by Ellen Butler
“Wow. I had no idea,” I murmured.
“By the way,” Rick said to me, “your jeweler is on the move with Jin tailing him. Jin’s working with a D.C. detective from major crimes to make the bust.”
“Do you think Tazim is going to sell the diamonds now?” I asked.
“Time is running out to pay his bill. He’s already had a taste of what they’ll do. I don’t imagine he wants to test them.” Rick’s unusual gray eyes were as hard as slate.
“If they catch him, then Sadira will be released.”
Nobody replied.
Twisting the ring on my middle finger, I continued, “I need to see her before they let her loose. I think she may have information. She’s got to have something that can help us. Can someone take me?” My neck rotated back and forth as I waited for Rick or Josh to volunteer. “Or I can call an Uber, if you prefer.”
“I’ll take you.” Rick’s granite gaze focused past me on Hernandez as he spoke, “Why don’t you and Joshua go in and get us all something to eat before we leave?”
I flinched at the thought of putting something in my stomach. “I’m not hungry.”
“C’mon, Karina,” Josh said, opening his door, “it may be a long night, and you never know when we’ll get a chance to eat. Any special requests?”
“Burger, fries, Coke and a chocolate shake,” Hernandez reeled off.
“Burger and a coffee.” Rick stepped back and helped me out of the van.
I slung my purse over my shoulder and led Josh into the busy restaurant. “What’s Rick talking to Hernandez about?”
“What do you mean?”
I slid him a slit-eyed glower. “Josh, the one thing you’ve never done is treat me like a fool. Please don’t start now.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Then tell me.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Of course, I do.”
He cleared his throat and said softly, “They’re discussing the likelihood of finding her alive.”
The glowing menu wavered in front of me. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Nothing. Anything. You pick,” I mumbled, stumbling out of line, past a handful of patrons. After locking myself in a stall, my stomach debated whether or not I needed to vomit. The moment passed, and I sat down on the toilet instead. Rubbing my temples, I rocked back and forth, humming quietly while drawing deep breaths and counting the black and gray floor tiles. Keep it together, keep it together. I had no doubt, if I lost my shit, Rick would pack me off and stash me in some sort of safe house until this was all over, just so he wouldn’t have to manage a hysterical female on top of everything else.
My phone rang, and I fumbled, pulling it out of my purse. Rodrigo, grinning and holding up the peace sign, stared back at me. I tapped ignore. Twenty seconds later a text came across.
Are you okay?
Fine.
Are you coming to happy hour?
Don’t think I’ll make it. Friend in need. Drink one for me.
Ok. Let me know if there is anything I can do.
If only there was something he could do. Jessica’s voicemail message blinked at me, but I couldn’t face it. I washed my hands, splashed some water on my face, and rejoined the group back at the van.
Someone had opened the side door, and Hernandez was accepting a fast-food bag passed to him by Josh. He saw me and asked, “Everything all right, pequeña ave?”
“Fine.” I produced a wan smile, absentmindedly accepting my bag of food and soda.
“Josh and Hernandez are following a couple of leads while we visit Sadira,” Rick stated.
I nodded. “Do you have one of those earbud thingies for me, so I can stay in the loop?”
Hernandez gave Rick the side-eye.
Rick didn’t blink. “I’m afraid we don’t have any more on hand. I’ll try to arrange one for you.”
“Sure.” Somehow, I doubted I’d be seeing an earbud any time soon as Rick probably wanted the coms to stay private between them. I took my food and climbed into his passenger seat while the boys finished their pow-wow.
The leather bucket seat squeaked as I shifted around and checked out the old-fashioned dashboard with the original radio. The French fry I chewed held no flavor, and I had trouble forcing the bite down my throat. Giving up, I placed the bag at my feet. The diet soda wasn’t much better. I might as well have been drinking battery acid. The classic car didn’t have the convenience of modern day cupholders, so I placed the drink between my legs. Restless and edgy, I drummed my fingers against my thigh. The big silver glovebox button caught my eye. It dropped down to reveal some papers and a compact, semiautomatic Ruger. Fairly certain it was the same pistol Rick had offered to me a few months ago after Rivkin had broken into my home, I closed the compartment with a gentle click.
Doors slammed, Rick got in, and the van rolled away.
“I pictured you as a pickup truck type of guy,” I commented.
“It’s back at the house,” he told me, then sipped his fast-food black coffee and placed it between his legs.
“Do you have a house? I thought you lived in a cave—with Alfred.”
That comment received a single raised brow and the dry response, “I live in a loft-style apartment.” The car rumbled to life and we rolled out of the parking lot.
“What kind of car is this?”
“Ford Torino four-twenty-nine Cobra Jet.”
“That’s kind of a mouthful. I’m assuming four-twenty-nine means a lot of horsepower,” I babbled, trying to divert my thoughts from ‘the bad place.’ “What year is it?”
“Three-hundred-eighty horses, and it’s a 1970.” Traffic opened, Rick accelerated, and we rumbled down the road like an angry tiger, sucking gas as we went.
“Did you refurbish it? Or did you buy it this way?”
“It was my father’s. He kept it garaged and in good shape.”
“Ah, and he passed it along to you. Has he ever asked for it back?”
“He passed away ten years ago. Cancer.”
I glanced at his stone-faced profile. Rick had never revealed personal information to me in the past, always speaking en pointe, in economical sentences. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you miss him.”
“He was a bastard,” he answered without emotion.
I could think of no suitable response. Checking out the rest of the vehicle, I found a black coat and tie in the back seat. I’d never seen Rick wear anything more formal than jeans or cargo pants. “What’s with the coat and tie? Did you have court today?”
“Funeral.”
I inhaled sharply. “That explains the black. Sorry for your loss. Who was it? Family? Friend?”
“Friend. We used to work together.”
“In Afghanistan?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry to drag you away from it. Couldn’t Josh and Hernandez head up the team without you?”
Rick took a beat before responding. “Cardinal . . . Karina—” His voice noticeably softened. “—your sister’s kidnapping . . .” He paused. His jaw flexed, and, for the first time since I’ve ever known him, he seemed to struggle in answering me. “When one of my clients is involved in an abduction, you can bet your ass I’m going to run point,” he snapped.
“I see. Then I’m thankful to be one of your clients. But, if what you say is true, why aren’t you back at the office running ops from the computer room? Why are you here? It seems obvious that you’ve taken on babysitting duty. I feel certain you think visiting Sadira is a waste of time.” I don’t know why I baited him in that snarky tone. Possibly, it was my pique at not getting an earbud. Or, maybe, I was so out of my mind with worry, I wasn’t thinking properly. Or maybe I wanted to know what he had been about to say before he fell back on the obligation to his clients.
The car rolled to a stop behind a line of traffic sitting at a red light. Rick rotated to face me. “Three things. First, I don’t be
lieve anything that might help find your sister is a waste of time. Second, you have good instincts. Though, I’d argue, your impulsivity doesn’t make the best decisions, they have led you to the right conclusions. Even if trouble lies around the corners of those conclusions. Finally—” He drew a breath. “—finally, it is my duty to make sure you’re safe. Josh told the police Silverthorne would protect you, and I will do so to the utmost of my capability.” The light had turned green and a blaring honk had Rick putting his foot down. The car roared forward. “I let you down once. I won’t do it again,” he spoke the last so quietly I barely heard it over the car’s thundering engine, and I wondered if I’d heard correctly.
I sat in silence, chewing over that comment, searching my mind for a time when Rick or his boys had ever let me down. I couldn’t think of one. In reality, they’d provided intel, operational support, and saved my hide on more occasions than I’d like to admit. “You’ve never let me down.”
“Remember how your shoulder was dislocated?” Rick stared ahead at the road.
“Yes. I also remember you saved my life. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have gone to the hospital. I would’ve gone to the morgue.”
“I should’ve cleared the stairwell. He never should have been waiting for you.”
“You take too much on yourself. We can’t predict the future. You couldn’t have known. And we won’t discuss it further,” I stated with finality. The last thing I wanted was for Rick to feel that he “owed” me. If anything, I owed him. “I’m sorry you had to leave your friend’s funeral early,” I said softly.
“Don’t worry. The funeral was over. I left the wake.”
As we headed toward the county jail, a thought occurred to me. “Rick—can you pick a lock?”
“Yes.”
“How are your safe-cracking abilities?”
“Depends on the type of safe, I’ve only done it once. It’s not a skill I put on the resume. Where are you going with this?” He glanced at me.
“I’d like to stop at Sadira’s apartment on the way over.”
“Why? What are you looking for?”
“Leverage.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rick and I scrutinized the in-wall safe. His lock-picking skills were Olympic-medal level, but the safe left him temporarily stymied. The black, steel box had a numbered keypad and three LED lights above the pad; much like a hotel safe, they likely turned green when opening and red when locking. There was a silver handle and a round knob, which seemed to serve no purpose.
“Can you crack it?” I asked.
He studied the little vault. “It’s not like a dial safe. If I enter the wrong numbers more than three times, it’ll lock up tight.”
“Which numbers have fingerprints? Maybe we can look through Sadira’s dossier and figure out dates that relate to them. Do you have a blacklight?”
“Not a bad idea, Cardinal. I don’t have a blacklight but . . . be right back.” Rick disappeared, and I heard rattling in Sadira’s bathroom. He returned holding a blush brush and loose face powder. After tapping the excess off the brush, he tapped powder onto the keypad.
“Well, that can’t be good for business. The only number that doesn’t have a fingerprint is zero.”
Rick placed the powder and brush on a shelf. “Either it’s a long passcode, or she changes it often.”
“What about one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine?”
Rick drummed his fingers against the wall for a moment. “What the hell?” He tapped in the sequence to no joy. The red LEDs flashed at us.
“What about backward?”
“Then we’d be down to one try.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s not a good idea. Hm.” Stymied, the two of us scrutinized the safe, as if waiting for the answer to magically reveal itself. I tilted my head. “Those numbers light up. What happens when the battery wears out?”
“Good question.”
“And what’s this knob for? Do you push it in?” I pushed. It didn’t move. I tried pulling on it. Nothing.
Rick twisted the knob left and right, and suddenly it popped off in his hand, revealing a key lock beneath. “You use the key when the battery dies,” he stated.
“I think I know where the key might be!” I beelined to Sadira’s desk. It only took a few minutes to find the small key taped to the underside of the second drawer I opened. “I found it!” I sang triumphantly.
I needn’t have bothered. Upon entering the closet, I found the safe door open and Rick returning his lockpicks back into their brown leather case. “Do you always travel with those?” I asked.
“You never know when they might come in handy.”
“Isn’t there a Boy Scout motto about better to have it and not need it?”
He gave a snort. “It’s ‘Be Prepared.’”
“Of course, you were a scout.”
“Indeed.”
Sadira’s passport and a few pieces of jewelry sat on the top shelf—a pearl necklace, emerald ring, and gold watch, but no loose diamonds. On the second and third shelf rested stacks of money rubber-banded together. “That’s a lot of cash,” I said with a whistle. Pulling out a stack, I shuffled through it. Hundred-dollar bills flashed past. “It’s all hundreds. How much do you think is in here?”
Rick’s head tilted as he eyeballed the stack in my hand. “My guess, she’s got them sorted into stacks of ten thousand each.” I counted silently as he ticked off each stack.
“Seventy thousand. Would that go a long way in Argentina?”
“Undoubtedly. If she’s got this much in cash, what’s she got stashed in offshore numbered accounts?”
I returned the money to the pile. “You didn’t come across any offshore accounts, did you?”
“We didn’t look that hard, but nothing came up in our initial searches.”
“What in the sweet hell have you been doing, Sadira?” I murmured, eyeballing the dough.
“Is this what you were expecting?”
“Not exactly. But it is my leverage.” I pocketed her passport and closed the safe. The key I’d found fit perfectly, and the lock fastened with a discordant snick.
AFTER SIGNING IN AND placing the request to see my client in a private room, I turned to find Rick standing stoic at parade rest. “I think I’m safe in here. Why don’t you take a moment to catch up with the team?”
“They’re following a few leads, and Hernandez’s informant set up a meet in half an hour.”
“That’s good news.”
He crossed his arms and nodded. Behind him entered Detective Perez. The detective’s face gave way to displeasure when he observed me. “What are you doing here?”
I gnashed my teeth. “Detective Perez, have you found my sister yet?”
“I thought that big blond guy was watching you. I told Garcia we couldn’t trust you.” He got in my face and lectured in angry low tones, “You should be at a safe house by now. Don’t you realize the danger you’re in? I’m going to have to insist on taking you back to the station—” He took my arm.
Rick stepped forward.
Yanking my arm away, I said rather loudly, “Detective, I’d like to introduce you to my security detail, the head of Silverthorne, Rick—” I suddenly realized I didn’t know Rick’s last name. I’d simply known him as Rick, or Batman.
“Donovan,” Rick supplied and held out his hand. “I can assure you, Ms. Cardinal is safe in my care.”
“Oh, uh, well then . . .” They shook hands.
“I’m here to see my client,” I explained.
“Karina Cardinal,” an officer called.
I acknowledged her, holding up a finger to give me a moment. “Following up on a lead, detective?”
He stared at me for a moment as if I’d gone insane. After all, I was the one who’d led him here. I tilted my head and winked.
Perez finally seemed to clue in. “Yes, uh, as a matter of fact, I am here to see your client.”
“If you’ll w
ait a few minutes, I need to see Sadira alone first.” The detective opened his mouth as if to argue, but I cut him off. “Trust me, it’ll go better if you wait.”
Perez squinted, then nodded.
“Sign in and have them bring you up. Can you get my security detail in too? They were reluctant to allow him to join me.”
Perez sized Rick up. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I waited ten more minutes before another guard ushered Sadira into our glass box. Rick and Perez had arrived and stood outside. Rick had returned to his stoic guard dog impression, not taking his eyes off me, while Perez paced the floor.
“Hello, Sadira,” I enunciated.
Her hair was tucked behind her ears. The wild-eyed, angry fear I’d witnessed this morning seemed to have dissipated, or she was hiding it well. Without preamble, she asked, “Did you deliver my message to your sister?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Are you still being threatened?”
Her eyes darted around, taking in the visitors in the hall. “Not lately, but I can’t be sure.”
“Have a seat.” I indicated the metal chair across the table. “I have good news.”
“Oh, yeah?” She sat. “What is it?”
“I found your passport.” I removed the little blue booklet from my pocket, placing it between us. I watched her eyes widen in surprise.
She gulped. “Where did you find it?”
“Where you left it” —my lips pinched— “in your hidden safe. Along with $70,000.”
Expressions flitted across her features—first anger, then wariness, finally settling on frightened mouse. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I’m fairly sure it’s exactly what I think.”
Lots of headshaking. “No! You have to believe me, I had nothing to do with stealing those diamonds.”
“I never said you did, Sadira.” It was a difficult to speak with such coolness, but I knew I’d have to thread this needle carefully, or she’d fire me and refuse to talk. And I desperately needed her to talk. “We have a man following Tazim as we speak. I expect he’ll be trying to pawn those diamonds within the hour.”