Derek didn’t dispute the obvious. “Let’s see what my feelers turn up. I should hear back tomorrow. Until then, the FBI agents we assigned to Wallace have been advised of the escalated danger. They’re on high alert.”
Sloane chewed her lip, worry creasing her brow. “Wallace is scared. He’ll never admit it, but he is. Now that he realizes the full extent of Liu’s hatred, and how far he’ll go to carry out his vendetta, he’s pretty shaken up. Especially with Xiao Long breathing down his neck, ready and waiting to do Liu’s bidding. I tried to reassure him. I reminded him that we put extra security on him and that we’re working with the Hong Kong police to establish solid evidence against Liu. I even tried to divert his mind by giving him something to look forward to. He has a big fund-raising event at the Jaspar Museum in Soho tomorrow. He’s one of the museum’s major sponsors. I urged him to go.”
“And?”
“And he said he’ll think about it.” Sloane sighed. “I wasn’t going to lie to him, Derek. I don’t blame him for being scared.”
“Neither do I. But if anyone can reach him, you can. You have a way with people that’s amazing.”
“I hope that holds true in this case. After Wallace left Ben’s factory, all he wanted to do was have it out with Cindy—which I doubt was pretty—and then lock himself in seclusion. I told him I’d get his partners to gang up on him and drag him out if need be.” Sloane raked her hands through her hair. “I feel so damned helpless.”
“You’re not. You’re getting answers. So am I. We’re closing in on this case. We’ll get there.”
She twisted around to gaze up at him. “Speaking of which, if I haven’t said it enough times, thank you for what you did for my father.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” Derek reminded her. “Your friend Diane worked with me every step of the way. Your dad’s technically in custody. So’s your mom, on trumped-up charges of obstructing justice. All that’s only for Xiao’s benefit. This way, if his Red Dragons poke around to make sure the cops found the stolen painting where they planted it, they’ll find out that your father’s been arrested and is being held at the Nineteenth Precinct—along with your mother, so Xiao doesn’t try going after her. But don’t worry. They’re in a comfortable break room, not a cell. The charges are pending until we wrap up the case. But we all know the anonymous tip was an obvious setup.”
“And a scare tactic. That phone call Xiao made nearly gave my parents heart attacks. As for the setup, Xiao might as well have hung up a neon sign.”
“Yeah.” Derek made a derisive sound. “Out of the blue and at the exact same time that Wallace and Leo are getting their packages and Ben is being pushed over the edge by Jin Huang, the Nineteenth Precinct gets a call from one of the victims of Xiao’s Upper East Side burglaries, claiming he’d gotten an unsigned note saying he could have back his priceless painting The Bird—for a finder’s fee of twenty-five thousand dollars. Of course, when he called the phone number provided, he got a voice mail message saying he’d reached Matthew Burbank and Associates. Then, low and behold, when the cops ransack your father’s office, they find The Bird shoved behind one of his office file cabinets.”
“Not to mention that The Bird just happened to be stolen a week before my parents’ place was ransacked. Now I know why my mother said Xiao’s guys spent a long time shoving things around in my father’s office, when they already knew damned well where the Rothberg file was. Could there be a more obvious plan to frame my father for art theft?”
“Nope. Then again, Xiao wasn’t going for subtlety.”
Sloane frowned. “You’re sure the police will drop the charges?”
“Positive.” Derek counted off on his fingers. “Your father has an alibi for the night The Bird was stolen. Johnny Liu has a vendetta against your father and his partners—one he unleashed on all of them simultaneously. And the FBI has a solid case against Xiao Long, who we’ll try to establish has a connection with Johnny Liu. Trust me, there’ll be no problem. All the charges against your father will be dropped. Diane and the Bureau are already working on it.”
“I owe both you and Diane a huge debt of thanks for jumping on this and getting it resolved so quickly.”
“You can thank Diane by buying her lunch. As for me, I have other ideas for how you can express your undying gratitude.”
Sloane smiled. “With pleasure, Agent Parker.”
“Oh, one more thing I forgot to tell you. When I talked to Leo, he told me he was rifling through your file that night in the hopes of finding the dossier the Bureau had compiled on him, and that it might contain something that would give him a clue as to where his fiancée was. He realized it was a long shot, but he saw the file and acted on impulse. I can’t blame the guy.”
“Neither can I. I’d move heaven and earth to find you.”
Derek gave her a deep, slow kiss. “You won’t have to. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Derek, let’s get married.”
Sloane’s proposal came out of the blue. Derek was so stunned he nearly fell off the sofa. “What did you just say?”
“I said let’s get married. Soon. Before I reapply to the FBI, and hopefully am accepted. Before I go down to Quantico and put in my time at the Academy. This way, when I graduate, the Bureau will be more apt to place me in the New York Field Office with you. We’ll be married, but there’ll be no conflict of interests. You handle Violent Crimes, and I handle White-Collar Crimes. Different squads, same Field Office. This way, when I start my new professional life, my personal life will already be exactly where I want it.”
Derek was still staring at her. She’d obviously given this a great deal of thought. Even so, he had to be convinced she was a hundred percent certain.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked bluntly. “That you’re ready to make this official? To commit to a lifetime? It’s a huge step.”
“Unless you’re not ready, or it’s not what you want.” Sloane’s tone was teasing, but her gaze was serious as she searched Derek’s face.
“Are you crazy?” Derek gripped her shoulders. “Say the word, and we’ll get a marriage license tomorrow.” He frowned. “If we lived in New York, we could be husband and wife the next day. In New Jersey, there’s a three-day waiting period. But, okay, we’ll be married this weekend.”
Sloane laughed. “I see you’ve done your research. But let’s slow down, just a little. And not just because of this Johnny Liu case that’s about to explode wide open. Although, truthfully, I’d like to put it behind us so we can enjoy our day.”
“Fine. What else?”
“I’m not a big fan of traditional weddings, but I’d kind of like to have our families there, and a few close friends. And I’d also like a little time to savor the thought of becoming your wife. How about a December wedding, right before the holidays? That’ll give us six weeks to plan.”
“Done. Let’s pick a date.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Sloane and Derek drove into the Field Office together the next morning. Once inside, they went their separate ways. Derek headed off to fill Rich in on The Bird and all the other happenings of yesterday. And Sloane went into one of the conference rooms for her morning’s first order of business: calling the Nineteenth Precinct to check on her parents.
They were both hanging in there. So, Matthew reported, were his friends, all of whom he’d spoken to. Everyone was strung out, but holding it together. Each in his own way was taking steps to put his life back together. Leo was welcoming the bittersweet knowledge that Amalie had never stopped loving him, but had left him to protect her children. He was worried sick about her, but convinced, thanks to the FBI, that Xiao Long hadn’t yet located her. If he had, she’d be dead, killed right before Leo’s eyes. So Leo was focusing on a plan, once this crisis was behind them, to hire a PI to find her—hopefully so they could enjoy the happy ending they’d been deprived of.
Ben was calling his AA sponsor and arranging to attend a meeting. And t
o Sloane’s pleasure and surprise, Wallace had decided to take her advice and attend the Jaspar Museum’s evening fund-raiser.
The details of her father’s update lifted a huge weight off Sloane’s shoulders. All these fundamentally decent men she’d known all her life had been through hell. All of them were at their breaking points. And all of them were fighting their way back.
Relieved beyond measure, Sloane shifted her focus to checking out a completely different extraneous detail that had been bugging her.
The background check that Derek had run on Cindy Liu had been so clean that it practically sparkled. It had also been superficial, the only personal detail being her close relationship with her uncle. Something about that didn’t sit right. It was almost as if the details of her life had been scrubbed clean.
Which usually implied there was something to hide.
Maybe they were all underestimating Cindy Liu. They’d relegated her role in Liu’s plan to wreaking havoc on Wallace’s emotions. But she was a very intelligent, very talented woman.
So maybe there was more to it. Maybe Cindy’s talents were being used in a more diverse fashion.
Sloane logged on to one of the conference room computers and began her search.
Sloane lost track of time as her search took on a life of its own. She started digging deeper, and the slight niggle she’d been feeling going into this escalated into a full-fledged suspicion. The information she was uncovering wouldn’t interest only Derek. It would also interest Rich. It smacked of being a major link connecting all the tentacles of this complicated and diverse case.
She’d just printed out some pertinent pages when the conference room door swung open and Derek strode in.
“There you are,” he said, the frustration in his tone telling Sloane he’d been searching for a while. “I was getting a little antsy. You vanished hours ago.”
Sloane glanced at her watch, startled when she saw the time. She’d been in the conference room for over three hours. “Sorry. I had no idea I’d been in here so long. I checked in with my dad, and then got involved in some online research. I want to run my findings by you and Rich…” She broke off when she saw the intense expression on Derek’s face. “You struck pay dirt. What did you find out?”
“More than I expected.” He sat down beside her, crackling with as much energy as a live wire. “I got those phone calls I was waiting for. The first was from a former Army Ranger buddy of mine who’s working in the U.S. Embassy in Beijing. He did enough digging to get us our answer as to why Liu’s hell-bent on executing all his plans urgently and simultaneously. He’s dying. He’s only got a month or two to live.”
All the pieces fell into place in Sloane’s mind. “Of course. Now it all makes sense. Liu wants to settle all his personal scores and fill the triad’s coffers with a ton of cash before he dies.” A pause. “And I suspect he’s getting a lot more cash than even we’re aware of.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll get into that in a minute.” Sloane wanted to hear the rest of Derek’s news first. “Who was your other phone call from?”
“One of my contacts at the Guardia di Finanza.”
“The Italian special police force?”
“Yup. My kind of outfit—military corps and law enforcement all in one.”
“I’ve dealt with them. They serve the Ministry of the Economy and Finance and investigate financial crime like credit card fraud and money laundering.”
“And anti-Mafia operations,” Derek added.
Sloane’s brows arched. “Go on.”
“It turns out they’re investigating Wallace’s leather company—which, incidentally, is totally controlled through a complex web of legal entities, several of which are located in Hong Kong, all with Cayman Island bank accounts. The ownership is so convoluted that only Wallace is traceable.”
“Why?”
“Good question. Even better answer. The Guardia di Finanza suspects that the company has been manufacturing counterfeit high-end leather goods and that it has strong ties to Albanian organized crime.”
“Damn.” Sloane exhaled sharply. “So Liu is not only robbing Wallace blind and setting him up to take the fall for a dirty business but he’s also setting him up so the authorities will believe he has ties to Albanian organized crime.”
“And you and I know exactly why. Liu’s planning things so that when Rich and his squad close in on the Black Eagles, he’ll miraculously discover that their funding leads straight to Wallace. Johnny Liu will have extricated himself entirely, and Wallace will be stripped of everything and charged with every crime in the book, including conspiracy, racketeering, major theft, and murder.”
That prompted a question in Sloane’s mind. “How long has Wallace had an ownership interest in this leather goods company?”
“A year. Why?”
Sloane shrugged. “I’m just surprised that Wallace didn’t take on a more active role in the purchase. He was an investment banker before Sophie died—a pretty brilliant one. It’s out of character for him to blindly trust someone else to handle all the details on such a sizable transaction. Even if Wallace didn’t have the wherewithal to take the reins in the acquisition, he’d at least do some due diligence. Clearly, he didn’t. If he had, I’m sure he would have spotted something fishy.”
“What are you getting at?” Derek asked.
“I’m not sure.” Sloane studied Derek uneasily. “Could there have been a different motivating factor—one that would keep Wallace from asking any questions?”
“You mean like blackmail?” Derek mulled over the possibility. “Liu certainly pulled it off with Wallace’s partners, through Xiao Long. But what would they have on Wallace to blackmail him with—other than those things Liu was unwilling to make him aware of?”
“You’re right. I’m probably overthinking this.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ve spent a lot of time exploring Liu’s ties to Wallace as they relate to Meili. We really should broaden the spectrum, investigate the entirety of their history.”
“And while we’re at it, I think we should include Cindy in that investigation. She and her amah.”
“That woman Peggy Sun? Why?”
“Because she came to the U.S. with Cindy fifteen years ago. Since then, she’s attended some very prestigious art programs—at Johnny Liu’s expense, I’m sure. There’s no way a governess could afford training like this. And the direction of the training…” Sloane held out the pages she’d printed right when Derek walked in. “Take a look at this.”
Derek scanned the first page, then the second. He raised his head. “I have to make a quick phone call. But I think we should get this right to Rich.”
“I agree.”
Instantly, Derek punched in Rich’s extension. Then he stepped out to make his call.
Liu motioned for his trusted adviser to enter his private library.
“Zhezhi.” One word, uttered as a command.
His adviser understood. Literally, Zhezhi was the Chinese art of paper folding, a predecessor to origami. But in this case, Liu was instructing him to collapse all traces of his involvement—ties to the Italian leather goods company, to any paintings bought from and sold by Wallace’s galleries, to shipping manifests for the stolen and forged paintings, and to his orchestration of the plan to destroy all the members of the art partnership.
In response, his adviser nodded. “It will be done at once,” he said in the Loong Doo dialect.
“And my family?” It was phrased like an inquiry. It was anything but.
“As we speak, steps are being taken so that Cindy and her amah will have nothing to hide. Their home, their characters, will be beyond reproach. As for Xiao, he’s ready to assume the role of Dragon Head as soon as he’s needed. He’ll leave for Hong Kong on your command. He knows that, as a precaution, a special bank account in the Cayman Islands has been arranged for him, to be used in the future should he miss his window of opportunity to escape and end up going to priso
n. He is humbled by your generosity. Your name will never be uttered.”
“Excellent,” Liu replied. “Then I can bring my life to a close, and join my daughter.”
Derek was back from making his phone call when, five minutes after being summoned, Rich came striding through the conference room door.
“I had The Bird authenticated,” he reported. “It’s genuine. Unfortunately, it’s also devoid of fingerprints or anything else that could link it to the Red Dragons.” He looked intently from Derek to Sloane. “I doubt that’s the reason for your urgent call.”
“Read these.” Derek gave Rich the pages of Sloane’s research. “We want your opinion.”
With a great deal more thoroughness than Derek, Rich pored over the sheets of information. Then he let out a low whistle. “My opinion is that we’d better do an exhaustive profile on Peggy Sun. Ditto for Cindy Liu. And fast. I agree with Sloane—these two are doing a lot more to assist Cindy’s uncle than manipulating Wallace Johnson’s emotions.”
Derek’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open and glanced at the caller ID. private.
He punched the receive button. “Yes?” he said cautiously.
“Hello, Special Agent Parker,” a polished voice with the slightest hint of an Asian accent greeted him. “Your extreme interest in me is flattering. I thought it was time I contacted you directly.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this?”
“I think you know. But if you need confirmation, that’s fine. This is Johnny Liu.”
“Johnny Liu,” Derek repeated, his hard, pointed stare meeting Sloane’s startled gaze, then flickering to Rich’s intrigued one. Quietly pressing the speakerphone button, Derek placed the phone on the conference table and pulled his chair up close beside it. “How did you get this number?”
“I would think by now you’d realize I’m a resourceful man. There’s very little I can’t acquire.”
“Including the most efficient and devout followers,” Derek replied. “Xiao Long has really proven himself to be a worthy Dai Lo. You must be very proud.”