“So this is the name they’ve chosen for their armored transport? Security First? Not very original. Are you required to have the director sign off on the requisition? He’s bound to ask about a company he hasn’t heard of.”
“No, he’s chosen to leave it all to me, which is surprising. But last week I heard that he has some sort of family issue or crisis going on. I suspect it may have to do with a certain woman I’ve seen dropping him off in the morning. I’ve also seen her coming out of his office a few times. She isn’t his secretary, and I’ve met his wife.”
“Good timing for us then, but not for the Missus.”
Hugh pulled a chair over to the desk and sat down to face his wife. “There’s something else I’ve wanted to tell you, but with the call on your mind it wasn’t the right time.”
“Well? Go on then. What is it?” She settled back into her chair and crossed her arms in a defensive pose. It was a subconscious action, prompted by the series of events she had experienced of late.
“The lads at Interpol asked me about Ana—what I knew about her. I didn’t know why, but as it turned out they had decided to ‘vet’ her. I think that was prompted by the coincidence of Ben first meeting Ana on the same night as the first abduction attempt. They cover their bases.”
Paris sat forward in her chair and without a word wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips. Hugh knew that expression, and it meant she didn’t agree with their actions. A few moments passed before she spoke. “She definitely had proper identification showing that she’s a journalist. The assignment to interview Ben could easily be verified by the magazine that hired her.”
“Do we know the name of that magazine?”
“No, I don’t. I’m not sure about Ben. I doubt he cares much. He’s never been one to ‘put himself forward.’”
“She’s a charming girl, and the last thing I’d want is to find out is that she’s somehow involved. It’s easy to see how taken with her Ben has become.”
“I suspect he’s moved beyond taken.” Paris stood and began to pace around her office, obviously turning over in her head every detail she could remember about Ana’s demeanor and the conversations they had. She realized there were few, and she hadn’t paid close attention— but why would she? Finally she stopped beside Hugh’s chair and asked, “What, if anything, did they find out?”
“Remember. What I tell you may be completely unrelated to current events. It would be a colossal blunder to judge her by her family.” Paris cocked her head in a way that questioned his statement, and he continued to relate what he had been told by phone that morning. “What Interpol can find out in a short time has always amazed me. I don’t think Scotland Yard would have been much help in this undertaking.”
“Stop dawdling about! Let’s hear it.” Paris was becoming impatient. She felt herself incapable of absorbing any more bad news. “Surely that sweet girl is being mistreated by the very fact that unknown to her, she’s being investigated.”
“I can’t give you the conversation verbatim, but here’s what I jotted down.” He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket, along with his glasses, and began to read. “Her father’s name is Ion Cormac Doherty—both parents Irish. He’s married to Isabella Cristina, maiden name DeFalla. She was born in Málaga, Andalusia, Spain. They’re still compiling ‘intel’ on the rest of the family in Spain. His parents were Fiona Claire Branagan and Seamus Patrick Doherty. Both came from Galway to the states and operated a small neighborhood market in Belle Harbor, Queens. That’s in New York.”
“What can these particulars possibly have to do with Ben and Olivia—and most of all, Ana?”
“Well, it seems Ana’s father is a supposedly reformed criminal. He was sent down for the first five years of Ana’s life. She was born while he was inside.
“Ana’s father? Was it a violent crime?”
“No, a robbery involving antiquities. You can see why Interpol could question her motives. The depth of his involvement is still unknown. But there was enough evidence to convict him by association.”
“Oh my! I wonder how Ana’s mother managed to care for a child during that time.”
“She was hired to manage a curio shop—a lucky break, considering. I think they said Cambridge, Massachusetts. The owner was often absent, and being a family man, he allowed Isabella to bring Ana to work with her. When Ion was released they ran the shop together and were eventually able to buy it.”
“Digging into Ana’s life seems to have served no purpose other than to be intrusive.”
“Their logic was that if anyone in her family had been involved in the stealing of artifacts, there is no reason why a treasure like the gold wouldn’t tempt them to get involved. It’s true that Ana’s profession is journalism, but that doesn’t mean that she’s incapable of pursuing other more lucrative work—like playing the part of a facilitator.”
“I maintain that it’s utter nonsense.”
“I could have kept this from you, so don’t kill the messenger. It wasn’t my decision. Once we involved Interpol it was basically their show. Olivia’s safety is worth any price.”
“I’m so glad you’re out of that whole thing—or were out. My God! All those years of worrying about you when you went out with them on this or that hunt for insured valuables and the crooks that stole them. When you have a husband who carries a gun, you never relax.”
Hugh knew it was time to cut it short. He got up from his chair and put his arms around his wife. “Well, my dear, all that worry seems to have had absolutely no effect on your beauty.”
Paris tried to stifle a smile, but Hugh knew her every expression and that for the moment he had appeased her. He felt it was safe to return to the subject at hand and said, “When will the necessary forms be completed and faxed to the airline so they will release the exhibit to the ‘armored cars’ we’re providing?”
She knew he was referring to the need for Interpol and Scotland Yard to have the information immediately. Flawless coordination between the two would be necessary in order to intercept the transfer of the exhibit and arrest those involved. Hugh had been told that as a fail-safe measure crates identical to those used by the Spanish museum would be used. They would have approximately the same weight and would be given over to the criminals for loading onto the truck. One of the crates would contain enough gold to support a solid robbery indictment, not just attempted robbery. An additional indictment for conspiracy could be possible.
“Now that I know what name will be on the trucks, I just have to fill it in on the forms. It would be best to email a copy to the appropriate person now and tell them that I will be faxing a copy as well. I need to fax a copy to either Interpol or the Yard, right?”
“I’d send it to both. I have their fax numbers in my phone.” He took it out of his pocket and began scrolling for the information then reading out the numbers while Paris jotted them down.
She stopped writing and looked up at Hugh. “Once we send this information it’s out of our hands. Olivia and Valerie’s safety will be in these men’s hands. If the whole group isn’t involved in the actual robbery, whoever is waiting—the leader maybe— will know something’s wrong when he can’t reach them. Who knows what he’ll do then. Worst-case scenario he’ll make a call to wherever they’re being kept in Spain. I can’t bear to think of what could happen then.”
“I know what you’re thinking because I’ve been worried about that too,” Hugh said. They looked at each other and Paris’ eyes misted over. “Let’s not borrow trouble. Remember, Ben and Ana are in Pamplona by now. Our son is resourceful, and regardless of the information on Ana, I think she’s on Ben’s side. In my profession you learn to read people pretty well. I’ve been exposed to plenty of tricky people. They have certain mannerisms in common.”
“With me it’s a gut feeling. I hope it can be trusted.”
Hugh stood up and leaned over, putting his hands on her desk and looking squarely into her eyes. “Send the emails then send the faxes. Let�
��s get this show on the road.”
Within ten minutes it was done. Paris had done her part as instructed by the kidnapper and also as required by law enforcement. Hugh was sure he would hear from his contacts within an hour. They would confirm that everything was in place. Within thirty-six hours it would be over. Then there was the matter of rescuing their daughter and Ben’s ex-wife.
Neither would be content to sit back and wait for news. Hugh pulled Paris up from her chair and held her firmly by the shoulders. She was somewhat startled but said nothing. Their eyes met and he said, “We’re going to Spain.” Paris recognized that resolute expression. She had seen it many times.
* * *
In spite of the stressful situation in which Ben and Ana found themselves, the landscape between San Sebastian and Pamplona served to provide at least a bit of distraction. The motorway eased through the northern boundary of the Pyrenees, where craggy peaks began to soften into rolling green hills and more pastureland. The sun was no longer overhead and had begun its descent into the western sky, yet the heat of the day remained constant. Without air conditioning the only thing to do was to keep the windows down and allow the warm wind to circulate inside the car. Ben had turned on the radio to help pass the time, but after a while Ana suggested they turn it off, that the lively music was making her more nervous.
“Sure, turn it off, but I can’t talk about what we could be dealing with. It would distract me too much from my driving.”
“Let’s not do that. We need to arrive in one piece. I don’t want to talk about it either. It’s on our minds, regardless.” Ben glanced aside and could see that Ana was pondering something. She broke into a smile and said, “You’re a writer. Tell me a story. Can you do that and drive too?” She waited for him to answer, but he just smiled and shook his head no. “Well then, tell me more about your family—off the record. Everything is off the record for now. Amazing how a little interview can escalate into a life-changing situation.
“You’ve got that right. I suppose we’ll have to start over with all that, once this whole situation is resolved—if it’s still relevant. The whole idea has lost its shine for me. Of course I was never really keen.” He paused then added, “But I do like one life-changing thing that happened.”
He quickly glanced at Ana, grinned and winked. She knew what he was referring to and felt a slight flush of embarrassment. Then she quickly returned to the subject of the interview. “It would sure take a different turn at this point. I can see it becoming more of a news story than an interview. Whatever it wants to be, it’s the least of our concerns.” Ana tossed her hair and continued in a self-mocking tone. “And who knows if I’ll even have a job after this. I’m not sure I even care.”
“Whoa … I’ve told you enough times. I don’t want to be responsible for losing you a job.”
“You didn’t hold a gun to my head!” Ben glanced toward her and furrowed his brow. She quickly added, “Sorry. Bad analogy, considering.” Fearing that she might put her foot in her mouth again, Ana changed the subject. “For now let’s just try to pass the time as pleasantly as possible.” She looked down at the map on her phone and added, “We have about another half hour travel time to Pamplona.”
Ana’s anxiety had not benefited from the absence of noise, so she fidgeted with the radio, trying without success to locate an English station. Finally Ben told her to either pick a station or turn it off. She apologized and did the latter. The traffic had become congested and the city was in full view. He suggested she get out her phone and enter the hotel address into Google maps. Ana navigated their route into and through the city with only a couple of minor errors. It had taken another half hour before they pulled up in front of the hotel on the Plaza del Castillo. Two young men in hotel uniforms quickly approached the car, opening the doors on each side and asking in accented English how they could be of service. Ben asked one to park and lock the car, while Ana asked the other to remove the luggage and take it to the registration desk.
The lobby and main salon were tastefully designed, with an eclectic assortment of art on the walls, comfortably appointed seating areas and an upright piano in one corner. When Ben gave his name to the reception clerk it was obvious by the woman’s demeanor and solicitous tone that she had been privy to the special nature of the arrangements. Using his connection with Interpol, Hugh had been able to book two adjoining rooms during the city’s busiest two weeks of the year. Ana wondered if someone had been displaced as a result. Formalities concluded, they followed the bellman to their respective rooms.
Ana stood just inside and studied her new surroundings. Sunlight flooded the room, softened by sheer drapes on the windows along the opposite wall. The large bed was covered with comforter and shams of creamy white Matelassé. In one corner a small sofa and two chairs were arranged around a glass table that held a color explosion of fresh flowers. She had been in the room less than two minutes when Ben knocked on the common door. She unlocked it and told him to come through.
He looked around the room and said, “I think your room’s bigger than mine… but I think my bed is bigger than yours. I’ll have to try them both out.” He then gave her one of those smiles that she could feel wash through her like a wave.
Ana was a bit confused by his remark, no doubt an effort to lighten the mood, but decided to ignore it. There were other priorities, confirmed by his expression, which had quickly turned serious. The fact that he had undertaken to rescue his sister was once again weighing on him. A moment’s suggestive teasing—if that’s what it was— couldn’t allay his concerns. They were extremely tired from the pressure and hurried nature of the trip. She reasoned that since the afternoon was half gone, there was no point in doing anything but having a meal and getting some rest. When she presented the idea to Ben he resisted, feeling that there wasn’t a moment to lose.
“Ben, your father will contact you when the time is set for the fake delivery and interception by the police. Until then these criminals will still think they’re in charge. If Olivia and Valerie are all right at this moment, don’t you think they’ll be all right at least until morning?”
“I don’t trust any assumptions we might make. There are so many things that can go wrong with the timing of this thing.” He walked to the window, pulled aside the curtain, and stared out at the plaza below. “Who knows how terrible the conditions are for them.” He paused for a moment then turned back to face her. “I think I should call my father—tell him that we’ve arrived and are at the hotel.”
“That’s a good idea. Maybe he can update you on the timing—whether the plan is in place.” Ben went to his room and retrieved his phone. While he was dialing, Ana said, “Please give your parents my best. Tell them I’m going to keep a close eye on you. I know your mother is worried about you being here.”
Hugh answered immediately and the two spoke for several minutes, although Hugh did most of the talking. Ben promised to check in often and ended the call by sending Ana’s reassurances to his mother. He told Ana that everything seemed to be in place and that the time of the robbery attempt would coincide with the manifest sent to the airlines and the arrival of the plane. Ben seemed less agitated after speaking with his father. He flopped down on Ana’s bed and blew out a long breath.
Ana approached the bed and looked down at him. “So what did you learn? You seem relieved—or more likely, exhausted.”
“I am tired, but there’s definitely no feeling of relief. I’m just glad to know the arrangements are made.” He sat up, swung around to a sitting position and began to rub his tired eyes. In a disgusted tone he added, “What a bunch of ‘tossers’… those crooks. Did they really think my Mum would sit back and do nothing?”
“I’d be worried they’d get wind of the fact that she’s involved your Dad and the law.”
“They’ve been extremely careful, and it’s helped that whoever these men are, they seem to be pretty stupid.”
“Well then, what are you going to do? Most of t
he afternoon is gone. What could you possibly do before morning?”
She waited for a response, but Ben hesitated before he answered, “Something. Anything. I can’t just lie here and watch Spanish television.” His tone was rather harsh, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. He leaned backward, propping himself on his elbows, fixing his eyes on Ana. “I’ll tell you what I can do before morning. I’m going to the nearest police station—now!”
Ana heaved an exaggerated sigh and began to shake her head. “I understand what you feel you have to do, but I don’t think you’ll get the response you want from some desk sergeant. What do we know about how law enforcement works in Pamplona?” She realized immediately that it was a question with no answer.
Ben got up from the bed and hurried toward the door that adjoined their rooms. He turned and said, “One way to find out.”
In a moment he returned with wallet and sunglasses in hand. Ana knew she couldn’t change his mind, so she quickly looked around for her bag, hoping more than assuming he would want her to come along.
Ben gently took hold of her arm and shook his head no. “A police station is no place for you. I can’t predict how they’ll react to my request—or should I say demand— for help. A woman tagging along could damage my credibility. I don’t think the average Spanish male is quite as forward thinking about the fairer sex as the English or Americans.”
“First of all, don’t demand. You’ve heard the ‘trap more flies with honey’ saying, haven’t you?”
Ben smirked, but he knew she was right. A foreigner doesn’t stomp into a police station and make demands. He vowed to control his temper. Yet he needed a way to keep Ana from taking part. The fact was that he had a valid reason for her to stay at the hotel: his parents. If neither of them could be reached by phone, his mother would be especially undone. Ben explained that his father would likely be calling to check on them, and since he had all but ordered his son to do nothing yet, someone had to answer and reassure him.
Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery Page 24
