?” Matt asked.
“Head for the front door. Slowly. We’re in no hurry. Just a happy couple that’s finished with their errand.”
They walked to the bank entrance and pushed through the doors, Matt in front of Tara. Carl and Isaac were standing together at the curb, the Land Rover nowhere to be seen. Matt watched as Tara’s attention shifted to them. She asked when the last time the vehicle had been by and he moved his good hand to the one in the cast, where the slim blade of the knife he’d slipped inside in Mendoza lay warm against his skin. This was his chance – it was doubtful he’d get another one – and he could make a break for it in the chaos that would greet his attacking Tara, hopefully with her blood spraying everywhere, if he still had decent moves.
A kit of pigeons alighted from the plaza across the way, all gray and white and black feathers as they flapped into the sky in alarm. His fingers felt the handle and pulled it from the cast just as a big engine roared down the street with a screech of tortured rubber. Time seemed to freeze as the wide grill of a big green SUV bore down on them, moving too fast for him to get out of the way.
Chapter 28
Jet caught Julian’s eye in the rearview mirror as they slowly crawled toward the city center, the streets still sluggish. Strikers wandered the sidewalks carrying blue and white Argentine flags and signs demanding better wages and an end to government malfeasance. They’d been gridlocked for almost an hour, but for the last fifteen minutes had been inching forward as the city limped back to life, taking the disruption the demonstration had caused in easy stride.
“How much further?”
Julian calculated quickly. “About ten blocks. At the rate we’re going, maybe seven or so minutes. Oh. Wait. Up ahead it seems to be moving a little better.”
Paco turned from his position in the passenger seat and looked at her. “What do you want to do when we get there?”
“I think we have to play it by ear. We have no way of knowing whether they’ve gotten there yet.”
“Or whether they’ve been there and gone,” Paco said quietly.
“That’s always a risk. But I can’t see them being too much ahead of us, unless they had a helicopter drop them in front. Plus, if Matt is smart, he’ll stall as long as possible once he’s inside.”
“Why? Do you think he knows you’re coming for him?”
“He might suspect, but no, it’s because once he gives them what they want, he knows they’ll kill him. So the longer he delays, the longer he lives, the longer he has a chance, even if it’s a slim one, to escape.”
They rolled relentlessly fo
rward, traffic thinning as they neared the bank. Jet leaned forward and pointed through the windshield. “There. Up ahead. That’s her. And look! There’s Matt by the entrance.” She whipped her Glock from her belt.
Julian nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
She watched Tara approach the two men and made a snap decision. “Floor it and run them down.”
“Are you serious?”
Paco held up the Berretta and checked his seat belt. “She’s dead serious.”
“I hope you two know what you’re doing…”
Jet braced herself against the back of the passenger seat with her feet as Julian gave the big V8 engine full throttle. The heavy vehicle lunged forward like an enraged bull and they hurtled toward the group by the front entrance. They covered the distance in a blink and the SUV jumped the curb. The body of one of the two men with Tara flew over the hood and smashed face-first into the windshield with a wet smack, shattering the glass and leaving a bloody smear as Julian stood on the brakes.
Tara saw the big Chevrolet lurch toward them out of the corner of her eye and leapt backward just as the front fender caught Isaac and threw him over the hood. Carl fell to the side as the bumper struck his thigh, shattering his femur with a sickening crack. His face went white from shock and he went down, his arm hitting Tara as he dropped, knocking her purse out of her hands and sending it tumbling to the sidewalk.
The purse bounced once on the sidewalk. The diamond bag tumbled out and split open, loosing a shimmering wave of sparkling stones that skittered across the cement and into the gutter. She took in the disaster as she stumbled backward. She sensed Matt behind her moving toward her and spun just as a steak knife blade slashed across her torso, cutting through her jacket and gashing her side. Tara ignored the pain and brought her arm down across his wrist and hit the pressure point straight on, causing him to drop the knife as his hand went numb.
Tara debated slamming the heel of her hand into Matt’s nose and driving the cartilage into his brain, but heard the door of the SUV open and opted for survival rather than a bloody last stand. She spun and sprinted toward her purse, but changed her mind when Carl’s gun barked twice, followed by a volley of shots from the SUV. Tara darted into the street in front of a motorcycle with a gelato delivery box on the back and drove her elbow into the rider’s throat as he skidded to avoid her. He crumpled, and the bike went sliding down the street. She dodged a swerving sedan that was standing on its horn, its brakes locked up and its tires smoking the pavement. When she reached the motorcycle, she pulled the rider off, raised it back onto its wheels, and straddled the seat as she twisted the throttle.
One of Paco’s rounds hit Carl squarely in the chest and he dropped his gun. He twitched twice and then lay still on the sidewalk amidst a wash of diamonds. Jet got free of her seat belt and threw her door open just as Tara knocked the motorbike off course. She drew a bead on her back and squeezed the trigger, but a sedan blocked the shot and her round smashed through its rear window, shattering it and sending the car into a skid.
The whine of the motorcycle’s engine cleaved through the mayhem as a delivery van braked to a halt behind the sedan to avoid ramming it, obstructing her view. By the time she darted past it, Tara was zigzagging down the street on the motorcycle, out of range. Jet cursed and fired several shots at her, but knew the chances of a hit were remote. One of the slugs tore through the delivery box, sending a spray of caramel gelato into the air as Tara rounded a corner, and then she was gone.
Jet turned. “Matt! Are you okay?” she asked, running to where he knelt on the sidewalk, trying to retrieve some of his diamonds with his numb hand.
He looked up at her. “Never better. Just don’t ask me to try any sign language. I’m afraid both of my mitts are out of commission,” he said, clumsily dropping a few stones into his pocket with barely responsive fingers.
Their heads swiveled at the sound of a siren from several blocks away. Jet moved back to the Suburban, where Paco was in the front seat, kicking the windshield out so Julian would be able to see. “Let’s get out of here. Julian. Get going,” she yelled as she pulled Matt to his feet.
Matt shook his head. “But the diamonds…”
“Leave them. Or get shot by trigger-happy Argentine cops. And try to explain two dead men.”
Matt glanced at Carl’s body and reached down to retrieve his weapon. “Doesn’t look like he’ll be needing this, does it?”
“Jump in the back with me. We’re out of time. Julian, drive,” Jet commanded as she threw herself through the rear door. Matt followed her in and Julian dropped the Suburban into reverse. Isaac’s glass-covered form slid off the hood, leaving a red streak on the green metal as Julian slid the transmission into drive and put his foot into it. They rocketed away from the curb, past the stopped van and a collection of cars that had ground to a halt. Julian had a wild look in his eyes, not quite panic, but not far off.
“Where do you want me to go?” he demanded.
“Hang a right here. First thing, lose the cops. Go wherever you think we’ll have the best chance of doing that,” Paco said.
“I’ll head to San Telmo,” Julian said.
“Good idea.”
More sirens joined the first. Jet and Matt exchanged worried glances. They took a left two streets farther up.
Jet grabbed Paco’s shoulder. “We need to get out of this car and let Julian ditch it somewhere. It’s got bullet holes in the door and no windshield. The police will have a description from the other vehicles pretty quickly.”
“She’s right,” Julian agreed. “I’ll drop you off up at the next block. Go down into the Underground and take the first train to anywhere.”
Paco nodded. “All right. I’ll call you later.”
“You owe me a car.”
“This is yours?”
“No. It’s stolen. But it cost me five thousand dollars on the black market. I wanted something untraceable.”
“I’m good for it,” Paco said. “You know that.”
“Not at this rate. You don’t have nine lives.”
“I said I’m good for it.”
Julian skidded to a stop. “The Underground station is over a block, at Diagonal Norte. There are two lines. Good luck.”
Jet, Matt, and Paco jumped out and Julian roared away as though the devil were hot on his heels. Paco led them at a trot through the crowd of pedestrians and then abruptly slowed when he saw two police officers across the street, one of them on his radio. Neither of the cops was looking in their direction, but he knew that sudden movement, different than the throng’s natural flow, would attract their attention.
“What is it?” Matt asked.
“Police. Don’t look. Just move along like nothing’s wrong. Try to act natural.”
Jet took Matt’s hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, the perfect picture of an affectionate couple as Paco walked ahead of them, seeming to stride slowly but putting distance between them. He turned onto a pedestrian-only street, both sides clogged with shoppers perusing the lines of shops on either side, and stopped in front of a discount clothing store. He spun to face Matt and Jet and indicated the shop with his head.
“I’m going to get a different color shirt and some shorts. I’d suggest you find a ladies’ shop and do the same. Any description will be of us wearing these clothes.”
“Good idea. And hats. Oh, and Paco…can you get a cell phone? Do you have money?”
“It might be a little damp, but yes, I’ve got plenty. I’ll meet you in ten at the Underground station.”
“You got it.”
Three stores down they found a suitable establishment where Jet quickly selected a brown long-sleeved blouse and a pair of camouflage cargo pants. She changed into them in the dressing room while Matt paid the teen manning the register after handing him the tags.
When she emerged from the booth, she looked like a different person.
Matt nodded approvingly. “You need a hat,” he said a
nd tossed her a khaki baseball cap. She put it on and grabbed him a black DC Shoes flat-brimmed skater hat. He donned it, inspected himself in the mirror, and grinned. “Perfect.”
“Let’s get you a jacket, and we’re done,” Jet said. They found another store and bought a navy blue Adidas lightweight jogging jacket that was a reasonable fit. He pulled on the one sleeve and pulled the other over his shoulder, leaving the cast beneath it as he zipped the bottom closed.
“What’s the plan after we get to the Underground?” Matt asked.
“Put some distance between us and the scene of the crime, and figure out what we do next.”
“Thanks for saving my ass, by the way. I don’t think I had much longer.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“Who’s your new friend?”
“Paco?” She explained as they walked to the station, finishing with the jet downing. Matt’s eyes widened.
“Wait. So you were in a plane that got shot down? Just a few hours ago? You’re not making this up?”
“Do I look like I’m in a fun mood, Matt?”
He studied her green eyes. “You always look kind of fun to me…”
“I’m better when I haven’t had to start my morning swimming through muddy water after a missile strike.”
“That would definitely make me cranky.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Where’s Hannah?”
“At Sofia’s. She’s watching her for us.”
Matt slowed. “You know we’ll never be safe with Tara out there. We need to find her.”
“I know. Any idea where she might have gone?”
“I have an address.”
It was Jet’s turn to look surprised. “You’re kidding.”
“No. I overheard her on the phone. She’s working with some local criminal. Dante something or other, I heard her say.”
“Dante. There’s that name again.”
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