Kitsune pulled back her hand.
“Did you honestly believe I was going to walk in here and hand you the stone? Do you take me for a fool, Lanighan? This is how business is done. You know the proper procedure. I see the weapon you carry under your coat. Did you plan to shoot me dead the moment you have your diamond?”
They were circling each other now, Kitsune watching his hand carefully for any sign he was going for the gun in his pocket. He was not the same man she’d met two years earlier. There was something different about him.
He’s desperate, she thought, finally recognizing the problem. But why? What had happened over the past two years?
It didn’t matter. Mulvaney had warned her she shouldn’t trust Lanighan.
“I will ask you once more. Where is my diamond?”
“The Koh-i-Noor is safe. You transfer my money, and I will tell you where to take the key. I keep my bargains. I always have. Do you?”
He was becoming enraged. She recognized the signs and took three steps back, put her weight on her back foot, ready to defend herself.
He whipped the gun from his pocket and jabbed it toward her chest. “I have been warned of your duplicity, your intention to take my money and the Koh-i-Noor. I will not allow you to do this. I want my diamond, and I want it now.”
She spun, pivoting on her left foot, and her right leg clipped the gun from his hand, sent it skidding across the floor. She followed with an elbow to his jaw, snapping his head back, knocking him into the table. She darted across the room to the weapon, raised it, aimed as he turned and started toward her.
Her voice was ice. “Stop. Right now. Or I will shoot you, Lanighan, and you will get nothing.”
He dropped his hand to his side. His rage was barely controlled. He said between clenched teeth, “It seems the warnings against you were correct.”
“Who would say that about me? I always play by the rules. You’re the one acting like an amateur. Now, I’m going to watch you transfer the money, then I will give you the key, and we will part ways, each satisfied our end of the bargain has been upheld.”
“Very well. Give me the key. An act of good faith.”
Without lowering the weapon, she tossed him the small envelope.
“It is a five-minute walk from here. Now transfer my money.”
“You will come with me.”
She shook her head. “If you try to walk out this door without transferring my money, I will shoot you dead and keep the diamond for myself.”
“Where is the diamond now?”
“Bank Horim. You can see it from here, Saleem. Go out on your balcony and look to the right.”
He considered her for a moment, then shrugged and went to the balcony. The outside air was biting, and the sun was disappearing rapidly. He turned to the right and saw the pulsing blue and white lights half a mile away.
“Kitsune. Come here.”
“So you can throw me off the balcony? No, thank you.”
“Come here now!”
She edged carefully toward the open door. She saw the lights immediately, realized there were police ears in front of the Bank Horim.
Her mobile rang, a secure number. It was Marie-Louise Helmut.
The older woman’s voice was a whisper. “People are asking about you.”
“What people?”
“An America FBI agent and an Englishman from Scotland Yard, plus a French FedPol agent. I am holding them off as long as possible, but they know you were here, and they are bringing warrants. I will not be able to stop them from opening the box.”
Drummond had found her. She’d known he would; deep down, she’d known. But how? How had he found her here?
Kitsune couldn’t allow them to open the box, not while the stone was inside.
Kitsune said, “You must open the box yourself and remove the contents.”
“I cannot, the FedPol agent is still here.” Then Helmut said, “I did send the man and woman to Sages, as you instructed. If only the third agent would leave, I could retrieve the contents of the box unnoticed.”
Kitsune’s heart sped up. A chance, then.
She said, “Do what you have to do. Make it happen.”
She turned to Lanighan.
“There is a problem, but I am handling it. Meet me back here in two hours.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, turned and left so quietly he wouldn’t have known she’d even been in his room if he hadn’t seen her with his own eyes.
66
Geneva, Switzerland
Sages Fidelité
Friday, early evening
Sages Fidelité was not a bank, it was simply a small building with a counter separating the foyer from three walls of floor-to-ceiling safe-deposit boxes. Mike and Nicholas burst in the door at a run, and the attendant behind the counter jumped to his feet and threw his hands in the air. He looked so scared Mike had to bite back a laugh. This was going to go better than it had at Bank Horim.
The boy was the assistant manager, a gawky youth who didn’t look old enough to shave. Tomas was his name, and he was happy to share all he knew, though, alas, it wasn’t much.
He looked at the picture and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, she came in this afternoon and rented a box. She paid up front, the nonresident of Switzerland rate, for two years. Then she put something in the box and left.”
“Let us into the box.”
The wide Adam’s apple bobbed. “Without her key, there is no way to open it.”
Nicholas banged his fist on the counter. “Find a bloody blowtorch, then. Get the box open, right now. And let us see the paperwork.”
The kid knew a serious man when he saw one. “No, no, don’t do that. I have a master key. We’re not allowed to use it, though; it’s only for emergencies.”
Mike touched her fingers to her Glock. “This is an emergency. Open the box.”
The boy swallowed and handed over the paperwork, then ran into the back for his master key.
Mike said, “This place isn’t very secure.”
“If it were one of the banks, this would never happen. They’d have to drill the lock out. There’s no guarantee of safety in a place like this.” He looked down at the paperwork. “Cheeky girl—she rented the box in the name Duleep Singh.”
Mike asked, “Duleep Singh? The last rightful owner of the Koh-i-Noor, before it was handed over to the British, right?”
“Yes. She’s playing games with us.”
The boy came back with the master key, opened the lock of the safe-deposit box, and quickly stepped back. Nicholas pulled the gray plastic box from the wall.
It was light. His heart began to pound. Was this it? Had they found the Koh-i-Noor?
Without waiting to set it on a table, he opened the box. There was only a piece of paper inside.
“I’d hoped it was the diamond. No such luck.”
He pulled out the paper. There was a list of numbers. No rhyme or reason to them that he could see.
“What is it?”
Mike took the paper from him and studied it. “Bank accounts. They’re consistent, each with thirteen numbers. Numbered accounts. We better let Savich throw this into the mix.”
“What’s that written on the back?”
She flipped the paper. Written in an elegant cursive were eight words. This is all you get. Leave me alone.
Mike said, “Do you think this is directed at us, or to someone else?”
Nicholas looked down at the message. “It has to be someone else, since she shouldn’t know we’re here. But we’re a step closer.”
He saw the young man watching them warily.
Nicholas dropped the box and crossed the floor in three steps, grabbed the boy’s collar, and jerked him up on his toes, got right in his face. “What else did she do while she was he
re?”
“N-Nothing, sir.”
“You’re lying. Did she buy another box?”
The boy was silent. Nicholas shook him. “Which one is it?”
“She didn’t, I swear.”
He said to Mike, “Call Menard, have him send over his officers to arrest this man.”
“Wait. Wait. Okay. She did rent one more box.”
Nicholas let him go. “So she paid you to keep quiet about it, did she, Tomas? Too late now. Open it.”
This box was heavier than the first. Nicholas carried it to the small Formica-covered table in the center of the room. He began to lift the lid, saw a flash of blue velvet and the clear, clean lines of molten glass.
The Koh-i-Noor.
Then the lid caught. He stopped and, holding his breath, he slowly and carefully allowed it to close.
“Everyone, don’t move.” Still holding the lid carefully closed, he fished in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife with its small attached flashlight.
He eased down onto his haunches until he was eye level with the edge of the lid, and keeping it less than an inch open, flashed the light inside.
There was the Koh-i-Noor in the box. Surrounded by wires.
Bloody hell.
He thanked the Almighty for the instincts that had just kept them all alive, and gently laid down the lid. Without moving, without raising his voice, he said, “Mike, it’s rigged to blow. Get the boy and walk outside. I’m right behind you.”
She didn’t hesitate, grabbed Tomas’s arm. “Come with me, right now.”
When he was sure they were safely outside, Nicholas carefully eased his hand from the lid, praying he hadn’t jostled the bomb. It was meant to explode the moment the lid was lifted past a quarter of the way open.
He slowly and silently backed away. He was still in one piece, which meant he hadn’t tripped the pressure switch. It didn’t mean they were safe, there could be a secondary timer, or it could work on a mobile signal, like the bomb in New York. It was surely divine intervention they all hadn’t been blown to kingdom come.
No way would he try and disarm this bomb himself. He needed to leave the building as quickly and calmly as possible and bring in the experts, with their robotic counterparts, to deactivate the switch.
He backed toward the door until he felt the handle under his hands, then turned swiftly and stepped outside. The freezing air bit his face, and he breathed a deep lungful. Too close, Nicholas. Too bloody close.
The glass door swung shut behind him, and he searched for Mike. She was across the street with Tomas, her face white. She was scared. And she was shouting at him, her hands above her head, arms waving wildly.
His mind registered her screams, and he felt rather than heard the glass shatter behind him with a ferocious burst of heat and ear-blasting explosion. He dropped to the ground, rolling into a ball, protecting his head, as the explosion roared around him, glass and metal twisting and hurtling outward, shooting out fire that burned his hands.
He couldn’t hear anything, see anything. It was all black.
67
Parc Saint-Jean
Kitsune watched Drummond and Caine talking to the boy, manhandling him, and the idiot caved and opened the box for them. At least he’d followed her instructions—if a couple came in looking for information, he was to give them the box with the paper in it.
If Saleem Lanighan came in, it was a different story.
But Drummond had scared the daylights out of the kid, and he’d brought out the second box. The box meant for Lanighan.
Her left thumb was on the detonator, the right held a monocle trained on the Sages Fidelité lobby. She was safe, across the park, but well within radio range.
She watched them talking about the bank account numbers in the first box. She saw Caine flip the paper over, saw Drummond snatch it from her and read her short message, meant for them.
This is all you get. Leave me alone.
More discussion, then Drummond got physical with Tomas and she knew it was all over.
All it would take was a minute press of her thumb, a hint of pressure, and this would all be over.
No more Drummond. She recognized she was full of righteous anger, a feeling she remembered well from when she was younger and less disciplined. She’d acted on emotion only once. This couldn’t be about rage. This was about survival.
She’d wanted it to be Lanighan to open the second box, to blow himself off the face of the earth, because it would mean he’d betrayed her.
She held the detonator in her hand and watched. No, she wouldn’t have to blow up the box, Drummond was going to open it and do the job himself.
She heard Mulvaney telling her once, twice, perhaps with the planning of every tough job: Redundancy is your friend, Kitsune.
She gritted her teeth at the thought of her mentor, pushed him from her mind. She needed to be clear for this. There would be time enough later to find what happened to Mulvaney.
She watched Drummond stiffen, and she knew he’d realized the bomb was there. She watched Caine drag Tomas from the building, and run across the street. And she watched Drummond slowly lower the lid, then slowly step away from the box. His life was in her hands.
She hadn’t wanted it to end like this. She swallowed, breathed deeply, forced herself to calm.
Do it.
You have to survive. There is too much at stake.
Do it do it do it!
The front door opened and Drummond was outside—Do it now.
Her thumb twitched, and it was over.
68
The car shook with the force of the explosion, but Kitsune put it in gear and drove away, counting on debris from the explosion and the bursting flames to cover her escape.
Two blocks from the explosion, on a quiet, unmarked street, she found a small gray Fiat, still running, the owner probably running into the house to get something. Perfect.
She abandoned the rental in the small driveway of a town house, threw her things to the Fiat, and was gone all in under a minute.
She forced herself to calm, to think, to figure out what she was going to do now. The sky was already darkening. She would be all right. She had two more clean identities in her bag, both prepared for her by Mulvaney, and there was no one better than him. Where was he? No, she couldn’t think about him just yet, too much to do.
She started west immediately. The border was only a few kilometers out of town, and she wanted to make it through before they’d been alerted about her.
Since all available personnel would rush to the scene, including the FedPol agent, Helmut would have enough time to secure the box and its contents. She’d better come through, Kitsune thought, since she was paying her a small fortune.
Lanighan had betrayed her, just as Mulvaney had warned he might. She hadn’t seen it coming, though. She thought back to the night in Paris with him two years before; she’d weighed, judged, and decided his desire for the Koh-i-Noor would keep him on the straight and narrow. He was a businessman. He knew how things worked. So what had changed? Why did he now consider her the enemy? Why had he believed she was betraying him?
A thief who would hand over the goods in person was a fool, hardly professional. He knew this. Give him the key, make sure her money was transferred, and everyone was happy. It should have worked seamlessly. Instead it was all unraveling.
Those precautions she’d set into place were going to save her now, not only from Lanighan but from the authorities, too.
She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. It would have to suffice for the moment, until she could feel Lanighan’s blood on her hands.
She changed quickly, pulling on a new wig and pulling out the appropriate ID from the base of her backpack. She called Marie-Louise Helmut at the Bank Horim.
“Did you secure the package in the saf
e-deposit box?”
“Yes, madam. A fortuitous happenstance, there was an explosion nearby. Even the FedPol agent went to deal with the emergency. You will not be coming back to the bank, I presume?”
“No. Send the contents to the Café Popon, on Rue Henri-Fazy.”
“I know it.”
“I will be there in ten minutes. Have your person waiting in the women’s loo.”
“Ten minutes.” Helmut rang off, and Kitsune felt her control slide back into place. Ten minutes and she’d have the diamond back in her hands. She pulled the Fiat into the light traffic, checked the mirror to see if anyone was following.
She made it to the Café Popon in five minutes, walked to the counter, bought a croissant and a coffee. The television set above the cash register had an alert on the screen, the local station running news of the bombing, showing the horrendous carnage, the flames bursting into the sky, raining down debris. It was the only local event, she thought, dramatic enough to replace the outrage over the stolen Koh-i-Noor.
She listened to the rapid-pace French. Three injured, none dead. So Drummond hadn’t died in the blast. He was in the hospital, then, and that would slow him down, surely long enough for her to get herself, and the diamond, away from Geneva.
A young woman entered the coffee shop, walked directly past Kitsune toward the back. Kitsune followed her to the bathroom.
It was an expert handoff, the diamond was now heavy in her pocket, and Kitsune was gone. As she climbed back in the car, she thought maybe she needed some help with things after all. At the very least, it should surprise the hell out of him.
69
Geneva, Switzerland
Hotel Beau-Rivage
Friday, early evening
Lanighan raced back to the balcony at the sound of the explosion. It shook the railing and rattled the windows. He saw the ball of fire plume into the air, then smoke, black and thick, well up, blacking out the sky.
Where was Kitsune? Was she responsible for this?