by Joel Goldman
“And your head must be about to explode. I mean it’s not every day that a dead lover comes back to life especially on the wrong side of a caper like this.”
“No, this is definitely not an everyday thing.”
Jake knew he was on tricky terrain but pressed on. “He thought you were dead. That’s a pretty good reason for not telling you he was alive.”
“Why are you sticking up for him?”
“I’m not. It’s just that you were so upset because you didn’t think he loved you and…”
“And you’re just trying to make me feel better so I’ll fall into your arms?”
“Maybe I just want you to feel better.”
“That’s Hyde Park Corner up ahead. What now?” McNulty said.
They squared around, facing the front seat.
“Hand me the phone,” Cassie said. She studied the GPS screen and gave McNulty his instructions.
Gabriel took the kind of circuitous route Cassie anticipated. Together with the congested traffic, an hour passed with no clear idea of his destination.
“Where are we?” Jake asked McNulty.
“East end. Limehouse District they call it.”
“What’s around here?”
“A bunch of derelict warehouses and a few shops that are just hanging on. Some of the gentry are tryin’ to bring it back, tearing down the old and putting up flats the likes of me will never see from the inside. But, it’s still mostly abandoned buildings nobody but bums and stray dogs have a taste for. This here is Commercial Road, what you Yanks would call the main drag. Back behind them warehouses,” he said, pointing out the window, “is the Limehouse Cut. That’s a canal leads to the Thames. Used to be for the barges. Not so much anymore.”
“Pull over,” Cassie said. “We’ll walk from here.”
McNulty stopped in front of a business that sold tires and serviced cars. The adjacent lot had gone back to nature and was covered with a thick overgrowth of trees. It separated the service station from an abandoned warehouse that filled the rest of the block
Cassie waited on the broad sidewalk while Jake leaned in the driver’s window. He handed McNulty a wad of bills. “This cover it?”
“More than covers it, mate. She’s a fine woman, that one is, eh? I’d wager you’re glad you found her? Well, as my old pop used to say, don’t screw it up, lad.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“You want me to stick around?”
“Might be a good idea. Do you mind?”
McNulty patted his meter. “I’ll pull in here. I’m in the market for new tires as it is.”
Jake joined Cassie. He said, “Why did we give up the cab?”
“Because Gabriel likes derelicts, bums and stray dogs when he’s on the run. Keeps him off the grid. Look,” she said, holding up her phone. “He’s been in that warehouse for the last ten minutes.”
Jake checked the address, then searched it on his phone. “It’s old alright. Goes back to the 1800’s. The owners made supplies for sailing ships. They shut down in the early 1970’s and it’s been left to go to hell ever since then. Check out these pictures of the interior. Looks like a bomb went off.”
“I like this one,” Cassie said, pointing to a photo of an exterior stairway leading up half a flight to a narrow doorway. “It has to be in the back or on the side. Better than trying the front door.”
The main building was a brown brick, three-story structure with a pitched roof. The boarded up and broken cast iron windows testified to its neglect. The warehouse behind it was a ramshackle mess missing portions of ceilings, walls and windows. The Limehouse Cut, a foul ribbon of brackish water, snaked behind them. The dense overgrowth of trees and shrubs bordering the warehouse made it impossible to locate the exterior stairs from the street.
“Let’s each take a side,” Cassie said. “Whoever finds the entrance, text the other. But,” she added, poking his chest with her finger, “don’t even think about going in on your own. Got it?”
“Got it.” He turned toward the far side of the building.
“Hey.” Cassie grabbed his shoulder from behind, spun him around and kissed him, crushing her mouth against his. “Now you can go.”
“If that’s what I get for leaving, I can’t wait to see what I get for coming back.”
“Depends on what you bring me. Now move it.”
Cassie wove her way toward the rear, careful not to make any noise that might carry inside the open-air warehouse. She was nearing the back when she emerged from a thick stand of trees to find the wooden stairs tucked into a recessed section of the exterior wall.
After texting Jake, she crept up the dozen steps leading to a slightly ajar door that gave her a narrow view inside. Rain water was puddled in scattered pools across the uneven, cement floor. Steel girders supported a second level wrap-around balcony where rusted heavy equipment had been abandoned. A gigantic iron hook, taller than a man, hung suspended from a heavy wire coil centered at the far end of the balcony opposite Cassie’s position, the cable stretching across the length of the room. Birds flew in and out, perching on the hook and basking in the sun that washed through vacant ceiling panels.
Gabriel, Aramis and another man whom she guessed was the third thief, Porthos, stood in the center of the barren warehouse fifty feet from her door. Aramis and Porthos were side-by-side. Gabriel was ten feet away from them, his back to her.
Aramis said, “You called this fuckin’ meeting. Now what’s it about?”
Gabriel said, “Where are the Magna Cartas?”
“Shaw’s got ‘em far as I know. What’s it to you? Your piece of this is done.”
“I signed on for a heist, not a ransom play.”
“Ransom? What are you talkin’ about? There’s no fuckin’ ransom,” Aramis said.
“The note you left demanding a hundred million pounds for the safe return of the Magna Cartas was what? A joke? Because I’m not laughing.”
“You know about that, do you. How’s that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Point is, I know. The job was to grab the Magna Cartas, not to ransom them. If I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, I want my cut of the hundred million.”
“See now, it does matter because I didn’t tell you. It had to be someone from the library. Like maybe this little bird.” Aramis held up his phone, showing Gabriel a photograph. Cassie didn’t need to see it to know it was her. “Now, strictly speaking, she doesn’t work at the library, does she?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”
Aramis pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it at Gabriel. “I think you have. Her name is Cassie Ireland and she works for an outfit called Global Security. They’re in the business of getting back what gets stolen. And I’m thinkin’ the two of you are intendin’ to steal the Magna Cartas from Shaw and collect the ransom yourselves.”
Gabriel raised his hands in protest. “That’s crazy. I don’t know anything about the woman or Global Security and I’m not fool enough to double-cross Shaw.”
“Then why’d you bring Cassie to our little parlay?” Gabriel dropped his arms to his sides, casting furtive glances around the warehouse as Cassie ducked her head out of the open doorway. “That’s right, mate. We’ve been following her and that bloke tagging along with her all day. And no need to be lookin’ around for them. They’ll be along soon enough.”
Cassie heard footsteps behind her and turned, holding a finger to her mouth to quiet Jake only to see a broad-shouldered man dressed in black aiming a gun at her. He had the mashed face of a man who’d lost more fights than he’d won despite his sledgehammer arms. He motioned with his gun for her to raise her hands.
“Inside, Missy,” the gunman said.
THIRTY-FOUR
GOING INSIDE AS AN UNARMED PRISONER was a bad option. That would give Aramis more leverage and shorten the odds for both her and Gabriel. Cassie didn’t have time to sort out her concern for him, especially after hear
ing Gabriel demand a cut of the ransom. It was hard enough to admit to caring what happened to him.
She began walking down the stairs toward the gunman, never taking her eyes from him. He gestured at her again.
“I said, inside.”
There was nothing between Cassie and the gunman she could use as a weapon. Her one chance was to get close enough to disarm him. That hadn’t worked with Aramis and she welcomed the second chance.
“Don’t make me shoot you,” the gunman said.
Cassie kept going, almost to the bottom of the stairs. “You won’t shoot me. Aramis wants me alive.”
The gunman stayed out of her reach. “He didn’t say nuthin’ about not putting a bullet in your knee, so get yourself inside.”
Before she could make another move, Jake slipped out of the trees carrying a length of iron pipe cocked over his shoulder like a baseball bat. The gunman spun around as Jake swung, raising his arm to block the blow. The center of the pipe caught him on the wrist, shattering it and causing his gun to fly out of his hand. Jake’s follow through caught the gunman’s chin, dropping him to his knees.
Cassie picked up the weapon, then twisted the gunman’s injured arm behind his back and forced him to his feet. He groaned as she wrenched his arm up toward his neck and pressed the barrel of the gun against the base of his skull.
“You have a name?”
Chin hanging on his chest, he muttered, “Rugger.”
“Well, Rugger. If you don’t want your day to get any worse, you’ll do exactly what I tell you. Got it?” He nodded. “Are there any more of you roaming around outside?” He shook his head. She forced his damaged arm higher. “Because if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll put a bullet in your knee. So, one more time. Is there anyone else?”
He answered through gritted teeth. “One other.”
Jake motioned to Cassie with the pipe. “I’ve got him.” He slipped back into the trees before Cassie could stop him.
Rugger asked, “Now what?”
“Like you said, time to go inside.”
Cassie shoved Rugger ahead of her into the warehouse, keeping a firm grip on his damaged arm. Gabriel was on his knees facing her. Aramis was behind him, his gun aimed at the back of Gabriel’s head. Porthos stood nearby, gun in hand, arms slack at his sides.
Porthos saw them first. “Oi!”
Cassie pressed her gun against Rugger’s temple. “Aramis, your nose is a mess and those black eyes make you look like a raccoon. Did you walk into a door or did you let a girl beat you up?”
“Keep talkin’, missy. When I get done with your boyfriend here, you’re next and I’ll be glad to take my time with you.”
“Let him go and I’ll let Rugger go.”
Aramis sneered. “Or, what? You going to shoot poor Rugger?”
“First you, then Rugger.”
“Huh? Can’t have that.”
He swung his gun toward them and shot Rugger in the head. Cassie shoved his body aside and rolled across the floor, coming up in a shooting position as Porthos fired wildly at her. She returned fire, hitting him center mass and toppling him over.
Gabriel pivoted, sweeping his legs against the back of Aramis’ knees and knocking him off balance, forcing his second shot to miss Cassie. Gabriel leapt on Aramis, wrestling for control of his gun, knocking it free and sending it skidding across the floor. Aramis flipped Gabriel onto his back and began hammering him with massive blows.
Cassie looked up as Jake appeared on the balcony and jumped onto the giant hook. He released a lever and the hook flew down the cable. As he sailed past, Jake struck Aramis in the back of the head with his iron pipe, dropping him like a dead weight onto Gabriel. The hook slowed and Jake jumped to the floor.
Gabriel crawled out from under Aramis and stared at Jake. “What was that?”
Jake shrugged. “Zip line. Lot of fun. You should try it.”
He turned to Cassie. “Who is he? And why are you pointing that gun at me?”
Cassie said. “Forget about him. I want the Magna Cartas.”
“Shooting me won’t get them back. Besides, we both know you won’t do it.”
“Not this time.” She found a rag and wiped Rugger’s gun clean, then put it in his hand, finger around the trigger and squeezed off a round.
“What was that for?” Jake asked.
“Rugger needs powder burns on his hand if we want the police to think he shot Porthos. What about the other guy outside?”
“Rugger was bluffing.”
Cassie pressed two fingers against Aramis’ neck. “He’ll wake up with a bad headache.” She went through his pockets until she found his wallet, then did the same with Porthos. “We’ll, now we know their real names. This one,” she said, pointing at Aramis, “is Max Dekker. The other one is Lionel Kent.”
Gabriel said, “We never knew each other’s real names. That’s the way Shaw wanted it.”
“Was it just the three of you in the Library?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet or talk to Shaw?”
“No. Aramis - I guess I can call him Dekker now – he dealt with Shaw.”
“Then how’d you get the job?”
“Dekker. He said Shaw told him how to reach me. How did you find me?”
“She didn’t find you,” Jake said. “I did. I tagged you with a tracker while you were beating the crap out of me.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“I know,” Cassie said. “You have to help us get the Magna Cartas back.”
“No, I don’t. After this, Shaw is going to come after me with everything he’s got. I’m not going to put you in his crosshairs too. I can’t let Dekker tell Shaw what happened.”
He took Dekker’s gun and aimed it at his head. Cassie clamped her hand around the barrel. “I can handle Shaw and you owe me. I just saved your life.”
Gabriel stuck the gun in his belt and took her by the arms. “And I don’t want you to regret it because I may not be able to save yours if you don’t let this go.” He peeled off his sweater and stuffed it under her arm. “Goodbye, Cassie. This is the last time. It’s for the best.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I’ve always done. Survive. You should try it.”
THIRTY-FIVE
SIRENS SOUNDED IN THE DISTANCE, rapidly closing in on the warehouse.
“That didn’t take long. Someone on the other side of the water must have heard the gunfire and called the police, ” Cassie said. “We can’t go back the way we came.”
Jake said, “There’s a footpath that runs along the Limehouse Cut that I used to get around the back of the warehouse. We can stay in the trees and follow it until we get back to the service station. McNulty is waiting for us.”
She stared at him. “You told McNulty to wait for us?”
“Gotta plan ahead. Sometimes the next card matters more than the ones on the table.”
They made it into the cab as a trio of police cars skidded to a stop in front of the warehouse. McNulty eased into traffic going the opposite direction and studied Jake in the rearview mirror, his raised eyebrows asking a silent question. Jake shrugged in reply.
“Where to?” McNulty asked.
Cassie’s phone pinged with a text message. She studied it, then answered. “Someplace far from here and private.”
Jake watched as her fingers swarmed over her phone, pulling up one webpage after another. He liked watching her work, how the corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes flashed as she moved from screen to screen. She was on the hunt and enjoying it. He started to ask her what she was doing but stopped when she shook her head, as if anticipating his interruption.
Half an hour later, McNulty pulled to the curb alongside Cavendish Square Gardens, a public square with a perimeter hedge around a lush lawn, shrubs and flower beds beneath broad-leafed oak trees. He cut the engine and opened his door.
“Hey, where are you going?” Jake asked.
&
nbsp; McNulty said. “The lady requested far away so I took you from the East End to the West End. And you can’t get more private than my cab. Take your time. The meter’s running.”
He got out, closed his door and walked into the Gardens.
Cassie turned to Jake. “That text I got was from Gunnar. It was a link to a message on a secure server we use. Fifty thousand pounds was deposited into each of the missing guards’ bank accounts a week ago.”
“But we know the guards didn’t do it. That’s a lot of money to throw away on a setup.”
“It’s a rounding error compared to a hundred million. Gunnar traced the guards’ money and the Malcolm Bridges’ million pounds back through a rat’s nest of offshore accounts and shell companies. Each payment had one thing in common. The money passed through a charitable foundation in London called the Dawn of Hope.”
