“And soon after, he collapsed and died of a heart attack at the Ft Lauderdale airport,” Jessie said.
“Exactly. Then your man, Dariel Thomas, took the opportunity offered to him by circumstances—”
“Dariel was not ‘my man’,” Jessie interrupted bluntly, “and unfortunately, he paid dearly for what he did. It was a terrible misfortune for him and his family.”
“You’re right,” he apologized, “it’s a tragedy both he and his wife lost their lives over this.”
“Mr. Donovan—”
“Please call me Liam,” he interrupted.
“Okay. Liam, were the stolen gems conflict diamonds?”
He frowned. “Conflict diamonds?”
“I read about them. They’re similar to blood diamonds. They’re mined in war zones in Africa, and the money is used to fund warlords.”
He shook his head. “No, I assure you, this isn’t the case. Those stones were acquired legally and all necessary documents were completed. There is a paper trail, part of a procedure called the Kimberley Process.”
Jessie nodded. “Right. A passport for diamonds to legitimize their purchase. I don’t understand why the man who was robbed, and his employer, denied he was transporting diamonds.”
“I agree it sounds confusing. It’s actually quite simple. Their reluctance to make it public stems from the fact that moving gems around the world is an extremely risky business. It’s not like you can send a Brinks truck from Africa to Europe. Bringing attention to the way they do it could encourage more robbery attempts. In this instance, the poor guy was attacked and severely beaten, so you can understand their reasoning,” Liam explained.
Jessie nodded. “Okay, I get it. What is your role in all this?”
“Normally, Courtel uses their own investigators. However, they are located in France, and since now it appears the diamonds are here, they hired me to track them down.”
“No offense to you, but why aren’t they working with Interpol or the local police instead of a private investigator?” Jessie asked.
He smiled. “Courtel is cooperating with Interpol, and I’ve already touched base with the local police department. Mostly, my job consists of keeping them in the loop for any progress in the investigation, and if possible, to help with the recovery of the diamonds.”
Jessie sighed. “Well, Liam, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. I was just informed this morning these gems are now part of an FBI investigation. So, just getting any kind of information could prove to be rather difficult. And then there’s this little tiny fact, not to be overlooked… ”
Jessie paused and Liam raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“Dariel hid the diamonds, and no one has any idea where they may be.”
“No one?” he asked, looking at her uncertainly.
She shook her head. “No one.”
“You talked to Thomas before—”
“Before he was murdered? Yes, I did. He didn’t tell me their location. If he had, I would have passed on the information to the police.” She glanced at her watch and stood up. “Now, I have to go. I’m sorry I was no help. I wish you luck in your search.”
Liam got up. “Okay, thanks for your time.”
He started walking away then turned around, “Can I ask you one more thing?”
Jessie sighed.
“Would you consider going to dinner with me sometime?”
“Oh!” she said, taken by surprise.
He smiled crookedly. “I won’t bring up the diamonds, I promise.”
She laughed. “Okay, why not? Give me a call.”
He took her number before strolling out. She stood on the patio for a while longer, watching him walk away.
Chapter Twelve
Lots of colorful umbrellas dotted the sand as a Goodyear Blimp slowly glided through the cloudless blue sky. Wearing dark shades and sitting on the low wall bordering the beach, Nasir Hakim followed the movements of an attractive young woman in a small red bikini, while she lathered sun tan lotion on a fair-skinned little girl. When she was done, she planted a hat on the child’s blonde head, and she dashed off to join other youngsters playing nearby.
He stayed focused on the woman. The first time he laid eyes on her was the night she appeared on the sidewalk on A1A, right after Thomas’s wife crashed her car into the cement pole. The next day, he read an article about the chase and found out her name was Jessie Milner. According to the story, she was a reporter for the Broward News. As of right now, he was fairly certain she didn’t get a good look at him that night. It was very dark when Abdul stopped next to the wrecked car, and they sped away almost immediately.
That whole night turned out badly. He bitterly remembered standing on the stoop in front of the Thomas house with Abdul, when Mandy Thomas pulled up and spotted them. One glance at them, her eyes widened in fear, and she took off at full speed, tires squealing. The two men exchanged a look and Hakim nodded.
They ran down the steps and dashed back to the car. As soon as they jumped in, Hakim opened the glove box and retrieved his gun. Seconds later, with Abdul at the wheel, they barreled down the street just as the other car disappeared around a corner.
“Hurry, dammit!” Hakim shouted.
They flew past several side streets with no sign of the other vehicle. There were only two more turn-offs in the residential area before the street came to a dead end.
“There she is!” Hakim yelled as they were halfway past the first turn. Abdul slapped on the brakes, veered to the right, ran over the sidewalk, and barely missed the corner of a building. As he accelerated once more, the woman picked up speed as well, weaving in and out of the neighborhood, nearly losing him once when she took off down a dark alley and exited on another street. But the rough sound of her engine, reverberating in the quiet of the night, gave her away, and he caught up with her just as she made a turn south onto Federal Highway. Despite the late hour, traffic was still fairly heavy on the busy road, forcing Abdul to come to a stop.
“Go! Go!” Hakim snapped.
Abdul gave him an exasperated look. He pulled out in front of a van to the screech of burning brakes and the sound of an angry horn. He gave the driver the finger, raced around a few more cars, scraping a fender along the way, and barely avoided another collision.
“There!” Hakim shouted, pointing ahead.
It was the woman, tearing across three lanes of traffic before speeding through the intersection onto Seventeenth Street. Reacting quickly, Abdul followed her daring move, and somehow squeezed through the red light. He was now directly behind her. The smile of triumph forming on his lips disappeared as they neared the drawbridge. The ominous sound of the bell announced it was going up, and the woman showed no sign of slowing. Abdul glanced at Hakim.
“Go!” Hakim yelled.
Abdul floored the accelerator and both cars flew over the widening gap across the Causeway, just inches apart, landing with rough thuds on the other side right next to each other. She slowed down for a split second, then took off once again at full speed. Abdul surged forward and struck her bumper with such force that her car careened sideways. Somehow she righted the vehicle and drove on. He caught up with her once more, pulled up beside her, and violently rammed her driver side door. Hakim recalled seeing her eyes fill with panic as she struggled to retain control of the car.
As they neared A1A, he took several shots at her tires. He missed. Realizing she was not going to stop, he aimed his gun at her and fired more shots. In a last-ditch effort to get away, or maybe because she was hit, she picked up speed going into the curve and lost control. Her car swerved onto the sidewalk, squealing as it scraped the wall, tearing off the passenger side mirror, and lurched back onto the road before crashing into a light pole head on. Abdul slammed on the brakes, and pulled up next to her. The front end of her car was wrapped around the pole. The driver’s head was buried in the deployed air bag.
“I don’t think she’ll be talking to us,” Abdul scoffed.
> Hakim lowered the passenger window to get a better look. In the faint reflection of the light post, he saw a dark stain spreading on the airbag around the woman’s head. Blood. At the same moment he spotted another woman running toward them on the sidewalk. He hollered at Abdul to get out of there, and they raced away. His muscles tightened in anger. His only remaining option had been to question Thomas’ wife. But now if she was dead and she knew where the diamonds were, she took the secret with her. Once again, they were back to square one.
Later, when he told Jenna about the chase, she informed him the reporter who witnessed the crash paid Thomas a visit in jail prior to his murder.
“And you tell me this now?” he barked into the phone.
“I didn’t know until a while ago. They had a meeting. I was next door and I heard them talking about the case. So I stayed, pretending to have more work to do on the hard drive. Then they brought up the reporter’s name… You know, I’m taking a lot of chances for you, and I resent it when you don’t appreciate it,” she retorted.
He backed off. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated. We need those diamonds. Call me if you find out anything else.”
Still seething, he threw the phone on his desk. He had to find a way to get back those diamonds. If Thomas talked to this woman, maybe she knew something. So, with no other leads, he decided to keep an eye on her, and hoped she could lead him to the gems.
The night of the chase, she’d run out of a property along A1A. Jenna checked and confirmed it was indeed her address. Despite making several sweeps past the place, he could only see a driveway bordered by lush greenery. There was no visible sign of a house. Surprisingly, the access gate stood open every time he went by. He decided to get a closer look. One evening shortly after dusk, he parked a block away and set out for the property on foot. As before, the gate stood open. He hesitated, almost went in, and then thought it was too risky.
Standing on the sidewalk, he stared at the eight-foot wall facing the road and wondered if it ran around the whole estate. He waited nearby until it was darker, then followed the outline of the wall, keeping a cautious eye on the neighboring houses. He needn’t have worried; there wasn’t a soul around. After twenty minutes, he had covered the whole distance and was back on the sidewalk on A1A. Now he knew, with some satisfaction, that the wall ran around the whole property and the only access was through the open front gate. He went back to his car, then slowly drove up and down the streets in the area until he found the perfect spot to set up his surveillance. As luck would have it, there were only two houses on a nearby dead-end street. One of them looked unoccupied and the other was still under construction, so there was no one to get nosy about a strange car sitting on their street. Plus, by parking at the right angle, he had a direct view of the access gate. Now he could observe all comings and goings from the property.
When the reporter left her house the next morning, he was there waiting. He followed her downtown, where she pulled into the parking garage across from the Broward News building. Hakim slowly drove on past the entrance, pleased to note access was automated. There was no guard to worry about. After following her for a few days without any results, he decided this took too much of his time. He purchased a small GPS tracking device, and while her car was in the parking garage, he attached it under her rear tire well. Next he installed an app on his phone, alerting him every time the vehicle was on the move. Depending on her destination, he could easily catch up with her. If she went to a restaurant at lunch time, he usually chose to ignore it, unless she took a different route afterwards.
So far, the woman seemed oblivious to his tail, but to err on the side of caution, he often switched vehicles. Most of the time, he alternated between Abdul’s dark blue Ford Taurus and his own white Honda Civic. On occasion, he borrowed an aging Toyota belonging to Jamal, another of his men, although he hated that car. It was a piece of shit with a noisy air conditioner that blew only hot air. He was careful at all times, always staying a few car lengths behind. This is how he found out she often went west to a place called the Wildlife Center. Usually she remained there for several hours, and he assumed she did some kind of volunteer work. Once or twice, he was almost tempted to go in and casually inquire about the place, see her eye to eye. Maybe even find out if she would recognize him. Then he realized it would be foolish on his part. After all, if she did, he would be forced to take action right then and there, and obviously she wasn’t alone. There seemed to be at least one or two other women and a couple of men working there at all times.
The reporter didn’t seem to deviate much from her usual routine. There were a couple of surprises along the way as well as a close call or two. One time, she weaved through a residential area, and about the time he was ready to call it quits, she pulled into a driveway, went into a nice house, and came out minutes later with a little girl in tow. Hakim couldn’t believe his eyes. He recognized her from her picture on the newscast after the chase. It was Thomas’ daughter. Now it seemed like they were best friends, hugging and kissing.
He followed them. After she drove straight to the Wildlife Center, he kept going, past the entrance and onto a dirt path. It was riddled with potholes, vegetation closing in on one side, with a steep drop into a ditch on the opposite side. Assuming it was a dead end, he thought it safe to wait there. Then shortly after the reporter’s arrival, along came an old Volkswagen bus pulling out of the Center, a wild-eyed woman at the wheel, flying directly toward him. With his car practically parked in the middle of the path, it was too late to move over. As the driver veered to avoid hitting him, he noticed the reporter peering out the back window. He quickly slumped down into his seat. As soon as they were out of sight, he took off, wondering if he was just wasting time following the reporter.
So far there had been no sign she knew anything at all. Maybe he did it partially because he was attracted to her, not sure if his feelings were triggered by animal lust or something deeper. Somedays, he couldn’t wait to see her. Often at night, wide awake in his bed, he imagined stroking her dark hair, his hands tracing the curves of her slender body, before taking her and making her his.
But there was no time for relationships in his life and furthermore, this woman was an infidel, an American, an enemy of the Islamic State. He had to stop thinking about her, and concentrate on finding the diamonds in order to continue with their plan, which meant everything to him.
Hakim brought his mind back to the present. The reporter and the child were gathering their belongings, taking down the umbrella and getting ready to leave. At one point, the woman turned, gazed his way briefly then continued packing her gear. He walked back to his car and waited.
Shortly after leaving the beach, Jessie pulled in at an ice cream shop. Seated in his car, directly in front of the store’s plate glass window, he had a clear view of the child excitedly making her selection. With no seats available indoors, the two of them came outside and sat at a small table to eat their ice cream. Hakim noticed how the young woman affectionately looked on as the little girl enjoyed her treat.
Suddenly he stiffened, the reporter was looking straight at him. Did she see him on the beach? Maybe he made a mistake parking so close to the store. Then she turned her attention back to the child. He sighed in relief. When they left, he followed them once more. After she dropped off the child and headed for home, Hakim’s frustration mounted. Once again, he would walk away empty handed.
Chapter Thirteen
Jessie pulled into her driveway and found a jeep blocking the way. Annoyed, she parked behind the vehicle and walked to the driver’s window. Liam Donovan glanced back at her with a sheepish grin.
“Did you forget something?” she asked.
“I did. I wanted to ask you out to dinner, but you weren’t answering your phone.”
“So you just show up?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m sorry, it was kind of rude of me. I forget my manners when I’m under the spell of a beautiful woman.”
Her e
yes widened. “A spell? We spent all of what, five minutes together? Aren’t you getting a little carried away here?”
He held up a hand in surrender. “Wow! Wait a minute! Too many questions at once. Can I just answer them one at a time—” he hesitated, then quickly added, “—over dinner?”
She sighed. “You are persistent, aren’t you?”
“Oops, another question. I’m going to have to jot them down.”
Finally, she laughed. “I just got back from the beach. I need to take a shower, so if you still want to have dinner, come back later.”
They agreed on seven o’clock, then he maneuvered around her car and left.
Seven on the dot he was back, wearing dark blue slacks and a blue and white checked shirt. His eyes reflected his appreciation when she stepped out of the cottage in a white sleeveless linen dress and sandals. She took note of his new outfit. “You look different.”
He grinned. “Yeah, believe it or not, I clean up occasionally. In my line of work, it’s preferable to go unnoticed, so shorts and T-shirts are common; I blend in better.” Then he added, “You however, would never just blend in. You look fantastic.”
He drove north, following the shoreline as the setting sun turned the sky into a palette of vibrant colors ranging from soft purple to pale yellow.
“I’m curious. How did you find out about me?” Jessie asked.
He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m a private investigator, remember?”
She eyed him skeptically and he grinned.
“It just so happens my contacts at the police department throw me a few scraps of information here and there. Not to mention your name came up in the article about Thomas’ wife.”
“How long have you doing this?”
“You mean the P.I. gig?”
She nodded.
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