The Heist

  “What’s the latest on the manhunt for Nick?”

  “Ryerson is chasing a lead from Interpol that Fox may have impersonated some Italian count to fly out of Europe and into St. Louis, where the trail goes cold. I told him that was ridiculous. Why would he come back here? And why St. Louis? What’s Fox plotting to do, steal the Arch?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Kate said, and disconnected.

  She set the alarm clock on the nightstand to ring in forty-five minutes, pulled the comforter off the bed, slipped her gun under one of the pillows, and went to sleep on top of the blankets. When the alarm woke her after what felt like three seconds, she smashed it with her fist until it was silent and cracked, and she went back to sleep.

  The next time Kate came awake it wasn’t because of the alarm. It was because of an uneasy feeling intruding on her sleep, dragging her into consciousness. She lay perfectly still, eyes closed, all other senses alert. She heard the soft rustle of clothing and knew she wasn’t alone. She stretched and slipped her hand under her pillow, found her Glock, and bolted upright, aiming at a shadow at the foot of the bed.

  “How sweet,” Nick said, gesturing to the Glock. “Just like old times.”

  He was in a chair facing the bed, eating a Toblerone. A bottle of white wine and two glasses were on the table beside him.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you. How did you get in here?”

  “To your knowledge, how many times have I visited the Louvre after it was closed?”

  “Three,” she said.

  “It’s seven, actually.” He unscrewed the top off the bottle of wine and filled two glasses. “With that in mind, do you really think your hotel room door was a challenge for me?”

  Smug bastard. She should have shot him. But it was a nonsmoking room, and they charged a $275 cleaning fee for cigarette smoke and ashes, so she figured that their price for scrubbing away blood and brain matter was probably astronomical.

  “You could have knocked,” she said.

  Nick held a glass of wine out to her. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She slid down to the end of the bed and took the glass from him. “How did you know I was sleeping?”

  “Anyone walking by your room would have known. You were snoring like a hippo giving birth.”

  “I don’t snore,” she said, and drank half the glass of wine. “You broke in to raid my minibar, like always, and didn’t expect to find me here.”

  “I’ll say that’s what happened if it will make you feel better.”

  “If that’s not it, then what are you doing here?”

  “I thought you’d like to know how we’re getting Derek Griffin.” His gaze dropped to her shirt. “Is that cocktail sauce?”

  Kate looked down and sighed. “Willie was at poolside and I snitched a shrimp off her platter.”

  Why me? she thought. Why doesn’t he ever have food stains on his shirt?

  “You’ve figured out the con already?” Kate asked Nick.

  “Yep. The honey trap. It works in any situation where a man is vulnerable to the charms of a beautiful woman. And it helps if he has an unfulfilled desire for sex.”

  Kate foraged in the minibar, came up with a Snickers, and bit off a chunk. “So basically any man on earth with a heartbeat in any situation at all.”

  “Pretty much,” he said. “You’re going to be a rich, bored, man-hungry heiress cruising the Flores Sea in a multimillion-dollar yacht with a two-person crew.”

  Kate’s mouth dropped open and some candy fell out. “No! No way. Not gonna happen. I am not going to be the honey in the trap.”

  Her short hair was a wreck, overgrown for a pixie cut, not long enough for anything else. She had perpetual food stains. She didn’t own an iron and had no interest in buying one. And it didn’t matter anyway because her clothes were all wash-and-wear and chosen for their ability to hide a gun. There were times when in all honesty she did feel a little man-hungry, but she had no confidence that, even on her best day, could she pull off the honey trap.

  “Willie can be the honey trap,” Kate said. “She’s good at it.”

  “She’s going to captain the yacht,” Nick said.

  “How is she going to do that?”

  “She’s had boating experience.”

  “Little pleasure craft. This is a freaking expensive boat.”

  “The boat is all computerized. She’ll pick it up in no time. We’re talking about a woman who once took a freight train for a joyride. And the real problem with her being the honey is her age. She’s too old. Griffin will be seeing her in daylight. Do you want to hear the rest of the con or not?”

  “Not! I’m not doing this.”

  “Of course you’ll do it. You’re a team player. We’ll lease a yacht out of Benoa Harbor in Bali. The yacht will run into engine trouble and end up stuck in the waters off Griffin’s island. We’ll hang out on the island while the yacht is being repaired. You’ll entice Griffin to the point of insanity while I nose around and see if I can figure out where the money is.”

  “He’s not going to have the half billion dollars in cash in his sock drawer or even in a safe. You won’t find it on the island,” she said. “At most, he might have five hundred million rupiah stashed in a hollow coconut somewhere.”

  Nick nodded. “The money is in a bank account. The key is to find out where that bank is, and Griffin’s password so we can access his account and empty it. Once we’ve done that, or at least have a line on the information, you lure him onto the boat, we overpower him, and we take him on a ride into international waters, where we leave him floating in a dinghy for the U.S. Navy to apprehend.”

  “It doesn’t seem very well thought out.”

  “Of course it’s not, it’s only the broad strokes. I’ll fill in the blanks as I go along.”

  Kate put her glass and the Snickers wrapper on the table. “I have a better idea. We use the yacht and a cruise as our cover. We anchor near Griffin’s island in darkness, then I go ashore, grab him, and bring him back to the boat.”

  “He’ll have protection.”

  “I’m pretty tough.”

  “We’re not.”

  “You and Willie will stay on the boat. I don’t need you.”

  “You might, and while I can handle myself, I’m much faster with my mouth than with my fists.”

  “No one is asking you to kick ass. That’s my department. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”

  “If what Bolton wanted was a military strike force, he wouldn’t have put the two of us together and funded this operation. He knows as well as I do that what this situation requires is finesse,” Nick said. “If Griffin comes to the boat willingly, and then you put a gun to his head, nobody gets hurt, and no alarms are raised.”

  “Okay, fine. Have it your way, but Willie needs to be the honey trap. Some men like mature women. And she’s got bigger boobs than I do.”

  “True, but that’s not the way it’s going down.”

  She did an eye roll that was so massive it almost gave her a headache. “I was in the U.S. Navy. In case you have forgotten, that’s the branch of our military that operates on the water, so I know a thing or two about operating boats and navigating the high seas. Besides, you said these yachts practically pilot themselves.”

  “They do if you already have a natural affinity for piloting vehicles. That’s not your super power. It’s Willie’s.”

  Kate flopped back onto the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to be a honey trap. I hate that stuff.”

  “All you have to do is be smart, sexy, and seductive and make Griffin want you enough to get on a boat with you for a little erotic cruise. How hard could that be?”

  “I’d rather punch him in his face.”

  “And you wonder why you’re single.”

  “I don’t wonder,” she said. “It’s a conscious choice. With the job I have, I don’t have time to commit to a steady relationship, but that doesn’t mean I’m a nun.?
??

  “You play around?”

  “Define ‘play around.’ ”

  Nick grinned at her. “If you have to define it, you don’t do it.”

  “I’ve been busy. Besides, what sort of person do you think I am? And if you think I’m going to sleep with Derek Griffin, you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to make Griffin believe that you will if he gets on the boat with you.”

  “It’s not that easy,” she said.

  “Sure it is. Just show some boob and thigh, maintain eye contact too long, lick your lips, invade his personal space, basically do all the things you usually do when you want to distract and manipulate a man.”

  “I don’t do those things!”

  Nick gave her the thousand-watt smile and rose from his seat. “I have total confidence in you. Meet me in the lobby at nine A.M. sharp. We need to go shopping.”

  “What are we shopping for?”

  “Sexy clothes that will make you irresistible to Derek Griffin.”

  “No problem,” she said. “Is there a Kohl’s or Walmart around here?”

  “We’re going to aim a little higher than that.”

  “Where are we shopping?”

  “Where a spoiled, rich heiress would,” Nick said.

  “Spoiled, rich heiresses aren’t on FBI expense accounts.”

  “Neither are you,” he said.

  El Paseo was the Rodeo Drive of Palm Desert. It was a wide, palm-lined street of swanky shops, galleries, restaurants, and lush flower beds improbably situated on a patch of bone-dry desert that General George Patton had used to prepare his troops for battle in the Sahara. But now, instead of tanks and jeeps rumbling across the parched earth, battalions of sun seekers in Mercedes-Benzes and Jaguars cruised for prime parking spots.

  The shopping experience on El Paseo was about the same as Rodeo Drive when it came to the stores with their ultraexpensive brands. The only difference here was the fleet of yellow seven-seat courtesy carts that went up and down the street giving free rides to retirees too frail or too burdened with shopping bags to manage the one-mile stretch of glitz on their own.

  Nick and Kate had chosen to forsake the ride and walk, and Kate was lagging behind.

  “Could you pick up the pace?” Nick said to Kate. “We just got lapped by someone dragging an oxygen tank.”

  “I hate shopping for clothes,” Kate said. “I liked when I was in the military and all I needed was camouflage gear.”

  “Shopping can be fun. Especially when it’s for a con. It’s the first step in creating a character. Isn’t there anything you enjoy buying? Lingerie? Shoes? Jewelry?”

  “Shoes are okay. I don’t have to take my clothes off to try them on.”

  “You don’t like to take your clothes off?”

  “It’s the lighting in the dressing rooms. It makes you look fat and anemic. And pulling clothes on and off wrecks my hair.”

  Nick put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair. “Like this?”

  Kate jumped away. “Stop it! I have enough hair problems without you making it worse.”

  “Maybe if you ran a brush through it once in a while.”

  “Maybe if you’d keep your hands off it!”

  Nick grinned and hugged her into him. “Are we a team, or what? Stick with me and I’ll get you to enjoy taking your clothes off.”

  “You’re flirting with me.”

  “Stating a fact,” Nick said.

  First stop was a boutique with a French name and staffed by extremely thin young women with slicked-back hair and lots of eye shadow. Nick picked out a Michael Kors silk racerback tank top from the first display table he saw and handed it to Kate.

  “You would be a knockout in this,” he said.

  She held the tank out in front of her for inspection. Simple, stylish, and practical. Perfect for a relaxing lunch, a brisk walk on the beach, or hand-to-hand combat.

  “I like it,” she said, “but it’s four hundred seventy-five dollars. I can get a tank top for twenty-five dollars at T.J. Maxx.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Yeah, one is reasonably priced and the other is insane.”

  Nick took three of the tank tops from the table and handed them to the salesgirl, who was lucky she didn’t tip over, since the combined weight of the garments was probably greater than her own. “We’ll take these.”

  “No, we won’t,” Kate said.

  “You need those clothes.”

  “Fine, but we’ll get them at T.J. Maxx.”

  Nick pulled her aside out of earshot of the salesgirl. “No, we won’t. You need designer clothes, shoes, and accessories to instantly sell your cover to anyone who lays eyes on you. If you stroll off the plane in Bali wearing three grand worth of clothes and dragging a Louis Vuitton bag behind you like a gunnysack in a country where the average monthly wage is less than fifty dollars, you will do that.”

  “This is so totally wrong,” Kate said.

  “Obviously you opted out of the honey trap class when you were in SEAL boot camp.”

  “It conflicted with the one on nose breaking and eye gouging.”

  Nick added a $900 red silk sarong dress and an $800 cashmere T-shirt and handed the salesgirl his credit card. “We’ll take all these.”

  From there they went to a store that featured clothes by Hervé Léger, a label Nick chose for Kate because their fashions would perfectly accentuate her toned body. And because the store served their customers Dom Pérignon champagne in Baccarat crystal flutes.

  Kate liked the champagne, but she was skeptical about the clothes.

  “Try this on,” Nick said, selecting a royal blue bandage dress.

  “I don’t think so,” Kate said. “I can’t see myself in this.”

  “Just try it.”

  Kate belted back some champagne and marched off to the dressing room. She shimmied into the sleeveless, skintight dress, with its plunging halterneck and a zipper that followed the contours of her back. She tugged at the bottom of the dress but it instantly rolled back up to midthigh. Jeez Louise, she thought, how was she ever going to sit in this? For that matter, how was she going to breathe? She looked down at her cleavage and wondered where it had all come from. She’d always thought she had okay but not spectacularly large breasts. The bandage dress had everything squished up and looking like there wasn’t enough bandage to go around, as if her breasts had grown in the last fifteen minutes.

  “I can’t wear this,” she said from inside the dressing room. “It’s too small.”

  “Let’s see,” Nick said. “Come on out.”

  “Get me a bigger size. A lot bigger.”

  Nick opened the door and looked in at Kate. “Whoa,” he said on a gush of air. His pupils dilated to the point where his brown eyes were almost totally black, and Kate decided the dress must look better than she’d first thought.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I think I’m in love,” Nick said. “But then my brain isn’t completely engaged right now. That’s not where the blood is flowing.”

  “Too much information,” Kate said. “It would have been enough to tell me I look okay.”

  “Honey, you look a lot better than okay.”

  “You don’t think it’s a little slutty?”

  “Not at these prices,” Nick said.

  By the time they reached the Louis Vuitton store and she paid more for a single Pégase suitcase than she’d spent on her first car, Kate was sweating and popping Rolaids like they were Life Savers. Their last stop was Neiman Marcus, where they picked up sunglasses and other accessories.

  “How many bikinis do you have?” Nick asked.

  “None.”

  He grinned. “You swim nude?”

  “I do my swimming in the ocean, in a wet suit,” she said. “So I don’t need a bikini.”

  “You’re going to need one in Bali,” he said.

  “I can’t spend any more money. I’m having an anxiety atta
ck. I can’t feel my fingertips.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Leave it to me.”

  “You don’t know my measurements.”

  “Trust me,” he said.

  “That’s a tough one.”

  They drove back to the Fantasy Springs Resort Casino and Nick walked Kate and her bags to her room.

  “I’m going to check us out,” he said. “I’ll see you and Willie at Ngurah Rai airport in Denpasar, Bali, in three days. Your passport, prepared by the finest forger in the United States, will be waiting for you at the front desk in the morning, along with one for Willie. Be sure to travel first-class. You need to look the part from the moment you step on the plane. And I need you to wire two hundred thousand dollars to my account at DBS Bank in Singapore.”

  “Why Singapore?”

  “That’s where I’m heading. I’m on a flight out of LAX this evening so I can lay the groundwork for the con in advance of your arrival. I’ve written down the bank account information and the phone number where you can reach me once you’ve made your travel arrangements.”

  He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and was about to hand it to her when she slammed him back hard against the wall, pinning him there with the palm of her hand flat against his chest.

  “You expect me to give you two hundred grand and let you jet off alone to Southeast Asia?” Kate asked him, more accusation than question. “You aren’t thinking about going after Griffin and the half a billion dollars yourself, are you?”

  “Never crossed my mind.”

  They were so close that their lips were practically touching, and she could feel his heart beating under her hand. She’d sort of hoped his heart would be racing, but his heart was steady. Her heart was the only one racing. Dammit.

  She saw his eyes darken just as they had in the dressing room. He leaned in to her ever so slightly, and a hot rush of panic flashed through her. The panic was followed by something she feared was desire. Holy Toledo, she thought, he’s going to kiss me.

  “See you in Denpasar,” Nick said, his lips lightly brushing hers when he spoke.

  “Mmm,” Kate murmured, ready for the kiss. “Denpasar.”

  Nick stepped away, smiled at her, and messed up her hair. “Wear something sexy,” he said, and then he turned on his heel and sauntered off down the hall.