by Sara Rosett
Zoe darted after him. There was no way she was letting him out of her sight, but he’d picked the perfect moment to leave. He slipped out the doorway seconds before a new tour group filtered in, blocking her exit. She fought her way through the doorway and found the next room empty except for a man in a brown sweater and a woman holding tightly to a child’s hand.
Exasperated, Zoe hurried through the displays and across the central area that had once been an open courtyard but was now topped with a steel and glass roof. Weak sunlight penetrated through a thin sheen of clouds and threw a grid pattern of shadows from the ceiling’s steel beams across the court. The museum’s circular Reading Room stood at the center of the Great Court, and she trotted up the stairs that wrapped around the curved wall of the Reading Room to the restaurant.
She hustled into the restaurant and spotted Jack at one of the tables at the back near the low wall that separated the restaurant from the area where a few people were strolling, taking in the view of the court below. His coat was over the back of the chair, and he had on a dark suit with a light blue dress shirt and gray tie. The lunch rush was over and there were only a smattering of people at the other tables. He stood as she approached, smiled politely, and pulled out her chair.
That small, reticent smile slowed her approach. She’d been raising her arm to reach for him, to give him a hug or at least a kiss on the cheek like she and Nico had exchanged, but she slipped into the seat instead.
They looked at each other for a moment. At first glance, he looked the same from his silver-blue eyes down to the tiny scar slightly off-center on his chin, but he had dark circles under his eyes. He was also shooting quick glances around the restaurant as well as the walking area that surrounded it. He’d always been one to hold back, be reserved and cautious, but there was an extra layer of wariness overlaying him now.
The waiter approached and placed a mug in front of her and a bottled water in front of Jack. “I ordered you a hot chocolate. They don’t have ginger ale.”
“Thanks,” she said, a little surprised that he’d thought to ask for her favorite drink.
“Do you want anything else?” Jack asked, and Zoe shook her head. She’d had a sandwich in the museum’s café earlier. Now her stomach was churning. “Just the drinks for now,” Jack said to the hovering waiter, who removed their menus and left.
She smoothed her hand across the white tablecloth. “Quite a place to meet.” Her gaze strayed to the rooftop of the ancient temple that they were on eyelevel with.
“It’s quieter up here, less people, but still a public place.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m trying to avoid a repeat of last time. Less chance of you punching me here.”
“It was a kick to the gut, and I didn’t know it was you.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement of her point. “Why did you wait so long to come?”
“I got your package a few days ago.” His gaze snapped to her face, and she realized that he wasn’t only wary of what was going on around them, he was wary of her, of her reaction. “You thought I intentionally blew you off?” she asked. “I can’t believe this. If you wanted me here sooner, you should have used FedEx, not my mother, to send me a package. You know how unreliable she is. You’re lucky I got it at all.” Some of the tension seemed to go out of him, and he leaned back slightly in his chair.
“There I was,” Zoe continued, “sitting on my hands for months, waiting for you to contact me. I knew you would...after the way we left things in Italy.” She felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of that kiss. She wished her skin wasn’t so fair, that it didn’t betray her every emotion so transparently. “Didn’t you talk to Nico? Didn’t he tell you what I said?”
“Nico and I don’t talk. It’s too dangerous.”
“But he said you went to see him in Naples.”
“I had to see him face-to-face that one time, but since then we communicate only through the boards. I can’t risk contacting him or you via e-mail or snail mail.”
“But you sent me that sketch through the mail,” Zoe said.
“And that was risky. I could only do that once.”
“So the safer thing to do was mail a package to my mom?” Zoe asked. “You know what she’s like.”
He shrugged. “It was the only thing I could work out. You don’t have an office where I could call you anonymously. My only other roundabout ways to contact you were through Helen or your Aunt Amanda, and I knew the Feds would be watching to see if I got in touch with you through them. I didn’t know any of your clients, so I couldn’t go that route. That left your mom. The fact that you don’t interact with her regularly is a plus. I knew she was unreliable. It was a risk I had to take after I escaped in Venice—”
“Escaped? What do you mean escaped? No one could find you. They all thought you’d drowned.”
Jack watched her a moment. “Who told you I’d drowned?”
“The polizia,” she said quickly then stopped, her thoughts whirling. She tilted her head, thinking over those confusing hours. “No. At first, they wouldn’t tell me anything. Then later, the next day, they showed me their report that said witnesses saw you go under. It said you didn’t resurface.” Zoe leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Are you saying the police took you into custody—secretly—and faked a report? Why would they do that?”
“It wasn’t the police who had me. Well, it was at first. I went to them, actually.” He laughed. “Ironic, now that I think about it. There I was dripping wet, essentially turning myself in, although I didn’t realize it at the time. There were several witnesses who saw me come out of the water. In fact, they pulled me out.”
“That’s not what the police told me.”
“No, they wouldn’t, at least not after they got their instructions.”
“I’m confused. Who gave them instructions?”
“That’s what I’ve been working out for the last several months.”
“Start over from the moment you came out of the water. What happened?”
“Some helpful bystanders bundled me up in blankets—tourists falling into the canals aren’t all that unusual—and waited for the police to show up, which they did. They immediately took me off to a local precinct-type place, which I’d expected. There was quite a bit to sort out. They gave me dry clothes and took my statement. They assumed I was a tourist and had one of their officers translate for me. It was simpler for me to speak English. They didn’t know I could speak some Italian. They put me in a cell and went to make ‘some inquiries.’ I figured it could take a few hours to sort it all out, but by the next morning, I was worried. I could hear two of the officers and understood enough of their conversation to know they were transferring me to an address in the city, an abandoned building apparently. Another party would arrive to pick me up after the police left. When the second officer questioned this, he was told to shut up, and forget he’d ever seen me.”
“But the report, the witnesses...” Zoe trailed off as she remembered Nico’s words about undercurrents and things not being as they appeared. “So you’re saying someone, someone powerful, arranged to have you transferred out of Italian police custody?”
“Yes.”
“Victor Costa?”
Jack had been doing a quick visual sweep of their surroundings, but his gaze snapped back to her. “How do you know about him?”
“I’ve been doing a little research of my own. Keep going. I’ll tell you later.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, I knew I didn’t want to find out who wanted me, at least not that way, so during the transfer, I engineered a boat accident and made it look as if I’d drowned. I put on a good show for the spectators—flaying around helplessly as I went under a few times—then I swam under the water as far as I could before coming up for air. I worked my way over to another street without being spotted. This time when some kindly Venetians fished me out of the canal, I didn’t go to the police.”
“You went to Nico.”
“Yes. It took me a while to get to Naples. I had to do it quietly.”
“How? You didn’t have any money, clothes, or even a passport.”
He traced a line on the tablecloth. “I had some strategically placed assets.”
“Friends?” Zoe asked, thinking of the assets—people—Jack cultivated in his former spy life.
“A bank account in Geneva.”
Zoe threw herself back against her chair. “Terrific. A secret bank account.”
“They’re not as secure as they once were before the privacy laws changed, but I had to risk it.”
“No, I meant the FBI will love that.”
“What?”
“Later,” Zoe said. “Let’s stay focused on your tale here. I’ll add my two cents when you’re done.”
“Tale? You think I’m making this up?”
“Unfortunately, no. Not after this past week, I don’t.” He frowned. She waved her hand. “You got money from your secret stash and went to see Nico. Then what?”
“Then, Nico and I made a two-pronged plan. His job was to get your ring back. I went after Costa.”
Zoe ran her hand along the edge of the tablecloth. “Thanks for that—for getting the ring and sending it to me.”
“I’m glad you got it, despite the unreliable courier.”
He smiled in a way that made it hard for her to break their gaze. She cleared her throat and looked at the tablecloth as she steered the conversation to Costa. “How could you go after Costa? No one knows where he is.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have done your homework, I see.” The waiter circled by. Jack waved him off then leaned forward. “When someone like Costa vanishes, there are always rumors. I’ve been running them down.”
“But he’s been ‘sighted’ all over the world—everywhere from Hong Kong to Argentina. And the whole exercise could be a wild goose chase. It could be someone completely different who wanted you in Venice.”
“True, but I figured that I should start with Costa. He’s been connected to this from the beginning.”
“But why didn’t you just come home? Come forward and tell the FBI what happened?”
“Somehow I didn’t think I’d be welcomed with open arms. I found out the GRS money had been replaced, but I had no proof that I hadn’t taken it in the first place. Then there was the small detail of how I would get there. Showing up with a fake passport would get everything started off on the wrong foot, don’t you think? And, finally, there was the whole incident in Italy—why are you smiling?”
“Because that’s how I think of it, too—the Italy Incident. I do see your quandary. I’m sure the Italian police would certainly be reluctant to let you go, if you came forward...”
“Any police force in Europe, actually. And, if I surfaced and went to the police, then there was the possibility that the person who arranged for me to be transferred out of police custody would do it again.”
“So you went to Hong Kong and Argentina?”
“No, never made it to Hong Kong,” Jack said, and Zoe could have sworn there was a wistful tinge to his voice. “I did check out the Argentina possibility. Nothing there. It was in South Africa this summer that I hit pay dirt.”
“You found him?”
“Yes.” There was a small smile of satisfaction on his face. “I’ve been following him since then, and now I’ve got what I need to prove he’s involved in some fairly significant crimes.”
“Cyber crimes?” Zoe said.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to spoil all my surprises?”
“Just a lucky guess on my part. Go on.”
Jack pulled a narrow computer flash drive out of the pocket of his wool coat. “I’ve got a sampling of what Costa has been up to on this. It should be enough to interest the FBI.”
“Does it prove you didn’t take the money? Or, better yet, does it prove I didn’t take the money?”
Jack sighed. “Unfortunately, no, but it should be enough to turn their attention from me to Costa.”
“So you’re hoping for what?”
“A trade.” Jack carefully put the flash drive in his coat pocket. “The rest of the information on Costa in exchange for any charges against me—or us, if they’re trying to loop you into this, too—dropped regarding the GRS debacle.”
Zoe thought of Sato’s intense questions. “I don’t know if those FBI guys will go for that. You’d better have some amazing stuff on there.” Zoe’s phone buzzed. “I have to take this. It’s about the money.”
Dave Bent didn’t bother answering Zoe’s greeting. “Can you be in my office in half an hour? I need to talk to you.”
“You’ve found something?”
“Yes.”
"I can be there.” Zoe had no idea if it was even possible to make it from the British Museum to Bent’s office in that amount of time, but she wasn’t about to tell him she’d wait until tomorrow.
She grabbed her messenger bag. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”
“Where?” Jack asked, but he was already standing, throwing money on the table to cover their drinks.
“To see a cyber crime expert.”
Chapter Twelve
––––––––
“YOU gave all the GRS information—the account numbers, my details, everything—to some stranger?” Jack asked, his voice slightly muffled from the thick scarf that he’d wrapped around his neck as they left the museum. It covered his lower face and he’d settled a black newsboy cap low over his forehead.
“No. I gave them to a well-respected expert in criminal cyber activity,” Zoe said, waving her arm wildly in an effort to flag down one of the little black taxis outside the museum. “What’s going on with that get-up? It’s not that cold.”
“Keeping a low profile. London is practically the surveillance camera capital of the world.” Jack tilted his head toward a nearby building. Zoe squinted and saw three cameras mounted on the corner, their lenses aimed at the intersection.
“So, this expert. What does he do?” Jack asked.
“He’s a police consultant.” Two taxis whizzed by, their headlights cutting through the growing dusk. She waved more frantically. She wasn’t sure how long Bent would wait at his office. It was already past normal office hours.
“The very people I’m trying to avoid.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Zoe said, as a taxi stopped just short of them and picked up another couple. “The GRS money is missing.”
“No, it was replaced. Banking error.”
“It’s missing again.” As the words sunk in, he closed his eyes briefly. Zoe continued, “I had a visit from the FBI just days ago. They asked if I’d hidden the money in some offshore account. I had to do something. I know nothing about high finance and bank transfers. It seemed a good time to contact an expert, especially since this expert happened to be in the same city that your package was sent from.”
Jack nodded, stepped to the curb, and raised his arm. A taxi swung out of the traffic and stopped at his side. “Show off,” Zoe said as he held the door for her. She gave the address to the driver, and they were off in the mess of stop and go late-evening traffic.
Zoe threw herself back against the seat. “Nico gave me the email address of another cyber guru, of sorts.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Of sorts?”
“Apparently, Ares operates on the shady side of things.”
“Just what I’d expect from Nico. You contacted this Ares character as well?”
“Yes,” Zoe said, a trace of defiance in her tone at his frown. “I’m not sitting around waiting anymore. I tried that and look where it got me. I’m in the middle of an FBI investigation—again.”
Jack rubbed his hand over his brow. “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get in touch with you sooner. I’m doing my best to get this straightened out. I understand you’re frustrated. I am too, but we have to be careful. Do you realize how much ammunition you gave this expert and this Ares guy
?” Zoe could see the taxi driver’s eyes in the mirror. He was watching them more than he was watching the road.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know you’d show up today. I didn’t know about your one-person international quest to bring Costa to justice. I didn’t even know for sure if you were still alive.” The driver’s eyes widened.
Jack noticed the driver’s interest and lowered his voice. “I kept my distance to protect you.”
Zoe blew out a sigh and watched the lights flick by the window. “I know. But it didn’t work very well. Someone tried to pull me off the street into a van while I was jogging.” The driver leaned back an inch.
Jack had been glancing out the back window, but now he turned and focused all his attention on her. “What happened?”
“There were two guys in a van. The driver, who had a unibrow and a shaved head, blocked my path while another guy came out of the sliding side door. He was stocky and dark. Hey—” Zoe pointed out the front window at the red brake lights they were flying toward. “Watch out!”
The taxi jerked to a stop, throwing them forward.
“This is close enough,” Zoe said.
Jack paid for the taxi distractedly, his attention still on Zoe. The driver sent her a scowl before he pulled away. Jack joined her on the sidewalk, and she continued, “Anyway, once the second guy jumped out—well, that’s all it took. I ran for it. I went through that easement in the cul-de-sac.”
They paused on the street in front of the building with Bent’s office. “That’s not good,” Jack said flatly. His gaze swept the street again. “You’re sure it wasn’t a random thing?”
“I’m sure. The driver definitely checked my face before the other guy jumped out. And, there were two of them. It was planned. It was a quiet time with no one else on the street.”
He cursed under his breath.
“I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.” Zoe turned to the door.
Jack caught her arm and pulled her back. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “So glad,” he repeated, staring at her intently. I never thought someone would target you.” Zoe couldn’t look away from his intense silvery blue gaze. “If they’d managed...” His voice trailed off, and her irritation at him receded.
