by Michele Hauf
“How’s it going, Lambert?”
And most definitely American. Again, images of the man riding horses and herding cows popped into Xavier's mind.
“It's going well.” Xavier took a seat in the chair before Dixon’s desk. Dixon pushed a little silver tray with wrapped sweets toward him, but Xavier shook his head politely. “I handed over the necklace to Kierce. Sorry about the cock-up. I hadn’t anticipated another thief being on the scene at the ball.”
“Seems she managed to snag the prize from you with relative ease.”
Xavier stopped a protest with a tight jaw. “I got it back. It’s now safely in our hands.”
“Right. You talk to Walters lately?”
“Three weeks ago?”
Michael Walters was the psychologist on staff. Monthly visits with the shrink were required of all the agents, either in person or via Skype. Xavier didn’t mind. But he wasn’t about to strip himself bare and start talking about his daddy issues. He didn’t have any. Really. He'd left the entitled old bastard in his past where he belonged.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not at all.” Dixon pulled a black file in front of him and opened it. “I have a new assignment for you. I know you like to keep busy. You’re about the only one who can handle this one.”
“What’s that, Monsieur?”
Dixon tapped the file. “It’s a recruitment.”
“I’ve never done that before. I thought that was your thing.” After all, Dixon had been the one to visit him in that secret compound away from his jail cell and lay out the conditions of accepting the position with the Elite Crimes Unit.
“I believe you can be trusted to handle this one. We will occasionally use the most persuasive methods possible when luring in a recruit.”
“This person is not incarcerated?”
“No. But we’ve enough evidence to warrant leverage.”
Leverage. Indeed, those details of crimes that were used to create the illusion of a rock-solid case against a person. As well as the perceived threat that they could be put away forever. Euphemisms aside, it was dirty business. But Xavier was not above employing leverage. He was rather pleased he was being trusted with such an assignment.
Dixon closed the file and turned it toward him. The phone rang. The director picked up the rotary phone receiver, and Xavier heard Kierce’s voice on the other line until Dixon turned away from him and pressed the receiver tightly to his ear.
“You’re sure?” he asked. He flicked a steely glance toward Xavier.
Xavier breathed through his nose, knowing they were discussing something related to him. It would never do well to worry. He’d get the info in a few moments. But he couldn't find the interest to look over the file while he waited.
Dixon’s fingers curled into a fist and he pressed it against the desk edge. “Thanks, Quinn. We’re almost finished in here. Uh…arrange a conference room, will you, please?”
The director of the Elite Crimes Unit hung up and eyed Xavier carefully. “There’s a diamond missing from the necklace. Care to tell me about that one?”
Chapter 13
Victor Katirci had no compunctions about deleting the bodyguard he had hired to shadow the Countess de Maleaux. He could not abide incompetency. A thief had grabbed the necklace and still the bodyguard had returned empty-handed? Victor had extracted all the necessary information about the thief's identity and his route the night of the charity ball before the deletion.
Now he stood in the lobby of an apartment complex in the 8th arrondissement staring at the door marked “Concierge.” Apparently the thief had followed a woman to an apartment on the fourth floor, which Victor would search after he'd gotten what he could from the concierge. He could shake down the man without having to use his blade—or with. Didn't matter to him.
When the door opened to reveal a smiling elderly woman with lush silver hair spilling over one shoulder, Victor decided to cool his anger—until the door was closed and he stood inside.
He slammed his hand up under the woman's neck, pinning her to the wall. She struggled but couldn't scream. Her fingernails clawed at his hand, but the cuts were nothing more than a nuisance.
“There was a man here one night ago. Fine suit. He left with a woman who had long brown hair.”
The woman nodded, tears streaming from her eyes.
“What is his name? The woman's name? Do they both live here?”
She shook her head, so he loosened his grip. She gasped and slid down, so he pinned her shoulders to the wall. She sagged against him, but he wasn't about to let her slump or faint.
“I… I don't have his name.” Her voice shook. “Who are you?”
“A friend of the family.” Victor smirked at his joke. “I need to locate the man.”
“I didn't know the man. I only…”
“What?”
“I…the woman. She owns the apartment. But she’s never here. A week every few years. She's gone again. With her cat.”
What did a cat have to do with anything? Toyo had mentioned the same. Victor sneered and leaned in until he smelled the woman's salty fear. “Her name?”
“Chloe,” she managed, and wiped a teardrop.
“Chloe what?”
“Just Chloe. Cats don't generally have surnames.”
The cat? Yeesh. This was going to be a tough nut to crack.
He glanced down the sunlit hallway and sniffed. “Do I smell tea?”
She nodded. “M-mint.”
“I would like a cup. If you please.”
* * * *
Sitting before the boss's desk, Xavier shook his head as the details of the past night dodged about in his brain. He tallied the few things he knew about Josephine—hell, he didn't even know her last name! She was a thief. She was in it for herself. Supposedly she was out of the game. Yet she still did jobs to save her cat.
Had to be more to that. Cats were great, but really? It had to be something deeper. Most likely involving Lincoln Blackwell. Was there more going on than she had let on?
No matter. He should have expected the dirty move from her. Slipping a diamond out of the necklace when she had the chance? That would give her control over him. Not that he could imagine why she would need it—what did she have against him?—but it had been a wise move on her part. Never be the victim. Always play the upper hand. And always keep three steps ahead of everyone else. It’s what had kept him alive and free until… someone had matched his steps and turned him in.
“Lambert?”
“Uh, right. I mean, sorry. There’s a stone missing? Perhaps Lincoln Blackwell removed it when he had it in hand? It could have fallen out during the scuffle after we removed it from Blackwell's home. There was—”
“A collision, I know. You've the battle wounds to back up your story.”
Xavier had forgotten about his eye. The skin around the edge was swollen and maroon. His lower lip still hurt from when he'd bitten it during impact. Toss in a few bruises from his fisticuffs with the mansion guard? Prison had proven much less painful than real life.
“Or…” Dixon leaned forward. “…Josephine Devereaux could have removed the stone from the necklace.”
Josephine Devereaux. So the background check had been completed. Knowing her full name didn't deepen his appreciation for her thievery skills.
“Very possible.” He hated to admit such a thing could have happened on his watch. “Has Kierce finished compiling the code from the other stones in the necklace, or does the missing stone hinge on interpreting the entire thing?”
“Not sure yet. Kierce just noticed it. He’s not finished photographing the other stones. We’ll have to perform a routine search of your home, Lambert. As well as the safe house you occupied last night. Standard procedure.”
Xavier nodded. “Of course.”
He had nothing to hide in that miserable little shack they called a home. Unless Josephine had planted the diamond in the
safe house? Didn't make sense to him. She had no clue whom he worked for or how devastating such a move would prove to him. And—no, the necklace had already been out of their hands by then. Had she removed a stone the night of the ball?
No, her window of opportunity had occurred in the time she had left Blackwell's mansion, retrieved his car, and had picked him up last night.
The tattoo on her forearm niggled at him now. Go ahead, underestimate me. Indeed, he had.
“I’m sorry,” Xavier felt compelled to offer. “I feel as though I’ve failed this mission.”
“You have.” Dixon crossed his arms over his chest. The man's eyes were close together. Predator eyes. They didn't miss his flinch. “But the recruitment assignment remains. I believe you can handle that. In fact, you are the only one who can.” He nodded toward the black file. “Take it and learn it. We'll dispatch you on the recruitment in a day or two after we've gathered our ducks.”
“Ducks, monsieur?”
Dixon waved away the comment. “For now, head into the conference room. Doctor Walters will be in any moment.”
They'd called in the shrink? But he hadn’t taken the diamond! Hell, this felt like the night of his arrest all over again. His heart beat quickly. Accusations, while not stated, had certainly been assumed. Handcuffs weren't necessary. The building's security would keep him locked inside, nice and secure. “Yes, of course.”
He stood, clasping the file to his chest, and nodded to Dixon. As he walked out, Xavier couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t been sacked. Or maybe the sacking was yet to come? Get one last job out of him with the recruitment and then, so long, Lambert. Which meant only one thing: the tombstone.
Closing the office door behind him, Xavier pressed a thumb to his brow. His skin was clammy, and he hadn’t felt so unnerved in years. It took a lot to set him off kilter. Whatever had happened to that stone, he’d find out. He had to clear his name.
Kierce sat up from his hunched position before a computer monitor and nodded. “Sorry, man. I just noticed the missing stone. I had to report it.” The diamond necklace lay before him, the black moiré ribbon curled about the end of his forefinger.
“Don’t worry about it. That's your job.”
“The search team has been dispatched to your apartment and the safe house.”
“I have nothing to hide.” He hoped. He leaned over the desk and tapped the ribbon, avoiding the diamonds. “Can you give me a size and cut on the missing stone, any details that will help me identify it when I do find it?”
“Sure, but is the boss putting you on the hunt?”
Right. He hadn't been told to go after the stone. He'd only been directed to speak to a psychiatrist. But he would not give up on this. His pride demanded he locate the diamond.
“Whatever happens,” Kierce said, “I'm rooting for you, dude. The missing stone was here…” He moved the piece and pointed to six tiny holes in the ribbon. “…the first on the left side of the necklace. It should be a match to the stone opposite it on the strand.” He slid the necklace out of Xavier's reach. “I'll get carats and cut for you as well. Give me a few minutes?”
Xavier pressed his palm to his chest, a pacifying move that kept him from snatching for the thing. “Not a problem. I’ve a meeting in the conference room.”
“And a recruitment assignment, eh?”
“How do you know that?”
Kierce flicked the corner of the file Xavier held. “Recruitment files are black. Who is it?”
“Haven’t had time to glance at it.” And at the moment he had more monumental worries to consider. Another man strolled in from the outer hallway, tugging at his tightly knotted Windsor. “There’s the shrink now.” Xavier sighed heavily. “I hate these damned head trips.”
“I kind of like them.”
Xavier almost commented that the loner who spent all his time at the office—yes, even through the night—hadn’t anything more exciting to look forward to, but he kept his mouth shut. He liked Kierce.
Doctor Michael Walters gestured he follow as he strode down the hallway toward the conference room. Xavier dutifully followed.
* * * *
Victor Katirci wandered the living room of the female thief’s apartment. Madame DaCosta had told him her name was Josephine Devereaux, but hadn't been able to produce any records of rental agreements because she didn't take care of the building's paperwork. Mademoiselle Devereaux had only stayed in the apartment two days recently, though she'd owned the place for years. And then the other night she'd frantically handed the concierge her cat and told her she'd be back.
That was the night Alex Toyo had broken in, Victor determined, inspecting the living room windows. None were broken. Had the concierge time to replace the glass? It hadn't seemed that she'd been aware of the altercation that had occurred in this apartment, and he hadn't wanted to mention it. The less she knew, the better.
There was only the one chair, broken to splinters and placed in an empty cardboard box sitting near the front door, as if in wait of removal. In the kitchen, one place setting sat in the cupboard. In the fridge he found a half-eaten, foil-wrapped ham-and-cheese baguette. Smelled edible. Victor took a bite. Passable.
Striding into the bedroom with the sandwich in hand, he smelled citrus wafting out from the bathroom. Girlie smells. He ran his tattooed fingertips over the rumpled bed sheets. Not a stray hair left behind. A few dresser drawers had been left open. A quick leave, then. The concierge said Devereaux had returned for the cat earlier today and hadn't gone upstairs to her apartment. She'd simply returned to the waiting cab.
Tossing the crumpled foil onto the bed, he checked inside the closet. Few items of clothing remained, and on the floor sat an open bag of cat food. Victor lifted the bag, checking behind it, then squatting to press the wall for secret—
“Ahahaha.” He chuckled as the wall panel gave, and he pushed it inward to reveal a hollowed-out cubby.
He pulled out a U.S. passport for “Leda Stone,” some American money, a German passport in the same name, and euros.
“America or Germany?” he asked himself. “With a cat.”
The answer was obvious.
Chapter 14
Oddly, Xavier always fell into an ease with the shrink in a matter of minutes. Maybe it was the man's quiet Welsh accent. Perhaps it was the calm atmosphere of the conference room, which sported leather chairs so huge, even a large man could get lost in them. While normally he would sit up straight and face the door (never put your back to the door), with Walters he melted into the chair.
They spent the first few minutes discussing Xavier's getting along with the Elite Crimes Unit and his living conditions, as usual. Xavier mentioned he'd need a new car, but he knew the shrink wasn't the man to whom he should report an acquisition request.
And then the slam, as Xavier always thought of Doctor Walters' sudden and firm move to the tough questions.
“How are you feeling about the person responsible for turning you in when you had just walked out of the Hortensia heist?”
That's what he always called it. Xavier had taken Marie Antoinette's Hortensia diamond from the storage room in the National Art Museum in Bucharest. On a stop during its cross-country European tour, it had been scheduled for public display two days later. Of Indian origin, the peachy pink diamond weighed in at over twenty carats and had been purchased by King Louis XIV. Pink diamonds were incredibly rare. The stone was rumored to have a crack in it, but Xavier hadn't the opportunity to look it over before he was apprehended by the politia Romana. He hadn't even considered running. The idea of being caught red-handed always occurred to him, but he'd never thought it could happen. He’d been too cocky. Because, yes, he'd always signed his jobs with that little chalk fox drawing. “Stunned” was putting it lightly as the handcuffs had clutched about his wrists.
“I haven't given it another thought.” Xavier rubbed his jaw and eyed the shrink.
Walters’ br
ow rose in that infuriating I-know-you're-lying-but-do-you manner.
“You're telling me if I had a file that named your accuser, you wouldn't have any desire to read it? I could simply burn it?”
“Do you have such a file?”
Doctor Walters smirked and set aside his notepad. He rose and poured himself another cup of coffee. “It's early.” He gestured toward an empty mug on the table, but Xavier shook his head. “Suit yourself.”
Coffee would have pumped adrenaline through his system. He only drank it when headed toward a job.
“Tell me about Josephine Devereaux.”
Xavier rubbed a hand along his thigh. The shrink probably knew as much as he did about the woman. But that was how this mind-trip stuff worked, so he went with it.
“She's a thief. Lincoln Blackwell yanked her out of retirement to steal the same diamond strand the ECU sent me after. She managed to extract the necklace from me. I then used her to get it back.”
“Is she pretty?” Walters sat across the massive conference table and sipped his coffee while eyeing him over the mug rim.
“Gorgeous.”
“Did you have sex with her?”
Xavier shook his head and planted both palms and forearms on the table. “No. There wasn't time.”
“But you would have, if there had been time?”
To answer that one truthfully or not? He was damned if he did and damned if he did not, so… “The thought crossed my mind. Relationships are not easy when in the ECU. A man has to work within the playing field he's been placed on.”
“I understand. But do you believe she may have detoured you from focus on your job?”
