“You carrying?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Wearing a wire?”
“Nope.”
“What if I insist on patting you down?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure BlackRhino has a pretty good health plan.”
“I bet you’re not half as tough as you think you are.”
“Some dumb blonde recently made the same bet. She lost.”
He regarded her for a long moment, then walked to the back of the car, opened the door, and beckoned her in with a nod.
She got in and took the seat across from Carter Grove, who was also eating a frozen yogurt.
“You want a yogurt? I can have Rocco run over and get you one.”
“No, thanks,” Kate said.
“Okay, then let’s get right to it, shall we?” He nodded at Randisi, who closed the door, leaving Carter and Kate alone. “I know that you and Nicolas Fox are working together. But I’m going to let you off the hook. You’re just a loyal government employee recruited for a covert operation run out of the FBI, or the CIA, or maybe the NSA. I really don’t care. God knows I ran plenty of off-the-books operations like that myself when I was in the White House.”
“So what am I doing here?”
He picked at his yogurt with his little spoon, digging out the cookie dough chunks and eating them. “I want you to bring me Nicolas Fox.”
“Why?”
“He’s probably the best con man and thief in the world. I want to know the secrets behind every crime he’s ever committed. I want his complete list of contacts and all of his resources. And then I am going to kill him.”
“What if he won’t talk?”
“He will. I’ve got the top interrogators in the business working for me. Every single one of them has been convicted in absentia in The Hague for crimes against humanity.”
“That’s a real laurel for any résumé,” Kate said. “Look, the rooster wasn’t yours to begin with. Nobody profited from this. You’re giving me a pass, why not let Fox walk?”
“Because he made a fool out of me and he’s probably the one person capable of stealing everything else that I have.”
“He wasn’t alone. I was there.”
“But you don’t worry me,” Carter said. “You can’t do what he does. That’s why you and your masters needed him to begin with.”
“Forget it. I’m not going to get Fox for you. You’ll just have to man up and accept the loss. You can’t win them all, Carter.”
Carter finished his yogurt, dropped the spoon into the empty cup, and set it on the seat beside him. “BlackRhino is often hired to assassinate people and make it look like natural causes or an accident. We’re very good at it. I could arrange for your father to get hit by a runaway UPS truck. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s brakes have failed on that steep hill your sister and her children live on. It could happen to one of them too.”
Kate leaned forward and spoke softly. “I could kill you with that little yogurt spoon and end this right now.”
“I’m sure you could,” Carter said. “But you won’t. You have a conscience, ethics, and morals. You’d be a total failure in politics. Me? I pulled the strings in the Oval Office for eight years. I won’t hesitate to go after your family. You have two weeks to deliver Fox to me.”
Kate got out of the limo and immediately spotted her father sitting at a table in front of the Corner Bakery Cafe. He was hard to miss. He was facing her wearing sunglasses, a Calabasas Country Club cap, a bright blue Greg Norman polo shirt, blazing white slacks, and Callaway reptile golf shoes. His right hand was inside a Nike gym bag on his lap.
She walked over and sat down in a chair beside him. Randisi got into the limo and drove away, waving to them both as he passed.
“You can take your hand out of the bag now,” she said.
Jake slid his hand out and zipped up the bag. “How’d it go?”
“He’s on to us.”
“That much I figured out.”
She gestured to the bag. “What have you got in there?”
“Nothing much. Some golfballs, a handful of tees, a Glock, extra ammo, two hand grenades, a tear gas canister, a knife, Tums, clean socks, flares, and some Ensure chocolate shakes.”
“You took all of that with you to play golf?”
“When I first moved here, I saw a report on the news that urged everybody to keep an earthquake kit in each of their vehicles. This is my earthquake kit. You never know when the Big One might hit.”
“I didn’t know hand grenades were recommended for earthquake kits.”
“Carter wants you to give him Nick, doesn’t he?” Jake asked.
She nodded.
“Did Carter threaten our family?”
“Don’t worry, it won’t come to that.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Jake said. “Because I’m going to solve this problem for you.”
She shook her head and spoke to him in a firm but low voice so no one could overhear them. “Forget it. You’re not killing Carter.”
“I don’t mind. I only have a few years left anyway. There isn’t much difference between prison and a retirement home. At least in prison I’d be around people with similar interests. I have very little in common with proctologists.”
“We’ll find another way to deal with Carter.”
“The easy way would be to give him Nick Fox.”
Kate’s phone vibrated. She took it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Nick.
Meet me at 7 P.M. Hampton Inn. Room 216. Camarillo.
Nick’s timing, as usual, was uncanny. It was as if he knew they were talking about him. She glanced around, half expecting to see him watching them from another table.
Her gaze returned to Jake. “Do you have any gizmos that we can use to scan my car for bugs and tracking devices?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “I sweep my casita twice a day.”
“Who do you think might be listening to you?”
“Nobody in particular. Old habits are hard to break.”
“Is that why you have hand grenades and a garrote in your nightstand?”
“They’re sleep aids.”
Camarillo is a farming community northwest of Los Angeles with vast fields of artichokes, strawberries, and tract houses, but the town’s most lucrative crop by far was the cut-rate clothing sold at the 650,000-square-foot outlet center alongside the freeway.
The Hampton Inn was one of half a dozen budget hotels located near the Camarillo Premium Outlets. The hotels served the busloads of tourists who couldn’t possibly get all their shopping done in a single day.
Kate knocked on the door to room 216 and the door to room 215 opened behind her.
“Over here,” Nick said, beckoning her in.
Giving out the wrong room number to people was a simple, age-old security measure, but it still worked. She turned and went into his room. He closed the door behind her and bolted it.
Nick wore a new Ralph Lauren polo shirt, new Levi’s jeans, and new Nike running shoes. He looked like every other outlet shopper staying in the hotel.
Bags of clothes from several of the outlet stores were spread out on top of one of the double beds. The bags were set dressing to impress the maids. There were maps, blueprints, and photos of moving-company trucks scattered on the table near the window, which offered a breathtaking view of a McDonald’s and a Carl’s Jr. across the street.
Kate gestured to the papers on the table. “You’re on the run, and I’m suspended, and you’re planning something even though we don’t have an assignment. That can’t be good. What are you up to?”
“I saw Duff MacTaggert in the hospital. Carter’s thugs blew up Duff’s pub and broke his arms and legs to get my name out of him. I’m going to make Carter pay for that.”
“You can’t,” Kate said. “Our covers are blown. Carter came to see me today in Calabasas. He knows who I really am and that we’re secretly working together for the go
vernment.”
“Of course he does. One more reason why we have to take him down now.”
“We can’t. Didn’t you hear what I just said? He knows who we are. He’ll see us coming.”
“We aren’t going to be the ones who take him down. Carter is going to do it for us. But to make that happen, there is one little thing we have to do first.”
She sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“We have to pull off the most daring and lucrative museum heist in Canadian history. And it has to be done in Montreal on July first in broad daylight.”
“That’s only a week away. Why does it have to be that specific day?”
“July first is the Fête du Déménagement, the day when people in Quebec move to new homes. It’s a tradition that goes back to the eighteenth century. A quarter million people in Montreal move on that day every year, clogging the streets with boxes, furniture, appliances, and trucks. It’s also Canada Day, so you can throw a few parades into the mix, too. Those are the perfect conditions for committing the perfect crime.”
“But a week leaves you no time for planning.”
“I don’t need any. I’ve been thinking about this heist for years. I just needed an excuse to do it. Carter is it.”
“You have my attention,” she said.
“We’re going to steal some Rembrandt masterpieces from the Musée de Florentiny in a robbery so audacious that it will capture the world’s attention,” Nick said. “And especially Carter Grove’s. We’ll offer to sell the paintings through Julian Starke, the dealer du jour for stolen art.”
“It’s clever, I’ll give you that,” Kate said. “But Bolton will never authorize it.”
“Don’t tell him. You’ve been suspended, remember? Think of this as a vacation abroad with some friends.”
“What friends did you have in mind?”
“We’re going to need Joe, Boyd, and Willie.”
Kate shook her head. “We got them to believe we’re two unconventional PIs with big expense accounts who will go to extremes to nail bad guys and undo wrongs. But now we’re asking them to help us steal Rembrandts from a museum in Montreal. I don’t see a way to spin this that doesn’t make us look like crooks.”
“We’re only borrowing the paintings. The museum will eventually get them back.”
“What makes you think they’ll believe that?”
“What makes you think they’ll care? Willie is a crook. As long as we give her something to drive, fly, or pilot she’ll be happy. Boyd is an actor, all that matters to him is the part that he’s playing. And Joe hates Carter even more than we do and will appreciate the lengths we’re willing to go to nail him.”
“Why can’t we just throw a grenade into Carter’s house, dress up like firefighters, and discover his stolen art when we rush in with the real firemen to put out the flames? That will expose his crimes, ruin him, and bring down BlackRhino.”
Nick smiled. “I like the way you think, but I’m sure his collection isn’t in Palm Beach anymore. He’s too smart to leave it where it was after we broke in. He has to realize that not only do we know about the collection, but someone high up in the FBI has to know as well. Leaving it in that house would be like sitting on a ticking timebomb.”
“So you’re saying that robbing a museum in broad daylight a week from now is the only way we can deal with Carter.”
“The alternative is to give me to Carter.” She stared at him. “How did you know that’s what he wants me to do?”
“It’s politics. He wants someone’s scalp for stealing his rooster. You’re an FBI agent. Taking you out could bring the United States government down on him. I’m an international fugitive. Nobody will come after him if I disappear. I’m expendable.”
“Not to me,” Kate said. “I’ll never let that happen.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll make a deal with you. If this plan doesn’t work, I’ll walk into BlackRhino headquarters and give myself up.”
“Why would you do a stupid, suicidal thing like that?”
“I won’t let your family get hurt for something I’ve done.”
“We’ve done. I was as much a part of it as you were. I’ve got the scars to prove it.”
“Yeah, but that’s because I’ve been a terrible influence on you.”
Kate gave up a sigh. This was true.
When Joe Morey returned from Palm Beach, he immediately quit his job at Best Buy, bought a new Camaro, and moved into a condo complex in Marina del Rey.
The complex was packed with flight attendants, who liked it because they were close to the beach and LAX. It was also packed with divorced middle-aged men, who liked it because they were close to the flight attendants. On move-in day, Joe was horrified to find that the parking garage was filled with Camaros, and that there were more potbellied men around the pool than hot young women.
That horror evolved into depression on his second day there. He sat on a chaise beside the pool, in a T-shirt and board shorts, watching those newly single men, their guts hanging over their Speedos like muffin tops, ogle the women in bikinis. Did those guys really think they had a shot at the women? Joe knew his luck wouldn’t be any better. Sure, he had youth on his side, all his hair, and a flat stomach, but most of those men probably had good jobs and things happening in their lives that might make them attractive enough for a woman to overlook their man boobs.
What did he have going for him? Zilch. Even his financial independence was an illusion. The money from the Carter Grove caper wouldn’t last long, especially in Los Angeles, so he knew he’d have to do something to make more money and occupy his mind. But he was unemployable in corporate America after what had happened at Gant Security. So what kind of job was he going to get? Two years from today he could be back in a Geek Squad uniform, teaching some old lady how to tweet.
And that’s when an angel in the form of Kate O’Hare appeared in front of him in sunglasses, a tank top, and jeans. He blinked hard to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“Hello, Joe,” she said. “Have you got something in your eye?”
“No, no, it’s the glare. Please sit down.” He gestured to the chaise next to his and propped up the backrest for her so she could sit straight. “I didn’t expect to see you again. I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just that I thought it was only a one-time thing.”
Joe realized it sounded like he was talking about a one-night stand rather than the robbery they’d committed together. Then again, the two situations did have some things in common. They were both illicit, exciting, and maybe a little shameful.
“So did I,” she said. “The thing is, it bothers us that we got the rooster back but Carter didn’t really get punished for what he did.”
“Guys like him never do,” Joe said.
“We think there might be a way to get him after all.” Kate leaned toward him, close enough to whisper in his ear. “But we’d have to rob a museum in Montreal to do it.”
Joe’s heartbeat jacked up as if he’d been shocked with defibrillator paddles. His depression vanished too. The idea of nailing Carter, and experiencing the thrill of another caper, was the antidote to all of his worries, at least temporarily.
“I’m in,” he said.
She whispered in his ear again, and that was almost as exciting as the words she was speaking. “You do realize we’re talking about committing a major felony in a foreign country, right?”
Yes, he did, and it was great. Larger than life. Well, certainly larger than his life. Just being asked to participate meant that he wasn’t pathetic Joe Morey, ex–Geek Squad guy and prematurely middle-aged man anymore. He was slick Joe Morey, an international man of action possessing special skills. All of a sudden he was certain that he could easily pick up any of the women by the pool and give them the best night of their lives.
“Whatever it takes,” he said. “That bastard has to go down.”
“We’ll pay you another hundred and fifty thousand dollars,
but I want you to think about the risk involved. You could end up in a Canadian prison if this goes wrong.”
How bad could a Canadian prison be? It was in Canada. Canadians were civilized. It had to be better than going back to the Geek Squad. And if he pulled this heist off, he’d have twice as much money socked away, buying him another two years to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.
“I understand that,” Joe said. “But there’s nothing I want more than to see Carter Grove behind bars.”
That was at least partly true.
She looked at him for a long moment. “You used to sell security systems, but you sacrificed your career to expose criminal wrongdoing at your company. Now you’re cracking security systems and stealing stuff. You’ve done a complete about-face for us. Has it occurred to you that maybe we’re just a couple thieves taking advantage of you?”
Actually it hadn’t, but he didn’t want her to think he was so blinded by his hatred of Carter, hobbled by insecurity, and desperate for money that he hadn’t considered all of the angles.
“Of course it did,” he said. “But a real thief wouldn’t be so bothered by her conscience that she’d keep trying to talk me out of the job she wants me to do.”
“Maybe I’m using reverse psychology.”
“Fine,” Joe said. “I’d better see Carter Grove doing a perp walk when this is over, or I’ll go to the feds. Feel better?”
“Much,” she said.
Of course he was bluffing. If he turned her in, he’d be confessing to a crime himself, which would probably get him sent to an American prison, and he knew they were bad. He’d watched Lockup on MSNBC. So no, he wouldn’t do anything if he found out he was being tricked.
But Kate probably knew that. She just needed to hear him say he’d turn her in, and that had a powerful impact on him. It convinced him that she was honest, even if she was doing something inherently dishonest, and that she genuinely cared about his safety.
The needle on the Corvette Stingray V-8’s speedometer was passing 150 miles per hour, and the tachometer needle was shivering near the 6500 rpm redline, when the car salesman in the passenger seat let out a frightened squeal and gripped Wilma Owens’s thigh in terror.