I still didn’t see the point of it. Unless Peck had been right and there was some connection between the couple and the robber that he thought too obvious to risk exposing.
“Do you have any ideas who might have robbed you?” I asked. “Or if there might have been any connection between the couple who came in, and the robbery?”
“How could there be, when he shoot that man?” Rojas demanded.
I exchanged a look with Joe Marcus, saw no enlightenment in his face either. Perhaps I needed to get Parker Armstrong digging on the French pair to see what he could come up with.
We got to our feet. Marcus reached a hand to Rojas, who clasped it again briefly, and did the same with mine.
“Well, thank you for your time and your patience, Mr Rojas,” Marcus said. “We hope - ”
“What in the name of hell is going on here?” said an annoyed voice from the doorway. Commander Peck came striding into the room and stopped dead when he caught sight of the man in the chair, his head bruised and still swathed in dressings.
“Ah, Commander Peck, is it not?” Rojas said, and there was a rueful note to his smile. “My name is Santiago Rojas. I believe you want to speak with me.”
“Mr Rojas,” Peck returned, so stiffly it made his treatment of us seem positively effusive. Enmity rolled off him like cold air from an open fridge door.
“You must excuse us, Mr Marcus, Miss Fox,” Rojas said then, a bitter smile curving his swollen lips. “I’m afraid the commander and I have some … history together, is that not right?”
Peck said nothing.
Rojas laughed. “The good commander works long hours,” Rojas went on, “and his wife is a lonely and attractive woman.” He shrugged as far as he was able. “Our … friendship was over some time ago, but I think I am not yet forgiven.”
Peck forced some of the rigidity out of his shoulders and jaw. “Our personal … differences will not prevent me from doing my job,” he ground out. “You can be assured of that.”
Twenty-seven
“We’re working in the dark,” Marcus said when we were outside and heading for the Bell.
“You should be used to that in your job,” I said, which raised the beginnings of a smile that never made it any further. “Why don’t you check with your sources - see what they have to say?”
“My sources?”
“You found out all the gory details about me fast enough after I arrived,” I pointed out mildly. “You must have a good source of intel somewhere along the line.”
“Good, yes,” he agreed. “Sporadic, also. And right now my ‘source’ as you call him, is on deployment and out of regular cellphone contact.”
“Well, it’s fortunate that my source is sitting by his phone in New York,” I said. “I can ask my boss to do some digging on this if you want?”
“We talking about Sean Meyer?” he demanded. “Or Parker Armstrong?”
My hesitation was only fractional. “Parker.”
He regarded me for a moment and I could see the pros and cons circulating behind those stony eyes before he said, “Do it.”
I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and hit the speed dial number for Parker’s direct line. He picked up on the third ring - a slow response for him.
“Charlie, how’s it going?”
“Fairly quiet,” I said, which he knew meant the opposite. I watched Joe Marcus walk over to Riley, who was fussing with the tensioning of the winch he’d reinstalled. “You got anything for me?”
“We looked into the girl,” he said cautiously. “No record, not even a parking ticket. Although as she doesn’t have a driving licence maybe that’s not so hard to believe. No late payments, no final demands, no credit card. The kid’s practically a ghost.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Can I ask you to take another run at that?”
I almost heard his ears prick up. “Ah. Developments?”
“On that front, yes and I’ll fill you in when I can,” I said. “But there have been other developments, too.” And I told him briefly about the robbery of Santiago Rojas’s store, the dead French couple, and the intruder at the mortuary who’d stolen their IDs - and whose ribs I’d busted.
“This sounds like the kind of thing the local LEOs should be handling,” Parker said when I was done. “It’s way outside your remit.”
“You know the scope of my remit as well as I do, Parker,” I countered. “Besides, there was no forced entry into the mortuary - ”
“Which means we can’t rule out an inside job,” he finished for me wearily. “Yeah, OK. I’ll do what I can.”
“Besides which,” I added, “I don’t entirely trust the local head honcho. For a while I thought he might even be our intruder. I can rule him out personally, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t get one of his boys to indulge in a bit of Breaking and Entering on the side. I can’t go around hugging all of them to find out.”
I still had my eyes on Joe Marcus, apparently shooting the breeze with Riley, both of them casual and relaxed. But just as Parker’s voice in my ear asked, “So, are they still … treating you OK?” both men seemed to glance over in my direction at the same time. The look they gave me was anything but warm and fuzzy.
“For the moment at least,” I said carefully. “Which is lucky really, because if they decide I need to follow in my predecessor’s footsteps, so to speak, I don’t think I’d get much backup from the local cops.”
“Are you trying to give me grey hair, Charlie?”
“Parker, your hair’s been grey practically since you were in short trousers - I’ve seen the pictures.”
“Yeah, and that means I don’t want it to start falling out from stress,” he returned. “Watch your step and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, OK?”
I ended the call and ambled towards Riley and Marcus. Riley was wiping his hands on an old rag while the former Marine had donned a pair of heavy gloves and was trying the winch line to make sure it ran out and retracted smoothly.
“Well?” Marcus wanted to know as soon as I reached them.
“He’s checking,” I said. “As soon as I know anything I’ll pass it on.”
He gave a grumpy kind of a sigh at that, as though he’d heard such promises many times before and knew they rarely came to fruition.
“OK, Riley,” he called to the Bell pilot. “We’re good to go.”
“Hop in then, mate,” Riley said with a grin. “Now I’ve got the winch hunky dory I can set you down any place you fancy.”
Marcus glanced at me. “Well, Charlie? You up for finding out what happened to that gun?”
I shrugged. “What’s so important about this one? There must be thousands of weapons loose in this city right now.”
“Thousands? Maybe,” he agreed, “but not many we know for certain have been used as a murder weapon.”
“There are plenty with the potential to kill far more.”
“Maybe,” he repeated. “You have that same potential but I’m not chasing you.”
I opened my mouth to voice another objection then closed it again. Joe Marcus was suddenly very insistent to go back to the scene of the crime and all of a sudden I could think of several reasons for that which had nothing to do with a missing gun. What better way to find out?
I climbed into the back of the Bell without comment. It meant I couldn’t see their faces easily. At least I didn’t have the former Marine sitting behind me. Marcus took the co-pilot’s seat. It wasn’t until we were in the air that I spoke into the boom mic attached to my headset.
“If he got away clear before the quake hit, there won’t be any weapon to find.”
Marcus looked back over his shoulder. “And if he didn’t?”
“Then Hope and Lemon would have found his body.”
Marcus tilted his head and his mouth twitched. “They’re good, Charlie, but they’re not infallible.”
“In that case,” I said carefully, “I don’t suppose this additional search might have anything to do with a b
ag of missing diamonds, would it?”
This time Joe Marcus didn’t turn his head so I couldn’t see his expression. He and the Aussie didn’t even glance at each other. After a moment Marcus said, “If it’s missing, that means it can be found.”
“Possibly a lot of money’s worth there.” I tried to keep my voice casual, as if I were seriously considering this. “You thinking there might be a reward?”
“Possibly.” He echoed me in both tone and caution.
I pursed my lips even though he couldn’t see me, knowing it would affect my voice just the same. “Slim chance,” I said. “Do you honestly think Rojas has had time to even report the robbery yet? The man’s still in hospital. He hasn’t been back to the store to do an inventory - even if he was allowed near the place, never mind inside.”
“I’m sure they take that into account.”
“Will they? Or will they simply declare this whole mess an Act of God or whatever the terminology is and void everyone’s insurance?”
“For property damage, they might,” Marcus returned, “but according to Rojas the robbery took place before the earthquake hit. In theory he’d still be covered.”
“Yeah, because we all know how honest and fair-dealing insurance companies are,” I said sarkily.
I caught his smile, a flash of surprisingly white teeth. “You always look on the downside, Charlie?”
“It’s part of my job description.” I paused, decided to edge this forward just a touch. “Rojas said he was waiting for a big shipment that was delayed,” I added, aiming for a note of calculation. “You really think there’s enough out there to get excited about?”
Marcus shrugged, not taking the bait. “Let’s see if we can find the gun first and talk about anything else later.”
Damn. Ah well, may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb …
“Why don’t you put your cards on the table, Joe,” I said. “Are you thinking of handing those gems in for the reward - assuming there is one - or are you thinking instead of not handing them in at all?”
It took him a beat or two before he answered. “I can think of a whole heap of better uses for them than left lying around in the street.”
It was within a hairsbreadth of an admission, but not quite all the way there yet. I knew I needed to push just that little bit further.
“So, how many ways are you thinking of splitting it?”
Again came the little tilt of his head. The one that told me nothing. “This was your idea, Charlie, not mine,” he said. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Hey, I’m just the newbie,” I said with as much unconcern as I could muster. “How do you usually work it?”
Marcus was silent for a moment, then said with icy disdain, “I wonder what the illustrious Mrs Hamilton would have to say about your suggestion. But I’ll wager this was not quite what she had in mind when she went to Armstrong-Meyer for Stephens’ replacement.”
“If you kids can stop haggling long enough to grab your gear,” Riley cut in from the pilot’s seat, “we’re coming up on your search location now.” There was little to be gleaned from his voice to know if he was for or against the idea of keeping the missing gems.
“Set us down where you can,” Joe Marcus said, turning all business once again. I cursed long and silently behind a bland expression. If he knew who had gone to Parker, and why, then I was probably blown from the start. No wonder Riley had tried to shake me off the skid of the Bell on the very first day.
The Aussie made another deceptively casual landing and was in the air again as soon as we’d jumped down into the rubble. He hovered through our standard radio checks, then moved off with a jaunty wave through the canopy.
I returned the salute and watched him surf the rooftops until the Bell disappeared from view. As the thrum of the rotors began to fade into the distance I started to turn back to Joe Marcus. And as I did so I heard the unmistakable harsh metallic click of the slide being racked back to chamber the first round into the breech of a semiautomatic.
Twenty-eight
I completed my turn very slowly and found Joe Marcus with that big Colt .45 in his hands again. The only thing that kept my heartrate from going stratospheric was the fact the gun wasn’t pointing at me.
Marcus was wearing a loose shirt over khaki cargoes but I hadn’t picked up any sense that he was armed. Which meant either he was really good, or I was slipping. And as before I knew that he didn’t carry just for show - he was more than capable of using.
The SIG sat snug in the small of my back under my own shirt. I knew I could get to it quickly but not quickly enough.
“You expecting to repel boarders?” I asked with a calm I did not feel.
He stared at me for a moment with no humour in his face. I fought to keep my shoulders easy and my hands relaxed by my sides. Then he tucked the Colt away under his shirt again and moved past me.
“No point in carrying a weapon that isn’t ready to shoot,” he said. He paused, found me still frozen. “You coming or what?”
“‘What’, probably,” I muttered and followed him.
We picked our way over the rubble until we turned into the street where Lemon had found Santiago Rojas. Another building had partially come down during the night. We were getting perhaps half a dozen aftershocks a day, some worse than others. Unless they threatened to throw me off my feet I tended to ignore them. How quickly we learn to be blase.
“So, if we’re searching for something specific why didn’t you bring Hope along?”
Marcus stepped across an eighteen-inch gap in the road surface without apparent concern.
“It’s not exactly Lemon’s specialty,” he said.
“Oh I don’t know. Hope reckons once that dog’s had a sniff of just about anything she can find it again.”
“Yeah, well, they both do enough to earn their keep,” Marcus said with a flick of irritation in his voice. “And maybe I don’t want to expose the kid to danger unnecessarily.”
“She’s an adult, as she’s only too ready to point out. She’s capable of making her own choices.” I thought of the gems I’d seen Hope inspecting in the privacy of her room and added silently, however poor some of those choices might be.
He hesitated and a dark flicker crossed his features. “In many ways she’s still a child. And she’s on my team - my responsibility.”
That hesitation made me curious. Time to push it again, gun or no gun.
“So, do you take responsibility for her actions too?”
Joe Marcus stopped then, turned to look back at me with his head tilted in a manner I was coming to know well. For a moment I thought I might be getting somewhere.
“Might be easier if we split up,” he said then. “Keep your radio on. If you find anything, call me.”
“Likewise.”
“Of course.”
I watched him walk away, hopping nimbly over tumbled blockwork and daggers of broken glass still fettered to their twisted wooden frames.
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “I bet you will …”
I headed for the nearest cross-street, a wider main road that bisected the tourist district. From there I cut down the service road running behind Rojas’s jewellery store. In the mouth of the narrow street I halted, trying to get a feel for my quarry’s train of thought.
The main road would have been a faster escape route for our gem thief but it was also more exposed. If I’d been him I would have stuck to the alleyways until I was well clear, but if he had enough bottle he could have shed his mask and gloves, disguised his booty in a brightly coloured shopping bag and strolled away like any other tourist. A studied lack of urgency would have proved very effective camouflage.
And this was a man, after all, who had robbed a high-end jewellery store, alone in broad daylight. Surely he must have known that as soon as he was out of the door Rojas would be straight on the phone to the cops - whatever his relationship with Peck might have been.
Ah.
Unless, of course, the unlucky Frenchman was not the only person the robber had been intending to leave behind him dead.
Logic told me the man was long gone but that didn’t stop me from reaching very quietly under the back of my shirt and easing the pistol grip of the SIG into my palm. It said something about what my life had become that I always felt better with a gun in my hand.
Maybe that was one of the many things that had driven Sean away.
I shook my head as if to dispel flies. Now was not the time. When is?
Besides, the unknown robber was not the only person who might have a reason for wanting me out of the way.
I approached the shadowed service road in the same way I would a live-firing Close Quarter Battle range, moving quiet and cautious. I put my feet down with great care, making sure each step was solid before I trusted my weight to it, just in case I had to launch for cover. I led with the gun in both hands, my right forefinger close but off the trigger. Aware of their precarious nature I avoided hugging the buildings too much, instead spending as much time with my eyes on possible hiding places as searching the ground.
Nobody leapt out at me and I found nothing.
I had almost reached the end and was already mentally tossing a coin for right or left when the radio came to life in my earpiece.
“Charlie, you read me?”
I settled the SIG into my right hand and reached for the transmit button with my left.
“I’m here, Joe. Go ahead.”
His next transmission was indistinct. I halted, frowning, thumbed up the volume on my handset.
“Say again?”
“I asked if you were due east of our insertion point?” His voice came over louder this time but I got the impression he was speaking softly.
I took a few paces forward so I was just out of the service road and glanced up at the sun, shielding my eyes. After some quick ready reckoning of direction I hit transmit again, swinging round as I did so. After the relative gloom of the service road it was uncomfortably bright out there.
“Negative. More like southwest.”
“In that case - ”
He never got to finish whatever he’d been about to say. At that moment a high-pitched whine zinged past my ear. The brickwork within a couple of feet of where I’d been standing disintegrated with a sharp, vicious crack.
Zoe Sharp - [Charlie Fox] Page 12