by Meg Gardiner
When we stepped off the elevator into the foyer of Crescendo Ltd., the church lady behind the receptionist’s desk glanced up in surprise. She was wearing a wild green head wrap and a cross bigger than Sister Cillian’s. The sound system was playing “Start Me Up.”
She frowned, looking over my hair, the contacts and glasses, my fashionable filthy trousers, which had a big black stain on them, thirty yards of grime I’d picked up sliding down the escalator in the Bond Street tube station. Her forehead wrinkled, as though we were in the wrong place for our audition. London kid, felon, wheelchair punk, and me, Chrissie Hynde.
“We’re the Pretenders,” I said. “Kani Tanaka is expecting us.”
She got on the phone. A minute later, Manga Barbie came through the frosted-glass door looking nervous. I smiled at her.
“We need your expertise, and we need it in the next fifteen minutes,” I said.
She led us back into the archive. Georgie gazed out the windows at the Santa Monica Mountains, acting as though she had just stepped onto the surface of Jupiter.
“Can we see the Hollywood sign?” she said.
Kani did a double take, perhaps at hearing the English accent coming from a biracial kid. Most Americans don’t expect black girls to sound like Narnia characters. She got Georgie a soda and let her watch a movie on one of their cinema display screens.
I got out my laptop. “When I was here last time, you explained that you handle the remastering of rare recordings.”
“Right.” She chewed on a fingernail. “What’s this about?”
“Preserving evidence of a crime,” Jesse said. “And about how you snitched on Ms. Delaney when she visited the archive earlier.”
I said, “After I left the vault, you called somebody. They caught up with me ten thousand miles later and kicked the crap out of me.”
She went rigid. “I didn’t know. . . .” She glanced at Jesse’s face, the split lip and scrape on his forehead.
He smiled at her. “Wasn’t me. I’m just Ms. Delaney’s lawyer.”
She went even more rigid.
My laptop booted up. “We need you to duplicate a file and pull it onto a disk. And it’s partially encrypted.”
She said that even if the file had been encrypted originally, once it was loaded onto my machine she should be able to find a way to duplicate it. She would run it through a virus filter, but simply transferring it to another storage medium shouldn’t be a problem. Even if it was, the part of the file we planned to give to Rio had been decrypted by Jax.
Jesse gave her his business card and the billing information for the firm. It took fifteen minutes. When she finished, she handed me two flash drives. I gave Jesse my laptop, put one drive on the chain around my neck, and handed Kani the key to the safe-deposit box.
“I need to access the box.”
I put the second new flash drive in the vault and checked my watch. We were down to an hour and forty-five minutes.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Jesse said.
“Yes.” I called to Georgie. When she came over, I said, “I have to go somewhere for a while. I want you to stay with P.J. Okay?”
Her face seemed to say that this wasn’t part of the bargain. This didn’t fit with Code Black rules. Once more it hit me, even harder: What was I going to do about her? I couldn’t keep her by my side day and night until Jax turned up. I couldn’t leave her on her own or send her back to London. And yet I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, and felt as though I were about to break a promise to her.
But the bottom line was this: If I didn’t stop the Sangers, she would never be safe. The only way to protect her was to choke off their lust to have her. And the only way I could do that was by walking outside into the turmoil of Los Angeles and rolling the dice.
“I know it’s hard. But trust me, Georgie.”
Her lips pressed together. For a second she looked as though she were going to throw a tantrum. Then she softened.
“You’ll be back, right?” she said.
“Absolutely.” To P.J., I said, “Starbucks. Wait with her there. No place else.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
I gave Georgie a hug. She was warm and yielding in my arms. “See you soon.”
She pressed her head against me. “Hurry.”
Jesse and I rode down in the elevator together. He took two more aspirin, passed me his water bottle, and I downed another No-Doz.
“I wish it didn’t have to come to this,” he said.
“It was always going to come to this. There’s no way around it unless I want to flee to Tahiti and live under a false identity, leave Dad and Georgie and you behind, abandon everybody.” Once again I checked my watch. “Synchronize?”
A smile darkened his face. “I leave you with Jax for two days and you come back with tradecraft.”
“Let’s hope it works.”
We walked out into the echoing lobby. My Thai phone didn’t work in the U.S., so Jesse handed me his. I found the sheet of paper with Christian Sanger’s phone numbers on it. Sunlight was pouring across the lobby, fracturing gold on the plate-glass windows, burnishing the marble floor. Giving Jesse a last look, seeing his faith in my steadiness, I dialed.
“Elysium Concierge,” a woman said.
“Evan Delaney calling for Rio Sanger. Get her.”
People flowed around us, talk and laughter echoing up to the ceiling. I could feel the No-Doz kicking in, the jitters ramping up my nervous system.
Rio’s voice came on, slow and suspicious, like a thick tongue sliding over me. “I gave you a message phone number. Use that, not this line.”
“I have the file. I’ll exchange it for my father. We do it now.”
“You are very impolite.”
“However, there’s a problem with the file.”
“So she does not like what she learned about Daddy. Such a shame.”
Jesse watched me. I nodded at him. This was as I had suspected: Rio didn’t know about the NSA satellite footage. She knew only about the hidden camera in Hank’s house. This was good. This might work.
“I’ve busted my ass going around the world to collect the Riverbend file. I got everything I possibly could, but there’s one piece missing and I can’t obtain it.”
“That wasn’t our deal.”
“Let’s not talk about our deal. You screwed our deal. The first chance you had, you double-crossed me. We’re going to talk about a new deal.”
“We will not. You will do what I say.”
“You’re not listening to me. There’s a piece I can’t get, because you hold the key to it,” I said. “I will give you the videos of Hank’s death. But if you want the money, you have to tell me where my father is.”
There was a restive quiet on her end. This was the crux of it. I listened, hoping to hear her sound disconcerted.
“Didn’t Christian tell you about that part? Oh, wait—he couldn’t. He was too busy trying to capture a little girl. Well, child snatching was a nice diversion, but I know what you’re after. I’d like to split it with you, but I can’t. Because I don’t know where Dad is. Only you do.”
“Stop talking in riddles.”
“The last piece of the Riverbend file is encrypted. And that’s the piece that provides the location of the bearer bonds. If you want to get the money, you need the decryption key.”
Now, I hoped, I was talking a language she understood.
“The money,” I said. “Jax Rivera’s private blackmail stash.”
Jesse watched, rubbing his palm over his leg as though it ached. I was flying by the seat of my pants. His expression said, Sail on, girl.
“Rio, I know you never planned to tell me where Dad is. You wanted to get the Riverbend file from me and leave him to die. But I’m telling you that if he dies, you’re screwed.”
“I think you do not understand. I hold the cards here.”
“Then deal. The final piece of the puzzle is a type one crypto key. And the reason I ca
n’t give it to you is that Dad has it.”
“What?”
“The crypto key consists of two numbers—an algorithm and a time stamp. Dad has the first number engraved on the inside of his Naval Academy ring. The second he memorized,” I said. “Which means you need to get those numbers from him. Now. While he’s still alive.”
There was a long silence that slowly seemed to congeal to anger. “You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Prove this.”
“We don’t have time for this game. Rio.” I let out a breath in exasperation. “You know I have the file. Hank shooting Jax. Dad shooting Hank. The daughter Hank had with Jax, sent to boarding school in England. Jax encrypted all the information so nobody could access it unless she wanted them to. Dad’s the only other person with the decryption key, because he was involved in the Riverbend operation.”
She remained silent. Assessing, I hoped. Without effort I put desperation into my voice.
“I’ll give you the file. Tell me where to bring it to you. Look at the videos yourself. You can see Dad wearing the ring. He never takes it off. He threw away his wedding ring when he divorced my mom, but the academy ring he’ll take to his grave.”
I walked slowly toward the exit. My heart was drumming out a staccato cadence. She had to buy this. I had no other option and no more time.
“I’ll meet you,” I said.
“You will not. You will drop the file off where I tell you.”
Jesse paced me, saying nothing, watching my face.
“I need some guarantee that if I drop off the file, you’ll release Dad.”
“You get nothing. You do what I say.”
We rounded the corner to the marble foyer leading out to the street. The automatic doors slid open to cool sunshine and the whir of traffic. Jesse’s truck was parked at the curb in front of the building.
A black-and-white police car was parked behind it. Lily Rodriguez was leaning against the fender. She straightened when she saw us and walked grimly across the plaza, accompanied by two uniformed LAPD officers.
I froze in place. “Oh, God.”
Rio’s voice sharpened. “What now?”
I stepped back. “Jesse . . .”
“Don’t run.” He put a hand on my arm. “Don’t even think about it.”
Lily approached, shaking her head at my brunette hair and slick-but-dirty clothes. She flashed her sheriff’s star.
“Rio,” I said. “The file is at Crescendo Limited in Century City. Box three five seven.” I dropped the phone into Jesse’s hand.
Lily pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Kathleen Evan Delaney? You’re under arrest.”
33
Lily put her hand on my hair and loaded me into her unmarked sheriff’s department car, making sure I didn’t bump my head as she shoved me into the backseat. I sat down, aware that eyes were everywhere staring at me, passersby on the street and several thousand office workers in the surrounding skyscrapers. She shackled me to a ring in the floor, slammed the door, and turned to shake hands with the LAPD officers.
“Appreciate the courtesy of letting me make the arrest. And the backup.” Tossing Jesse a glance, she said, “You know where you can find her.”
I stared at him, my mouth dry. He wasn’t saying anything. Arguing with Lily wasn’t on the cards. Nor was bail. Or a jailbreak.
She got behind the wheel and pulled out. I felt my nerves frying.
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror, pixie haircut flickering. “You make a hell of a desperado. Extreme Makeover, Fugitive Edition.”
She turned at Olympic Boulevard, drove around the block, and parked on a side street that had a view back to the Crescendo building. Shutting off the engine, she turned and unshackled my cuffs from the ring in the floor.
“If this doesn’t work, it’s my butt on the line,” she said.
“It’s Dad’s life on the line.” I held out my hands to her. “Please?”
She took a moment, as if considering. “Well, seeing as how you called all the way from London and got me out of bed and agreed to surrender yourself to me, and you’re cooperating with our investigation into his kidnapping . . .” She unlocked the cuffs. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I climbed into the front seat. “If this works, Rio will show up across the street like her clothes are on fire.”
Lily poured me a cup of coffee from a thermos. I drank it in four seconds.
“Caffeine bender?” she said.
My ears were humming, my bones were humming, my hair was humming. I needed another cup. I needed her to hook me up to an electrical socket.
“I can’t condone what you’ve done, you know,” she said.
“I can hope for some understanding.”
“Chica, you’re doing this for your pop; you think I don’t feel for you? But prosecution is out of my hands. The DA will make that decision. And you know there’s a federal warrant, too. Unlawful flight.”
“Yeah.”
That was bad enough. I didn’t mention that Jax had provided me with a fake passport. We watched the traffic flow past on the boulevard. I could no longer see Jesse’s truck. He had driven farther down Century Park East to wait.
“What else has your investigation come up with?” I said. “The bounty hunter—have you traced his phone calls?”
“We’re making progress. Speaking of which . . .”
She got out her phone and called the department to ask whether there was an update. The sun slid between two skyscrapers and threw a streak of light onto the street. I glanced at my watch again.
She hung up. “They’ll get back to me within the hour. And staring at your watch won’t make things happen any quicker.”
“Dad doesn’t have much time.” I held out my coffee cup. “Uno más. Fast.”
As she poured, I glanced across the street at the crowded Starbucks in the lobby of the Jenkins & Strachan building. P.J. and Georgie were at a table inside. I didn’t have time to get them to a major international news studio, so they were sitting surrounded by one of the biggest law firms in Los Angeles. Let somebody try something. “I’ll sue” beats “It’s a scoop” any day.
Fifteen minutes later by my watch, the black Mercedes rolled down the street and stopped outside the Crescendo building. A woman climbed out. She strode toward the entrance, looking up at the skyscraper.
Lily straightened. “Is that her?”
Her black hair was winched into a chignon. She wore a sable-trimmed coat that swept out behind her like a blade, and snake-print jeans slicked to her body like saliva. Her boots had heels sharp enough to give somebody a tracheotomy. She swept through the doors into the building.
“It’s her,” I said.
She got on the phone. “Blackburn, she’s here.” She listened. “Got it.” Hung up. “How long you think?”
“Ten minutes, fifteen max,” I said.
It took her twelve. Rio dashed out of the building and jumped in the Mercedes. She roared away from the curb and out of sight.
Lily started her engine and called Jesse. “Heading your way.” She listened and hung up. “He’s got her.”
We turned onto Century Park East. Down the block I saw the Mercedes, and the truck pulling into traffic fifty yards behind it.
A brown station wagon zoomed past us. The driver honked and gestured for us to pull over. I gaped at him. He accelerated past us, raced down the block toward the pickup, swerved into Jesse’s lane, and braked, forcing him to stop.
“Oh, my God,” I said.
It was Drew Farelli. Lily kept cruising down the avenue. Drew hopped out of his car and ran to the window of the truck. His cannoli cheeks were bright red. Jesse leaned out the window, hands in the air. We drove past.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I said.
“He’s late.” Lily tossed me her phone. “Tell Jesse to calm down.”
“What are you talking about?” I turned on her. “You called Farelli?”
“Y
es. I was liaising with the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
I felt my hopes drying to dust. “Lily, what if he calls the FBI and gets them to take me into custody?”
“Get a grip. This is a question of timing, not betrayal. Everybody’s going to know you’re here real soon. You’re not going into Witness Protection. Besides, what do you think, Farelli’s going to get the FBI to steal you from me? I got you first. You’re my prisoner.”
I looked out the back window. Farelli stood next to the truck, arguing with Jesse.
Lily’s voice turned hot. “Besides, Farelli and Nicholas Gray have been busting my chops. Claiming the kidnapping is a crock, but trying to squeeze information out of me. This is our chance to prove we’re right,” she said. “Gray got so high and mighty when he thought a federal agent had been killed. Let me rub it in that Davies turned out to be a skanky bounty hunter.”
“Lily, you should have told me.”
“I can’t do everything by myself. L.A.’s Farelli’s jurisdiction. If we need him to, he can grease the wheels, keep Gray and the FBI off your back for the next few hours at least.” She looked at me, annoyed. “You want Farelli to believe your dad’s been kidnapped? He’s about to.” She shook her head. “You’ve been running too hard. This isn’t a one-man rescue.”
“Fine.”
I slumped in my seat. The Mercedes slid through traffic half a block ahead.
Within ten minutes we hit the 405, heading south. Lily’s car had a sonorous engine, and she drove with rabid rock music barking from the stereo. The Mercedes cruised along the freeway two hundred yards in front of us. Clouds and sunlight strobed over me, and the sun arced across the sky like a shooting star.
I heard Lily talking on the phone, and jerked upright.
