The Chase

  Kate arrived at LAX at noon and was met outside the terminal by Carl Jessup, who was parked in the red zone. She got into the front seat of his Chevy Impala and he drove off, heading east out of the airport terminal loop.

  “Welcome home,” Jessup said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great,” she said.

  “Officially, you’re suspended without pay for thirty days and you will be getting a written reprimand from the disciplinary board,” Jessup said. “You’re lucky your hunch was right about Fox being on that plane or you’d have been dropkicked right out of the Bureau.” Jessup eased onto the ramp that curled onto Sepulveda Boulevard north. “Unofficially, holy crap, Kate. I don’t know which is more amazing, pulling a heist in midair or getting caught by Shanghai police and talking your way out of it. You’re becoming as good as Nicolas Fox, and that’s scary.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  She was well aware that some of Nick’s con artist skills were rubbing off on her. She wondered what, if anything, he was learning from her.

  “We knew you two would make a great team,” Jessup said, “but is it over? Is Nick really dead?”

  She shook her head. “The dead man was a BlackRhino operative sent by Carter to kill Nick. The Shanghai police will know Nick is alive once the DNA results come back on what’s left of the body.”

  “I guess we underestimated how quickly Carter would discover the theft and make the connection to the Smithsonian handing over the rooster to the Chinese.”

  “Carter didn’t rise to White House chief of staff by being stupid,” Kate said.

  “Well, it’s over now, the trail has gone cold. Nick can add Carter Grove and BlackRhino to the long list of enemies, bounty hunters, insurance investigators, and law enforcement agencies who are searching the globe for him,” Jessup said. “Speaking of which, where the hell is he?”

  “I don’t know.” It was a lie, of course, but she’d promised Nick she’d protect Duff MacTaggert’s identity and his role in the original theft of the rooster.

  “Will he come back?”

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll hunt him down like a dog.”

  “Enjoy your thirty-day suspension first,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

  She gestured to the In-N-Out Burger that was coming up on Sepulveda. “Have I also earned a three-by-three with fries and a chocolate shake?”

  “Definitely,” Jessup said, steering the car into the parking lot.

  It was late afternoon in Palm Beach, Florida, when BlackRhino operative Rocco Randisi walked into Carter Grove’s office. Carter was at his desk, going through the covert agreement for BlackRhino to purchase an aerial drone armed with Hellfire missiles. Attack drones were the new status symbol. Pretty soon, Tom Cruise, David Beckham, and Honey Boo Boo would each have one.

  “What have you heard from Shanghai?” Carter asked.

  “Fu has the rooster. Alexis Poulet was found dead on the plane. And Nicolas Fox escaped from the cargo hold by driving off in a vintage Dodge Charger.”

  Carter couldn’t believe that Fox, a mere grifter and thief, had managed to kill Alexis. She was a professional assassin. This was the last time he’d hire a castoff from France’s Direction Centrale du Renseignement Intérieur. There was a reason nobody had ever heard of the French intelligence agency. They sucked. Carter buzzed Veronica Dell on the intercom. “Make me a list of everyone on our payroll who used to work for the DCRI.”

  Her reply came over the speaker in her wonderful British accent. “We have only one.”

  “Good to know.” Carter tipped his head toward Randisi. “Continue. What happened next? Fox couldn’t have gone far in a car that flashy.”

  “You’re right. He abandoned the car and fled on foot. But here’s where things get really strange. When the Shanghai cops recovered the car, they found a fake rooster and an FBI agent in the trunk.”

  That was distressing news. The last thing Carter wanted was the FBI investigating BlackRhino’s interest in Nick Fox. “Was the agent dead?”

  “No such luck. She was beaten up pretty bad, though.”

  “What was the agent doing on the plane?”

  “Her name is Kate O’Hare, and she’s the one who arrested Fox a few months back. He escaped from custody, and she’s been chasing him ever since. She told the police she discovered Fox was after the rooster and tried to catch him stealing it in D.C., but his accomplice got the jump on her, beat her up, and threw her in the trunk.”

  “Who was his accomplice?”

  “It’s not clear, but Alexis is looking like a possible. She told Fu she worked for the Smithsonian, so maybe we’re still okay as long as her cover holds.”

  If her cover didn’t hold, Carter knew that the Shanghai police would believe that BlackRhino tipped them off about Fox because BlackRhino was trying to retrieve a rogue agent. It would be enormously damaging to BlackRhino’s reputation if word got out that one of its operatives had gone bad.

  “I assume this information came from our man in Shanghai,” Carter said.

  “No, we got it from other sources. Our Shanghai operative hasn’t reported in yet. He was supposed to have a chat with Fox if Fox showed up at the Park Hyatt.”

  “And?”

  “It appears Fox checked in under an alias and that a short time later someone took a ninety-three-floor swan dive from Fox’s hotel room. The police are running a DNA check to identify the corpse. I gotta say, I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  So Fox might be on the loose, Carter thought, and this time they had no leads on where he might be. But Kate O’Hare might. She knew Fox well enough to anticipate that he’d be on that plane. She could be an asset.

  “Where’s O’Hare now?” Carter asked Randisi.

  “The Chinese threw her out of the country. She’s probably back in L.A. by now.”

  Carter buzzed Veronica again. “Get me whatever you can on an FBI agent named Kate O’Hare.”

  Carter turned his attention back to Randisi. “You need to intensify the search. Keep looking for anyone ever associated with Fox. Squeeze them for every detail they know about him. Nothing is too small or insignificant.”

  “How hard do we squeeze?”

  “As hard as it takes,” Carter said.

  Veronica walked into the office holding her open MacBook against her chest. “I used our digital backdoor into the FBI’s personnel database and got a picture of Special Agent Kate O’Hare.” She turned her laptop around so both men could see the screen. “Look familiar?”

  It was a picture of Lucy Carmichael, the fake producer.

  • • •

  Duff MacTaggert missed his bed. The mattress at the Bedford Hospital in Fort William felt like a stone slab, his pillows like sandbags. Suffering the pain and indignity of two broken arms and two broken legs wouldn’t be so bad if he just had his own bed to sleep in. But that glorious bed was ashes now, and his pub a pile of charred rubble.

  The story he’d told the doctors when his lads brought him in was that there’d been a gas leak, and that he was getting up to pee when the pub exploded, blowing him out of his second-floor window. Nobody questioned his story or went out to Kilmarny to investigate. But if anybody had, they wouldn’t have found any witnesses who’d contradict his account.

  For now he was a prisoner of his broken limbs, unable to leave his hospital bed or even feed himself. All he could do was press the buttons on the remote control in his right hand to raise the back of the bed, turn on the TV, give himself an IV jolt of morphine, or call a nurse.

  A doctor came into the room, his head down, intently reviewing a chart as he approached the bed on his morning rounds. There’d been so many doctors, nurses, and orderlies coming in and out of Duff’s room at all hours over the past few days that he no longer paid much attention to them. When he finally looked up into the doctor’s brown eyes he knew he was in serious trouble. It was Nicolas Fox in a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck. Before Duff could press the
call button, Nick snatched the remote from his hand.

  “You’re not going to be needing any help,” Nick said.

  “Not where I’m going, you mean. I’m sure the Devil has been expecting me for a while. You too, Nicky boy. So what’s it going to be? A pillow over my face or an air bubble injected into my IV?”

  “I’m not here to kill you. What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “An angry one.”

  Nick put the remote back in Duff’s hand and sat down on a stool beside the bed. “I saw what was left of your place in Kilmarny, and I see what Carter’s thugs have done to you. I don’t blame you for telling them what they wanted to know.”

  Duff sighed and shook his head sadly. “I held out as long as I could.”

  “Why did you hold out at all? You should have told them everything the first time they asked. You don’t like me, and it was my fault they came after you.”

  “The hell it was. It was my decision to sell Carter out to you. I got what I had coming to me. But I shouldn’t have given you up. I should have let the bastards break every bone in my body and taken your name to my grave.”

  “What for?”

  “Honor, Nicky boy. You don’t rat on your crew.”

  “I haven’t been part of your crew for years.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s the thief’s code. You never betray your crew. I’ve shamed myself and dishonored our profession. Go ahead, smother me. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, it’s not my style. At worst, I’d take you for everything you’ve got. But I’m not going to do that, either.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I had to know if you sold me out to Carter or if he forced you to talk.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Because if you’d been paid,” Nick said, “you wouldn’t hold a grudge against him. I need your help to take him down. I was in his house, Duff. He’s got pieces from some of the biggest art heists of the last thirty years. It’s incredible. His collection has got to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”

  “You’re crazy. He knows you’ve seen it, and he’ll be ready for you. You won’t be able to get near his collection. I guarantee that he’s moved it all somewhere else and gone way over the top on security, booby-trapping everything.”

  “He could bring in a ninja army to protect his collection and booby-trap it with a nuclear bomb and it wouldn’t save him,” Nick said. “Because I have an inside man.”

  “Who?”

  “Carter Grove.”

  Duff grinned. “I’m beginning to remember why I used to like you.”

  “I have the beginnings of a plan, but I need some information. Did you deal directly with Carter?”

  “No. He operates in complete secrecy. Not even his brokers know his identity. I found out by pure accident. Two days after the transaction was completed I was at the Watergate, doing some preliminary investigation for a jewelry heist, and I saw the rooster’s case walk past me. I knew it was the case because it had a dented corner and a scratch the length of one side. Carter Grove was carrying the case. I’d heard rumors that he was secretly collecting. I made the mistake of approaching him and offering my services.”

  “Did he take you up on the offer?”

  “No. He broke four fingers and told me he’d kill me if I didn’t forget I ever saw him.”

  “Suppose I want to sell him something. How do I get to him?”

  “I’d go to Julian Starke. My deal was finalized by Nelson Rhumann, but Rhumann is dead. Had a heart attack and went facedown in his morning oatmeal.”

  Jessup pulled up to Kate’s apartment building and parked at the curb, and they both gaped at the red-and-white tent that engulfed the place. The tent was inflated so that it looked like a giant bounce house from a kid’s birthday party. There were barricades on the sidewalk and signs warning people to stay away.

  “Looks like you have bugs,” Jessup said. “That’s the kind of tent they put up when they have to fumigate a building.”

  Kate got out, read the sign, and returned to the car. “It says no one is allowed into the building for five days.”

  “Good thing you’re on leave. You can take a vacation.”

  “I don’t want to take a vacation. Where am I supposed to live? All my clothes are in there.”

  Jessup looked at his watch. “I have to get back to the office. Where do you want me to drop you? Are you good here?”

  “No, I’m not good here. How about you drive me to the nearest supermarket so I can get a big cardboard box and live on the street?”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “It’s in the garage. It’s a company car. I don’t have my own car.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Can I have my company car?”

  “No. What about your sister?”

  Kate closed her eyes and slid down in her seat. She loved her sister, but living with her would be hell. Megan would have her fixed up with a new man every night. Accountants and produce managers and dentists. Kate gave an involuntary shudder.

  Two hours later Kate pulled into her sister’s drive court in a rental car.

  “They’re fumigating my building,” Kate said to Megan. “I was hoping I could stay with you for a couple days.”

  “Of course,” Megan said. “The girls will love it. You’re their favorite aunt.”

  “I’m their only aunt.”

  “Just throw your stuff in the guest room. If you have any guns, you have to give them to Dad. We don’t allow guns in the house.”

  “How about rocket launchers?”

  “Not them either.”

  The guest room was pretty, with peach walls and white curtains and bed linens. Kate had stayed there before, and it always made her feel girly. Her own apartment had a brown leather couch and a punching bag. The apartment’s previous resident had been a boxer, and she’d taken over his furniture.

  Kate had a couple hours before dinner, so she left the house and walked across the driveway to her father’s casita.

  “They ran a piece on the news about the rooster going back to China,” Jake said, opening the door to her. “It sounded like everything went as planned.”

  “More or less.”

  “You’re in time for dinner. I think Roger’s making smoked buffalo burgers. Ever since Megan gave him that smoker for his birthday, we’ve had smoked everything. Last night he smoked broccoli.”

  “Something to look forward to,” Kate said. “I moved into Megan’s guest room for a couple days. They’re fumigating my apartment building.”

  “Your nieces will love that. You’re their favorite aunt.”

  “So I’ve been told. And I can spend quality time with you, too. You can teach me how to make improvised explosives out of household cleaning supplies.”

  “I’d love to,” Jake said. “We can include the grandkids and make it a family affair. We’ll just have to wait until Megan and Roger aren’t around. They’re very uptight about making explosives in the house.”

  Three days later, Kate was lying on a chaise in the backyard in shorts and a bikini top, reading Star magazine, while Megan patrolled the lawn, looking for dog droppings to pick up with her poop bags.

  “What’s Roger got in the smoker today?” Kate asked.

  “Nothing. He’s off the smoker. His doctor said all that smoked meat was eating a hole in his intestines. He’s on the white diet now. He can only eat things that are white. So we’re having cream of wheat for dinner. And wear something nice. I invited this wonderful man I met over for dinner.”

  “No!”

  “He’s perfect for you. Okay, maybe he’s a little short, but you know what they say about short men.”

  “What do they say about short men?”

  “They try harder.”

  “Criminy, Megan.”

  Kate’s cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID: UNKNOWN CALLER.

  “Kate O’Hare.?
??

  “Hello, Agent O’Hare.” It was a woman with a British accent. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Mr. Grove would like to speak with you.”

  Now Kate knew the voice. It was Veronica Dell, Carter Grove’s assistant.

  “Mr. Grove is in a limo in the parking lot at the Commons. He’ll be expecting you in ten minutes. I urge you not to keep him waiting. He has a tight schedule.”

  Veronica hung up, and Kate stared at her phone, stunned.

  Megan looked over at her. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, fine, something came up at work.”

  “But you’ve been suspended.”

  “Another agent needs me to brief him on a case. I’m going to run out and meet him for coffee.” Kate went to the guest room, changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and called her father.

  “It’s Jake,” he answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “Eighth hole, Calabasas Country Club, and I’m two swings ahead of the proctologist I’m playing with. Why?”

  “Carter Grove is waiting for me in a limo at the Commons,” she said. “I could use some backup.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ve got a gun, a garrote, and a hand grenade in the nightstand beside my bed. Take them.”

  “I’m going unarmed.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “If he wanted to kidnap me or kill me, he wouldn’t announce himself ahead of time and meet me in a public place.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “So do I,” she said. “But in case I’m not, I’ve got you.”

  “You certainly do,” he said.

  The Commons was designed to resemble a quaint European village. The developers wanted to give the shopping center some class so that celebrity Calabasas residents like Justin Bieber and the Kardashians would have a pleasant experience buying groceries at Ralphs.

  Carter Grove’s limo was parked at the far end of the parking lot, away from the trophy wives loading groceries into their BMWs and Mercedes. Rocco Randisi leaned against the limo, eating a Menchie’s frozen yogurt. Kate parked her rented Taurus in front of the limo, got out, and acknowledged Randisi with a glance. She remembered him from the pool in Palm Beach.