“It’s been two years. After high school, I went for a degree in political science. By the time I graduated, I no longer knew what I wanted to do. I totally changed course and brought my mother a lot of anxiety by joining the Marine Corps. After a couple of tours in Afghanistan, I realized I could no longer stomach seeing my friends getting blown up day after day. I got out, went back home to New York, considered going to the police academy, become a cop like my old man and my grandfather before him. Keep up the old Irish tradition. Then a P.I. friend down here offered me a job as his partner and I thought, why not? My very first case was a missing kid, a little three-year-old boy, abducted by his father. The mother was so distraught she couldn’t think straight. Her ex-husband was a real mental case. She was terrified he would harm their son rather than give him back. The cops were dragging their feet and weren’t getting anywhere.
“She came to us. I was able to trace the father after a couple of days. He was holed up in a motel with the boy and was threatening to kill himself and the child. I calmed him down, told him if he released the child to my care, I would talk to the mother about not filing charges. It took about three hours, and he finally turned him loose. The poor kid was scared stiff. Then the cops got there. They had me talk to the father some more and I persuaded him to come out. They cuffed him and I took the boy back to his mom. It was one of the most satisfying things I ever did. I was hooked and I haven’t looked back since.”
Jessie nodded. “Must have been incredibly stressful.”
“It was. Of course, most days are pretty routine. There’s the usual stuff, background checks for employers and real estate agents, property owners worried about potential renters. Then you have spouses checking on each other, divorce cases and lawsuits. And with all those online dating sites, people want to make sure they’re not being conned. Unfortunately, it happens more often than you think. There is no lack of crooks out there.”
“How is it working out with your partner?”
“He passed away last year. An aneurism to the brain. He was a nice guy and we got along great. After some thought, I decided to go on solo. I don’t think I could ever find another partner like him,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry. It had to be rough.”
“Yeah. He left behind a wife and two great kids. Two boys, teenagers. For the longest time none of us could get past it, like a raw wound refusing to heal. You try to ignore it, yet you know it’s there. It aches, and when you touch it, you want to scream your bloody head off. They’re doing better now. I see them every couple of weeks. The boys play baseball, so I usually go to some of their games. Sometimes we do pizza and the movies.”
Lilly came to her mind and she nodded. “And the wife?”
He shrugged. “The kids keep her going. She went back to school. She has a couple more years before she gets her nursing degree. She tries to be tough. You can tell it’s still hard for her.” His voice caught in his throat for a moment. “Those two, they loved each other very much.”
After a couple more miles, he switched over to Federal Highway and pulled into a shopping plaza in front of a restaurant. The sign above the door read Casa d’Angelo. “Heard good things about this place,” he said eyeing her cautiously.
“Always glad to try someplace new,” Jessie said.
He let out a long breath and she laughed. From its sleek appearance to the soft lighting and music, the atmosphere was meant to appeal. A smiling maître d’ greeted them and led them to a table in an alcove.
The menu choices were numerous, and Jessie selected the jumbo prawns in white wine, garlic, fresh tomatoes and olives. Liam chose veal Scaloppini with wild mushrooms, fresh tomato, and oregano. They agreed on a bottle of Chardonnay.
After the waiter had poured their wine, they sat quietly for a moment, sipping from their glass, until Jessie leaned forward.
“Now, tell me exactly how you got involved with Courtel.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about the diamonds,” he protested.
“No, you said you weren’t going to bring them up,” she pointed out.
“So, you don’t mind talking about it?” he asked.
“Isn’t that’s why we’re really here?”
He frowned. “No, not at all. I wanted to have dinner with you, pure and simple.”
She scrutinized his face to see if he was telling the truth. He stared back at her with those unflinching eyes, and she decided he was. “Okay, I believe you. But we are going to discuss it anyway. Otherwise it’s going to hang there between us. So tell me all about it.”
“One of my cousins is something or other at the U.S. embassy in Paris. It’s one of those lengthy titles no one remembers. Anyway, he is good friends with Marcel Lebon, the Courtel CEO. They see each other socially and they play golf together. So during their last game, Marcel told him about the heist and mentioned seeking someone in the U.S. to represent Courtel. My cousin brought up my name. Marcel contacted me, we talked, he offered me the job and here we are,” he explained.
The waiter brought their entrees and poured more wine.
“’So now you have the unenviable task of locating the diamonds. Good luck,” Jessie exclaimed.
“There has to be a trail somewhere. It’s just a matter of figuring out where to start.”
She shook her head. “Right now it’s a dead end. Dariel is gone and so is his wife. He could have hidden the diamonds just about anywhere.”
“True. It’s going to take some luck.”
Jessie raised her eyebrows. “Some luck?”
He laughed. “Okay then, a lot of luck. We have to try. We could start by retracing his steps starting with the theft at the airport up to the time of his arrest. It’s not a very lengthy time frame.”
“When you say ‘we have to try’, do you mean you and me?” she asked.
He grinned. “I was hoping that’s what it meant. Are you okay with working together?”
She hesitated. Her preferred method of investigating was to work alone. She liked the freedom of making split second decisions without having to consult anyone else. But the odds of finding the diamonds were slim to none, and having Liam helping her might turn out to be beneficial. Besides, he wasn’t a reporter, so she didn’t have to worry about him competing for the story. Finally, she agreed, but not before adding that they had to lay certain ground rules.
His eyebrows rose. “Sounds serious.”
She nodded. “It is. We don’t keep secrets from each other. If you have a lead, you share. Same with me. Any new ideas along the way? We tell each other. No lone-ranger stuff. Understood?”
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’re tough. I’m fine with all of the above. Are we good now or do we need to shake hands on this?” he teased.
She laughed. “No shaking hands. Let’s say I trust you to remember those conditions.”
He signaled the waiter. “Good. Let’s celebrate this historic agreement. How about some espresso and tiramisu?”
She grinned. “Espresso yes, tiramisu, no. I don’t need a sugar overload right now.”
The waiter took away their dishes. Jessie pushed aside a few crumbs and with her finger, she traced an imaginary line on the white tablecloth.
“Let’s start with Dariel’s timeline. Point A: The airport. On Monday afternoon he took the briefcase. My guess is he hightailed it out of there and didn’t check the contents until he reached a safe spot. Then he got a glimpse at his prize and, lo and behold, there it was, lots of money and precious stones.
“Point B. According to what he told me, he stopped at a jeweler to check on the value of the diamonds. We have to find the jeweler. From what Dariel told me, he didn’t pawn them. But the man might be able to give us an idea of what he planned on doing with them. Point C: The police arrested him at his house on Tuesday evening—”
The waiter arrived with the coffees. Jessie took a sip of the espresso and inhaled deeply.
“Mm…very good. End of the line.”
Liam looked puzzled. “What do you mean, end of the line?”
She scoffed. “It means we have nothing else. He had Monday night and most all of Tuesday to hide the gems.”
“Maybe we should start by taking the drive from the airport to his house, see if any place catches our attention,” Liam suggested.
Jessie shook her head. “That’s just too broad an area. Who knows which route he chose? Plus, I think he may have picked up Lilly from school.”
“Lilly is Thomas’ child?” he asked.
Jessie nodded, smiling sadly. “Yes. She is an adorable little girl. She doesn’t know yet both her parents are dead.”
“No one told her?” Liam asked.
“Right now, she’s in foster care. Her aunt is scheduled to come and take her back to Minnesota in a couple of weeks. The social worker wanted to wait until then to tell her. So, if I want to keep on spending time with Lilly, I have to abide by her rules.”
Liam smiled. “You like her.”
“Actually, even though I’ve only known her a short time, it’s more than that,” Jessie conceded.
He reached for her hand. “I get it. I feel the same way about my partner’s boys. These children don’t deserve to go through the heartache of losing parents. All we can do is try to make life bearable for them at this time. Let them know they’re loved.”
When they left the restaurant, Liam headed back south on A1A. With the windows rolled down they could hear the waves gently washing on shore. Liam suggested a stroll on the beach and Jessie agreed. Parking was not a problem at this late hour. They walked for a couple miles, two dark silhouettes against a sky teeming with stars. The air was brisk and the breeze refreshing. Surprisingly, she enjoyed talking to him and found him to be a good listener. It was close to midnight when he dropped her off at the cottage.
“I had a great time, Jessie.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
“Do we want to start searching for the gems tomorrow?”
“I have a few things to wrap up first. I’ll call you,” she said.
He leaned over and brushed her lips with a kiss. “See you soon then?”
She smiled and he left.
When she went to bed later, she lay awake for a long time, images of diamonds dancing in her head, and intermingled with them, a set of amazing green eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Leaning on the hood of his car, Hakim stared at the façade of the building, musing over the events of the past few months. When Abboud first mentioned using sarin as a weapon of choice for an attack, Hakim was stunned. Nerve gas was not something he had ever considered. To start with, he had no idea on how to obtain it, and the thought of handling the extremely volatile gas made him uneasy.
But as his uncle laid out his plan, he became convinced they could pull it off. Besides, the concept of shaking up the U.S. and its disdainful complacency became more and more appealing to him. After all, it was doubtful the American intelligence agencies would expect such an attack and most likely they would be unprepared. Abboud was extremely careful. He avoided any kind of chatter on the social networks or the usual Internet sites under surveillance by the CIA, the NSA, Homeland Security, or any other shadowy U.S. agencies. Communications between members of the cell were limited to throw-away phones replaced after just a few calls. So far, they had managed to stay completely under the radar.
He told his uncle he would do it.
“Good. You understand how important this will be to our cause. It’s time to show them we will not be defeated,” the man assured him.
“Where do we start?” Hakim asked.
“Keep your eyes open for a possible target. We want to bring about maximum casualties. In the meantime, find an empty building for sale in an area with little traffic. Then get back to me.”
Hakim began his search, spending days on end driving around. It took several weeks of checking various neighborhoods, as far north as Pompano and all the way south to Davie, without much success, until he finally found what he considered a good location.
By chance he had taken a turn onto a side street off Oakland Park Blvd, a short distance west of I-95. After a couple of miles, of driving past dingy warehouses and empty lots overgrown with weeds, the street suddenly came to a dead end. With a sigh he turned around and started back when he noticed an offshoot he’d missed on his way in. A dirt trail partially hidden by a clump of shrubs. He hesitated for a moment, then took it. Narrow and marred by potholes, it was a challenge to navigate.
He was beginning to regret his decision, when he saw it. Just past a junkyard, an unoccupied two-story building with a yellowing For Sale sign taped to a ground floor window. Right next to it was a ditch covered with dark green algae. A mild stench of rotten vegetation lingered in the air. He parked in front of the building and walked back to the junk yard. Littered with rusty carcasses of wrecked vehicles and surrounded by a sagging fence, it had a heavy padlock securing the gate. As he got closer, he noted with some satisfaction a boarded up shed at the center of the property. There would be no neighborly snooping going on from there.
On the way back to the building, he heard the distant rumble of traffic from I-95. Somehow he found it reassuring. Although the highway was far enough, it was still easily accessible.
He eyed the property more closely, noting the peeling paint and the knee-high weeds. He peered in the windows. Although they were smudged with dirt and the interior was dark, he made out a large open space.
He dialed the number listed on the sign. While waiting for someone to answer, he assessed the open field directly across the street. Strewn with rocks and litter, it stretched for about five hundred feet before leading into a densely wooded area. It was perfect. There was plenty of parking all around and total privacy for their business.
Interrupting his musing, a woman picked up, listened to his request and put him on hold for a couple of minutes. When she came back on the line, she rattled off the information in a disinterested voice and he jotted it all down.
“I don’t want you involved in the sale,” Abboud stated, when he told him about his find. “Just sit tight. When it’s time, I will get back to you.”
“It needs quite a bit of work,” Hakim said hesitantly.
“It doesn’t matter. You will have to retrofit it anyway. Once the purchase is completed and I get a copy of the layout, I will provide you with a revised floor plan.”
Three weeks later, Abboud called him back. The purchase had been made under the name of a foreign entity. The key to the property was in a lockbox on the front door. He gave Hakim the code to retrieve it.
Later that day, he brought Jamal along to check out the place. Hot, dank air assailed them as soon as they opened the door. Wrapping paper and clothes hangers littered the floor along with an accumulation of dust and dirt. Bins with remnants of fabric and spools of thread were still stacked against the walls. A clothing factory maybe. No doubt the place had sat empty for a very long time.
On the bright side, the electricity and water were turned on. Hakim promptly tried the air conditioner. After emitting some suspicious noises and an initial wave of tepid air, it suddenly blasted cold air into the cavernous space.
A small area had been converted to a kitchen. It consisted of a dirty sink, a couple of cabinets with missing doors, a stained Formica countertop and a rusty old refrigerator. Jamal cautiously opened the door. A coke can sat on the top shelf. He reached out and took a hold of it. It was cold. He turned to Hakim. “Hey, believe it or not, this piece of shit still works,” he declared with a grin.
On the opposite end of the first floor, they found a closet sized bathroom with a sink and a toilet, both of them filled with vile brownish water.
A narrow stairway led to the second floor. It was bare except for a couple of old metal desks and office chairs. Another bathroom had a filthy shower, and a hole in the floor where the toilet once stood.
“Man, this place is a fucking mess,” Jamal said.
> Hakim nodded in agreement. “It’ll keep us busy for a while.”
“What the hell are we going to do here anyway?”
“Whenever we’re done with the remodeling, Abboud will let us know what comes next. Then we’ll go over everything. In the meantime, we follow his plan and we don’t ask questions,” Hakim said.
Jamal gave him a strange look and shrugged. Later, the group met at the computer shop and Hakim informed them they had a new home. He sensed a buzz of excitement when he told them they would be moving in as soon as possible. When they joined the cell, he had made it clear they were preparing for an attack. Then time passed and they were growing impatient. Waiting was not their strong suit. Now at last, they were moving forward.
The following morning, a mail truck stopped at the computer store to deliver an express package. As promised, Abboud had sent the instructions for remodeling their new building.
An account had been set up for them at Home Depot. Hakim rented a large truck and picked up supplies. Over the next couple of weeks, the men replaced windows and toilets, repaired flooring, sawed plywood and drywall and erected walls to partition the first floor into basic living quarters. Every morning, they started early and worked late. Every night, covered with sweat and grime, they collapsed on their narrow cots, too exhausted to complain.
Once the remodeling was completed downstairs, Hakim went over Abboud’s detailed instructions for the second floor. He quickly realized he did not have the expertise to handle the job by himself. Luckily, Mohamed had worked in the building trade for several years and he put him in charge of the project.
Abboud had made it quite clear. Building the lab would be a difficult and challenging task. The slightest variation from the plan could end up costing them their lives. For security purposes and in order to have an unobstructed view into the room, the plan required the installation of double pane glass panels on one of its two interior walls. The remainder of the walls had to be packed with double insulation and covered with thick sheets of heavy plastic.
All went well until one particular day turned out to be plagued by mistakes. They had to take down previous work, and start over. Tempers flared and a confrontation exploded between Jamal and Abdul. Mohamed intervened and they calmed down. But the rest of the day, discontent hung in the air like a smothering blanket of haze. It all came to a boil again later that evening. The men were seated around the table eating dinner when Hakim sensed Abdul’s persistent stare.
Diamond Lilly Page 11
