Crooked

by Bronwen John

  “Can I help, mate?” asked a foreman as Holmes approached.

  “Where the hell is Kat?” Holmes snapped, seeing Innocent glaring balefully at him.

  “Kat? Don’t have no Kat here, mate,” said the foreman, folding his arms across his chest. He’d seen how carefully she’d put away those verification papers.

  “There was art stuff here,” Holmes said, looking at him angrily. “People milling about. Kat was an overseer.”

  “There would be… it never closes, except Christmas Day or for official business. And all the overseers are the grandsons and granddaughters of my father. This has been in the family for more than two hundred years, mate. The only time we vacate is when something big is going on – take last week, for example,” the foreman said. “A couple of people came in from the London Commission. They were checking the building for asbestos. They closed the place down. They were verified, before you ask.” He whipped out some papers. “Some worked for Terence Nunn; really nice job they did, too.”

  “May I see?” Holmes asked, as he looked at the paperwork. “Verified… and you said Terence Nunn?”

  “Yeah, he’s the best fixer-upper in all London.”

  Terence Nunn. Holmes’s hands trembled lightly over the sheet of paper as he remembered what Hughes had told him. The blonde girl who had so kindly promised to help, no doubt closely resembled the girl he knew as Kat.

  “The little bitch!” Holmes didn’t wait for a reaction from the man as he stormed back to the car, where Ezra Innocent was glaring at him, looking as though he’d heard every word.

  “She conned you again, didn’t she?! One hell of a big con!” snapped the American, green eyes flickering with pure rage. “This has been one set up job from start to finish! And she got away!”

  “I have Hughes after her right now!”

  “I had her half an hour ago with Vin! But no. You had to go and make it into a con. Even I admit the pure balls of that girl make me wonder if they mixed up her gender at birth, and you walked right into it. You wanted her, you got her!” He slammed his hand on the car door. “Now I’ve got to go hunting again for her. Believe me, I have some serious thinking to do with my associates about my business dealings with you.”

  Holmes froze. The press. His press deals would disappear; he knew that. He’d be hung out to dry, and Innocent had always been prideful of the distance that he maintained between himself and the press. Would that be maintained? He’d almost certainly lost his business partner, and his dealings would never be the same. All the respectability he’d worked for, lost.

  And Esther Crook was set to lose her life when he caught up with her.

  “I don’t see how you knew I was working for him.”

  Ash looked over at Esther as she put together the last of the boxes to empty the room. Esther glanced at her, before returning to writing on the boxes. They’d arrived back safely.

  “I told you to, didn’t I?” Esther said.

  “There was no guarantee that I would listen to you,” Ash said, sighing heavily. “You have an awful lot of faith in your team… Vin included.”

  “Vin’s not a member of my team. My father? Yes, he runs with him. Me? Definitely not. As I said, he thinks I’m a brat,” Esther said, with a small, dry chuckle. “But he did teach me a valuable lesson: that it’s just a matter of looking and listening. You are terrible at cold reading, but I’m not.”

  “Am I really that bad?”

  “In the words of Buck, you’re a whole mess of tells to those of us that know you.” Esther smiled.

  Ash nodded, breaking into a grin as she looked into Esther’s eyes. They were comforting… but also hid a thousand things. “So how did you get the other three’s money?” she asked.

  Esther laughed. “You have got to pay better attention. I got them to pay via cheque… which will bounce all the way to the bank.”

  “Wait…” Ash paused on the stairs, staring at Esther’s retreating back. “They’re con artists?”

  “Yep, which is why I wanted the big reward.” Esther laughed happily. “Do you know how much reputation he’s lost being conned by me? Let alone that he spoke to the police… there’s nobody in Europe who will deal with him right now.”

  “Est… Ash…”

  Ash looked up straight into the eyes of Vin, and then Caelan. The latter was wearing an expression of grief.

  Esther stood carefully. “How bad?”

  “He’s got us, sis.” Caelan ruffled his hair. “I was sliding in Covent Garden when I saw some of his goons coming here. Lucky Vin was there. We got the bastard, but the text had been seen and sent.”

  “Est, there’s no exit. He’s watching the ports, including air…”

  Esther ran her hands through her hair. There was a slight tremble to her countenance now.

  “Listen, Est… I can get the kid out. Caelan told me some of the plan.”

  “Yeah, I know he did,” Esther sighed as Caelan looked at her from behind Vin. “Cael, you have got to get out of here. He doesn’t know you too well.”

  “Sis, I’m not leaving you.”

  “You damned well are! This is the only route that gets you out of here safe.” Esther bit her lip. “In the safe, Vin, you’ll find some needles. They’ve been pre-measured. It’s quick, painless and easy.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “Shut up, Caelan. I’m not telling you again. He’s not looking for you. Organise the flights. Go on!”

  “There’s method in this madness,” Caelan muttered, hugging his sister and then holding her out at arm’s length to look at her. “When will we meet?”

  “Soon, little brother, soon,” Esther hissed, walking into the bedroom with Ash following. “Ash, I ask you to put your full faith in me from here on in.” She held out her arm. “I’m ready, Vin.”

  “It’s the best option, Est,” he whispered. “And everything will be arranged. Sure you’re okay with this?”

  Esther merely maintained her gaze, even when she winced as the tracker tightened the belt on her arm. “You swear to me that you’ll take care of her, Vin?”

  “Never broken my word to you yet,” he said.

  “Don’t BS me right now,” Esther said, flexing her arm one last time. “Go on, Vin.”

  He looked at her sadly, and she caught his cheek with her other hand.

  “Hey. It’s for the best… do me a favour, though?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t let the kid see me die like this.”

  Vin tenderly touched her cheek and lay her back down on the bed.

  “Shut the door, please, Vin.”

  “I’ll stay until it’s over, okay?” He looked through at Caelan. “Keep her in there; we’ll arrange the rest.”

  “Arrange the rest of what?!” Ash demanded.

  “My sister’s last wish was that you have faith in her,” snapped Caelan, as the door was kicked open by Vin.

  For a brief moment, Ash saw that Esther was lying still on the bed, and she looked at the man with panicked eyes but saw only comfort and gentleness. The last image that Ash had was of Vin offering a wink to her, along with a sharp pain in her neck.

  Then the world slid into nothingness.

  Twenty-One

  Paulsen interrupted Holmes in the middle of a card game. Subtly, of course; a mere murmur in the ear. Paulsen knew better than to be rude in front of important friends, especially these days, with Holmes running so low on friendships. Nobody in his fraternity would touch him with a bargepole since the suicide of Gaines – there had been steady whispers, growing louder, of the man being pushed. With Crook in London, he knew where the rumours were coming from, let alone his wife’s arrest. He was the laughing stock of the criminal fraternity – not helped by the fact that there was no trace of any of the marks.

  The very victims he’d wined
and dined in top hotels, upon Azeri’s words and the fingers that she’d pointed. The victims who had been vetted by his personnel, and whom he had gone to great lengths to convince that they were being conned. These people Azeri had shown to him, as well as the private account that their cheques had been paid into successfully.

  These interested parties had attended the same party where Esther Crook had performed her greatest conjurer’s trick and, amidst the excitement, vanished with Azeri, the money and another notch added to her legend. Holmes’s compatriots in the con had equally vanished into the night, along with their donations to Esther Crook. The bank transfers had gone through legally and the contract that he had signed with Crook showed the money going into a perfectly legitimate business named Desjardin Ltd. The accounts were feasible and, with the wording on the contract that Esther Crook had signed in the name of Darnell Voleur, were shown to be for a business transaction regarding a fake ruby necklace in the style of the Burmese ruby’s original setting.

  It was a miracle, at the very least, that Innocent hadn’t flown home. The charming American from the Deep South had persuaded several prominent members of London’s criminal society to join them, and there had even been a few laughs shared as the police wandered in and out, looking at his books.

  And now his business was needed desperately.

  “I need to talk with you a minute.”

  “Not now.” Worse than being interrupted when he was about to win, Holmes was sure he was about to lose again. Nevertheless, this particular friend had to be placated. Innocent had been annoyed with Holmes lately, and Holmes was trying to be diplomatic, give him a small win. Innocent had been decidedly angrier and won several hands with vicious satisfaction.

  “It’s important.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “Not even ten minutes,” Paulsen said, and he hovered in the background, buzzing with so much energy that Holmes could barely focus on his game.

  “Christ, Holmes, just fold and speak to your damned friend,” said Innocent as he lost a hand. “He’s putting the spectre of misfortune on me.”

  Holmes trembled with rage as he joined Paulsen again, well aware of the glares at his back from the other players. “What is it?”

  “Azeri,” Paulsen said. “And her partner… Esther Crook.”

  It was enough to take the breath away. Esther Crook was still on his stomping ground. The notorious con artist had really stayed here, alive and breathing.

  Holmes hoped it didn’t show; of course, he could trust Paulsen, but he knew he shouldn’t be quite as shocked as he was. The woman was as ruthless as him, and had a reputation to uphold. She’d already be angry with him for the factor of his ‘theft’ of ‘her’ painting. She’d escaped once, but had lain so low that he’d not been able to touch her since that night.

  “What the hell?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment, but it begins with two pretty young girls together.”

  “A pretty girl with a huge tangle of secrets remains dead no matter what those secrets were, and I want them dead. Anyway, Crook and Azeri together?”

  “Our source saw… he phoned it in to me, said they were looking pretty calm and collected for two people trying to con each other.”

  “Where did he see her? When?”

  “About two hours ago.” Paulsen scratched his chin. “I was due to meet him, but joined you on this little venture when Innocent phoned with that fancy solicitor of his.”

  “And the boys with him?”

  “No.”

  “And he didn’t attempt to bring her back?”

  That was the next step, of course. Holmes had thought about what he would do if Esther and her band of merry men were in London and still breathing. He could confront her, take her apart piece by piece for what she had done to him, for the shame of her escaping him on the boat. The humiliation he now endured because of that. Not to mention her latest getaway.

  Paulsen put his hands in his pockets. “No – the kid followed her and it looks like she was heading towards where Vin caught her.”

  “Damn it…”

  “Lost all contact.”

  Holmes cursed under his breath; another friend lost.

  “It’d seem, also, that Crook forgot herself too… she’s heading to Denver. She left her travel plans with the most disreputable source. She told our source’s unwitting partner that she is heading back to Lyon to pay some respects and then going on to Denver. The flight plan has been booked to the final detail.”

  “Good. I need to show my business plans… and show Innocent I am a man of mettle and my word.”

  There was a sudden flurry of curses and Innocent stormed through, his green eyes glaring balefully into Holmes’s. He was holding his phone in his hand, shaking in rage. “Two young women have been found dead in a suspected murder,” he announced, his fingers shaking lightly in what Holmes took to be barely contained rage.

  “Why should that affect us?” Holmes smirked, continuing to play dumb until he suddenly felt his tie tighten as Innocent tugged him in.

  “Darnell Voleur was last seen playing poker on the charity cruise where, guests have reported, she became downhearted after being accused of being a crook. She was last seen exiting a party that you were throwing and, during which, your wife was arrested.” He held the news report in Holmes’s face. “The damned girl has got one over on you one last time. The man found at the scene of the crime is none other than your damned watchdog, Hughes.”

  Holmes stuttered for a reply. He was saved by a cough from behind him, followed by a flurry of curses from Innocent. He spun on his heel and felt his stomach drop from under him.

  Chris Adams.

  The ATF team leader was something of an unlucky legend to those in his path. His team was known within the gun trade as the ‘unlucky-for-us thirteen’. The man had a fantastic conviction rate. He’d been chasing Innocent for years, although had so far been unsuccessful in capturing him.

  “You know, Innocent, I’ve been running after for you for over four years and you’ve never been so helpful.”

  Christopher Adams’s smile was a strange one. It was a smile filled with lethal longing as he looked at Innocent, who had suddenly gone stiff as he sat down at the end of the table.

  “Mr Adams.” It was impossible to miss the slight quiver in Innocent’s voice as he faced down the agent whom Esther Crook had tauntingly used as a threat.

  “Fascinating array of details you have here,” Adams said, holding up the innocuous-looking billfold.

  “I have no business dealings in the United Kingdom, as you are, no doubt, well aware from your sojourn to Companies House,” Innocent said, looking paler by the second.

  “None legal, but that’s just semantics… imagine my delight when I got phone calls from both Interpol and the CIA to tell me that they’d found this billfold in your UK apartment. The search warrant covered the place, just to keep things nice and legal, and the search turned up this lovely little book.”

  Holmes felt his heart sink. The black book. The one that held all his illicit business dealings and his whispers on the winds. It was supposed to be in LA, where his wife’s ownership papers had been. So far away from the eyes of Esther Crook; from her knowledge and her wicked ways.

  According to his security form, he’d written off the attempted break-in as the work of an opportunistic thief who had stolen nothing of that level of importance. He’d even assumed that his wife had made one of her habitual mistakes, with months being switched.

  But then Crook left nothing to chance. Not even death, apparently.

  “We have enough information here to put you away for several lifetimes. I must confess that Mr Holmes is nothing if not thorough.”

  Holmes looked at the leather-backed book, feeling his stomach swirl inside him.

  “What the hell is that?” Innocent had lost
all traces of his typical congeniality, and the tremor in his hand was now evidently from rage, not a healthy dose of fear and respect for the ATF agent.

  “This is what got us your extradition paper, Innocent. Over a hundred pages with dates, places and names from past transactions, future transactions, warehouses, safe houses,” Adams said, grinning as he handed him the paperwork.

  Innocent read it in silent contemplation, the tremble in his fingers becoming more apparent.

  “Every team with three letters in, as my beloved god-daughter is fond of telling me, is going to root through this. It’ll take days. Months, even. Especially with the two bodies in the morgue that your friend Hughes mixed up… with any luck, we might get you soon enough, Holmes.” Adams flashed a grin as Innocent stood up. “No screaming?”

  “Any point – except one courtesy?” Innocent asked, as he turned and allowed Chris to put on the handcuffs. “Keep my name out of the papers until it’s proven… after all, it could be just a minor infraction of an understudy grabbing for a lead role.”

  “Don’t worry yourself; I’m sure you will be a leading man for the rest of your days,” Adams said. “Gentlemen; Holmes…” He looked over Holmes’s hand. “My, my… black Aces and Eights. A dead man’s hand?”

  “The last hand Wild Bill Hickok got before he was shot in the back of the head by a man he had helped.” Innocent coughed, sounding miserable. “A more appropriate term I’m yet to hear.”

  Holmes looked around. The eyes around him held nothing but contempt. For his betrayal, for everything. Esther Crook had signed his death warrant without even saying a word. But he couldn’t resist one dig at the leader of the ATF. “Well, it’s a pity Esther Crook didn’t get to see this day.”