by Jan Coffey
Ellie, of course, was ready to kick everyone out and close the shop at five. Vic, however, almost had a coronary when she started to do just that. Aside from a variety of small items, they had sold half a dozen large pieces today alone, and Brian was on the verge of selling a pair of Thomas Affleck chairs. It was easily the best day they’d had in a very successful year. With reluctance, Ellie conceded to keep the place open for two more hours, but not a minute more.
She was too wound up to take Vic’s suggestion and stay up in her apartment, but she was too much on edge to deal with these high-rolling customers. With Brian and Vic working, though, they weren’t short on help. Ellie was allowed to walk around the shop, as long as she didn’t bite anyone.
Anything remotely resembling a ring had Ellie diving for the phone. After the third phone call, Brian forced her to carry the handset. With her cell phone in her other hand, she looked like a gunslinger…and had an attitude to match.
There were several business-related calls. Each time, she was extremely brief and a hair short of rude. Vic kept the coffee brewing. To cheer her up, Brian even made a quick run to the nearest convenience store and came back with a six-pack of chocolate milk. But Ellie was beyond help—she was way past calm. And to add to her stress, the closer she got to the hour she threatened to close the shop, the more customers came in. It seemed like there wasn’t a breath of air left inside.
It was exactly six forty-five when the store phone rang again. Ellie answered it on the first ring. There was so much noise around her that she could barely hear anything on the other end.
“Don’t hang up,” she said into the phone. “Please don’t hang up.”
She threaded her way through the people to the stairs and climbed quickly to the first landing. “Can you hear me?”
There was nothing but the sound of street noises on the other end. Cars honking, people were speaking. It sounded to Ellie as if the caller was at a busy intersection. She moved up a few more steps.
“Nate?” she called.
“No, it’s Chris.”
“Christopher!” she repeated.
“Miss Ellie.”
His voice was weak. Ellie covered her other ear to block out the noise drifting up from downstairs. “What’s wrong, Chris?”
“I ran away, Miss Ellie. I’m on the street. Everything is kind of scary.”
“Sweetheart, where are you?” she asked urgently.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you in Philadelphia?”
“Yeah, I think so.” He paused. “Yeah, I am.”
She forced herself to stay calm. “Listen to me, Chris. City streets aren’t the safest place for somebody your age. Look around you. I want you to tell me if you see any cops.”
A long pause followed and all she could hear were the sounds of traffic.
“There’s a police car parked on the next block.”
“Chris, I want you to go to him and ask for help.”
“No.” His voice broke. “I don’t want to go to any cops.”
“Chris—”
“Miss Ellie, please. I want to see Agent Murtaugh again. I have to talk to him. Please,” he begged. “It’s really, really important. I told the people I was staying with that I needed to see him, but they wouldn’t get him for me.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked softly.
“I remembered this other thing that I forgot to tell him. When I was at the museum, the guy who caught me, he called this other guy on his radio. He said his name. I remember it now.”
“You know the name of one of the men from the museum?”
“Yeah. I think maybe that was why they tried to kill me…and I have to tell Agent Murtaugh. He said he’d catch the bad guys, and they wouldn’t come after me no more.”
“Listen to me, Chris.” Ellie sat down on the steps. “Do you see any taxi cabs driving around?”
There was another pause. “Yeah, lots of them.”
“This is what I want you to do,” she said calmly. “After you hang up the phone, you go to the curb and raise your hand for one of the cabs. Now, don’t get into any other cars except a taxi. You hear me?”
“I don’t have any money.”
“That’s okay,” she said reassuringly. “When you climb inside, give them my address and tell them your mother is paying for the ride when you get to your house.”
“And they’ll believe me?”
“Yes. They will.” She rubbed the headache at her temple. “I’ll wait for you at the door.”
Ellie gave Chris the street address of the shop. Her mind was mush, and her limbs were Jell-O by the time she hung up. But she forced herself to concentrate. She had to kick everyone out. She had to close the shop. She had to be ready for Christopher to arrive.
Ellie prayed she was doing the right thing.
Twenty-Nine
Like thoroughbreds breaking out of a starting gate, the thunderstorms raced shoulder to shoulder across the sunless suburbs of Philadelphia. As the customers came out the shop door into Pine Street, the lightning strikes looked like fireworks over the city, and the sheets of rain fell hard enough to churn up the Schuylkill River.
Two men sat in a gray sedan three doors down. The black man’s gaze never wavered from the shop door; the other listened through a headset and watched the thinning street traffic.
The lights inside the shop dimmed. An older man and a younger woman tried to go inside, but the door was locked.
A taxi passed the car and pulled up in front of the antique shop. The black man leaned forward and with one impatient sweep wiped the steam off the inside of the windshield. Ellie Littlefield ran out the front door, followed by the two men who worked the shop with her.
Large umbrellas opened. The woman leaned inside and handed some money to the driver. The back door opened and a small figure emerged. The four figures rushed back inside the store as a group.
The cab remained in front of the store, and the couple who had tried to get inside ran from another shop’s overhang and jumped into it. A moment later, the two men came out of the shop again, looked at the cab disappearing up the street, and then set off at a brisk pace in the direction of Broad Street.
As the light inside the shop went out, the black man reached inside his jacket and clicked off the safety catch on his weapon.
The ringing of the bell was persistent. By the time Ellie made it down the three flights of stairs, loud knocking had been added.
She threw the hand towel she’d been using on her wet hair onto a bench and peered out through the glass. A large man wearing a gray trench coat was waiting outside. His collar was up, covering much of his face. When he spotted her, he stopped knocking.
She motioned to the little sign hung in the window. “We’re closed.”
“It’s me, Ellie.” The man pulled the collar slightly back. He had a large square jaw, a red nose that had been broken at least once. Rain streaked his glasses, but his dark eyes were riveted to her face. “Sanford Hawes. We talked on the phone.”
She must have hesitated a second, for he immediately took out a badge from inside his coat and flattened it with a huge hand against the glass.
The picture and the name matched the face. Ellie turned on the inside light and unlatched the door.
He swept in on a gust of wind and rain. She quickly closed the door behind him.
“This weather is not being too hospitable for everything that’s planned for tomorrow.” He shook himself like a great dog.
“It’s supposed to blow over before morning,” she said in a small voice.
“I sure hope so.” He gave her a glimpse of his big teeth. “We meet in person at last.”
She didn’t move away from the door. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
“I know. But I had to be in Philadelphia, and I didn’t feel right about the way we left it when you called this morning.” He took another step into the shop, glancing around at the place. “I had six different people wanting
something all at the same time. Just too many goddamn things happening all at once. You have a nice setup here.”
“Thanks.”
“Nice chair,” he said, gesturing toward a Cross-wicks chair on a pedestal toward the back of the shop.
When she only nodded, he walked back toward it, then went as far as poking his head into the darkened back room. He stopped at the foot of the stairway. “Do you live upstairs?”
“On the top floor.”
“I remember the reports saying that you also rent work space to local artists.”
“There’s a studio on the second floor.” Ellie picked up the towel she’d dropped on the bench earlier and held it against her chest. “I’m sorry about the panic call this morning. You have enough on your plate with everything else going on.”
“Has Nate called you since this morning?”
“No. No, he hasn’t.” She went behind the counter and turned on a desk lamp.
“Has anybody else called you?”
Ellie tidied up, putting pens that were lying around into a wooden cup and piling up the pads of sale slips. “I run a business here. My phone rings all day.”
“You’re not being accused of anything, Ellie.”
“Not yet,” she said in a tight voice.
“You don’t get it.” He walked toward her. “You’re one of us. We came to you for help…specifically to you. You were paid to do something for your country, and you did an excellent job.” His voice was gentle. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Nate was assigned to this, too.”
Hawes nodded. “Yes, he was. Unfortunately, he’s taken off. But you haven’t. You’re right here. You can understand why his actions and yours are being perceived very differently by the top brass.”
Ellie used the towel to wipe a spot on the counter. “To tell you the truth, I don’t understand what Nate is being accused of. His assignment was to bring back the Robert Morris flag. We did that. Now, because some crook pulled a fast one, you’re going to crucify the messenger?”
“Things are more complicated than that.”
“They don’t have to be. Job assigned, job completed,” she said stubbornly. “And as far as Nate running, you and your ‘top brass’ might just be jumping the gun, you know. To my thinking, the fact that he’s not in touch with us could only mean that he’s hurt.” She cleared her voice, clamping down on her emotions. “Something might have happened to him.”
Hawes leaned on the counter, his dark eyes burning into her. “Ellie, Nate is being accused of masterminding this whole thing.”
“He’s been working for you people practically forever. Why would he do that?”
“There was an incident about a year ago where he killed a teenager. We had him in therapy with the Bureau shrinks and moved him to a less stressful position. The fact is, Nate was scarred by that shooting. Mentally, I mean. He’s become cynical. Even talked about leaving the Bureau if we didn’t move him back to what he sees as a better job.” Hawes took a deep breath. “When I phoned him about the Schuyler flag, he’d already heard about the fire. He knew he’d get the assignment. Now we have a trail of evidence at least a mile long that makes it look like Nate’s responsible for everything from destroying the Schuyler flag to rigging the final auction to routing forty million dollars to a Swiss account.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“He paid your friend Ray Claiborne to con you.”
She shook her head.
“The auctioneer Philips was a fake, too. We can’t find any such person. The house where the auction was held is vacant; the owners are in Europe and don’t know anything about it. Nate set you up all the way.”
“I don’t believe any of it.”
“Neither do I.”
His words knocked the wind out of her. She looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t?”
“What I do believe is that someone is trying to set him up. And that’s the reason for why I’m here. We need to move fast. Whoever these people are who are behind this are operating in a search-and-destruct mode.”
Ellie rubbed her cold arms. “Why? What do they want?”
“I don’t have all the answers. But think about it. If you wanted to hang this on Nate, what would you do? You need to eliminate the key witnesses who can clear Nate. The ones who are still alive. If we can protect them, we might have a chance.”
“Who do you mean?”
Hawes glanced at the window when a car came to a stop in the middle of Pine Street. The rain was pounding on the roof and hood of the car. The couple inside pointed at something in Ellie’s window display. “Goddamn tourists. Can you turn off the light?”
She was reluctant, but she turned off the desk lamp. Only the lights in the display window remained lit.
“Who could help Nate?” she pressed.
“One of them is this Ticonderoga cop, Tom McGill, who was in ICU until Monday…when he disappeared.” He watched the car outside drive away.
“What do you mean, he disappeared?”
“The hospital claims there was a legit patient transfer to another facility, but now there is no sign of McGill. All the paperwork has since disappeared, too. The main thing is that we can’t find McGill anywhere. He could be dead, but I’m hopeful that he’s out there, alive.”
“How can McGill help Nate?”
“Two people run the guy down. My hope is that maybe he can identify them. Maybe they are even the same ones who destroyed the flag. I know this is tenuous, but from the beginning that cop was keen on helping Nate and working with him. So I figure something might be going on there. There has to be a connection. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be missing, too.”
“That could be read another way,” she said. “Somebody could insinuate that McGill might have been an accomplice rather than a bystander.”
“Better reason to find him and clear the air,” he challenged. “Then there’s the kid.”
“Christopher Weaver.”
Hawes leaned over the counter toward Ellie. “The kid saw it happen. He can identify the inside man. He heard the nickname of the guy on the radio. He can totally clear Nate, which puts him totally at risk. Now no one but Murtaugh knows where Chris is hidden. Unless you know.”
She shook her head. “If Nate is not hurt, and he thinks Christopher can help him, he’d bring him forward himself.”
“But what if you’re right? What if Nate is hurt? What happens if these other guys get to the kid first?” His giant paw trapped Ellie’s hand on the counter. “You can help me find him, Ellie. I say this for both of their sakes. The people behind this conspiracy are dangerous. This is the time for you to help both of them.”
Ellie took back her hand. “Nate didn’t tell me where he was taking him.”
“Chris trusts you. He’s not going to stay with strangers for too long. He’ll run away and come to you. But the guys behind the conspiracy know that, too. They’ll be waiting for him right outside that door.”
She stepped back from the counter.
“How are you going to stop them, Ellie? Who’s going to protect you?” he asked, his voice hard. “One bullet will finish the kid. They don’t even have to come inside. He’ll step in front of a window, and he’ll be dead before he hits the floor. Chris will be dead, and they’ll be gone. Nate will never have a chance.”
She shook her head and walked away from him. “You can’t protect him any better.”
“Of course I can, Ellie. We’ve got the organization and the resources to do it. Chris will make it with me. He hasn’t got a chance with you.”
Outside, the street lit up like midday for an instant, and a second later, the thunder exploded, shaking the building and rattling the glass. When the lights flickered momentarily, Ellie moved to the bottom of the stairs.
“Is he here?” Hawes followed her.
Ellie turned around, blocking his path. “Who?”
“We don’t have time for games,” he barked. “If the kid’s here, they could have
seen him come in. They could come in here after him anytime. We have to get him out of this place.”
“He’s here because he trusts me,” Ellie replied, holding her ground. “I can’t and I won’t hand him over unless he’s willing to go.”
Another peal of thunder rolled through the building. The lights in the front of the shop flickered again.
“Take me up. Let me talk to him. I won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
The wind outside had picked up. Sheets of rain slapped at the front windows of the store. Ellie looked up the dark stairs. The lights in the studio on the second floor were off, and she hadn’t turned on any coming down the stairs, either.
“I don’t want you to scare him.”
“I won’t. I have grandchildren Chris’s age. I’ll treat him like one of my own.”
She took the first step, and then slowly she took the second. He followed.
“Christopher isn’t the only one who can help clear Nate,” she said.
“Without knowing if McGill is still alive, the boy is the best witness in Nate’s corner.”
“No. I am.” She continued up the stairs. “I was with him every step of the way. I can be used as an alibi for each incident.”
“When this whole thing goes to trial, I’m sure his lawyer would want you as a witness.”
“I don’t believe they have enough to even arrest Nate.” Ellie glanced over her shoulder at him on the first landing.
“Unfortunately, there’s enough.”
“Let’s start from the beginning. You said yourself, the day that the Schuyler flag was destroyed in Ticonderoga, Nate was in New York. Now, between the agents in his group and the arrangements that had to be made to get him up there, I don’t believe it would be too difficult to prove that he was not in the museum at the time of the fire.”
“You don’t have to be at a particular place to commit a crime. Nobody thinks he did this singlehandedly.”
“My mistake. He had help.” She started up again. “In that case, then Dr. Wilcox at the Smithsonian must be in on it, too, since he was the one who brought Sister Helen into it. And, of course, Sister Helen must be an accomplice, because she gave you my name. Of course, with my criminal record, I’d be a shoo-in. Which brings us to my father, since he was the first one to suggest coming up with a substitute to carry everyone through the Fourth of July date. It’s so convenient to deal with a bunch of ex-criminals, isn’t it?” She stopped on one of the steps and glared at him. “How am I doing?”
