Exposed Target, page 19
Beck typed in the number, put it on speakerphone, and set the phone in the middle of the table.
The room went quiet as it rang.
A disembodied electronically modified voice came over the phone. “Identify yourself.”
“This is Deputy Marshal James Thompson.” Beck gave one of the undercover names he used in court and other situations. “Who am I speaking with?”
“Deputy Thompson, do you have Ciara and the item we require?”
“We need to pick up the item first,” Beck said. “Then I can meet you with Ciara.”
“She comes alone, with the item.”
“I go or we won’t allow her to.” Beck fixed his stare on Ciara. Reno now stood behind her, likely ready to clamp her mouth shut if she started to argue.
“You have one hour,” the voice said. “You will call me again at 6:00 p.m. and I will give you further instructions.”
“We’ll meet you at a mutually agreed upon point after that,” Beck said.
“You will meet where I tell you to.” The snide words came over loud and clear, despite the electronic modification. “Or Isabella Cruz loses a finger.”
Reno clamped his hand over Ciara’s mouth and brought her back against his chest before she could exclaim.
“I want to hear Ciara’s voice, so that I know she’s with you.”
Reno uncovered her mouth.
“This is Ciara.” A tear rolled down her face as emotion clearly rushed over her. “Just let my mom go—”
Reno put his hand over her mouth again and Beck watched him murmur in Ciara’s ear. Her body relaxed and she slumped her head forward.
“I expect a prompt call at 6:00 p.m. Don’t fuck with me.”
The call ended. Dead silence filled the room.
Reno released Ciara, who moved to Beck’s side.
Beck pocketed the phone and spoke to the assembled team. “We’ve already gone over everything you need to know and do. Now, here’s where we’re going.”
Body armor weighed Ciara down like she might sink through the sidewalk as she climbed out of the SUV. She walked into the crowded train station, Beck at her side. She hadn’t expected to wear the armor, and she felt as if she trudged through mud.
Her skin prickled. Six months ago, she had left the broach here. Would it still be safely in the backpack in the locker?
Ciara’s belly flipped. She prayed the diamond broach was in there. Everything rode on that one piece of jewelry. If someone had broken into the locker and taken it, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“This one.” Ciara slid her hand into her pocket and drew out the key, her heart pounding. She slid the key home and turned it.
The door squeaked open—
The purple backpack with the yellow boy on the zipper pull was in the locker.
A breath of relief rushed out of her and she yanked the pack out of the locker then slammed it shut with a harsh clang.
The weight felt comfortably the same as she remembered when she’d crammed the books in there, the broach in red velvet at the bottom of the bag.
“Let’s go.” Beck touched her elbow.
Ciara clutched the backpack to her chest, her arm looped through a strap as they walked outside. They headed to the SUV parked at the curb with a law enforcement placard on the dash.
During the brief time she walked across the sidewalk to the vehicle, her skin prickled even more.
What if the jammer didn’t work or the drones they had now were on a different frequency?
Beck opened the SUV and Ciara climbed in next to Reno, and she let out her breath. Beck seated himself on her right after he closed the vehicle’s door.
Ciara unzipped the backpack and slid her hand inside, past the books.
She felt along the bottom. She didn’t feel the velvet pouch inside.
Her heart pounded in her throat. Her skin grew tight. She tried again. Nothing. She shook the bag and she thrust her hand inside again.
This time her fingertips brushed velvet, and she closed her hand around the small pouch. The size and weight felt the same as she remembered.
She drew the velvet out. “This is it.” She opened the drawstring and tipped the pouch over her hand.
The red diamond in its stunning setting landed on her palm.
Reno sucked in his breath. “Holy shit.”
Arness looked over his shoulder from the driver’s seat. “That sums it up.”
Beck took the sparkling broach and stared at it.
The facets glittered, sending out a thousand shards of light. Utterly mesmerizing.
“I’ve never seen a red diamond in person, but I’ve read about them.” Beck shook his head and looked at Ciara. “Looking at the size of this thing and the setting, if this is the real deal, you do know this is a multi-million-dollar hunk of rock?”
She couldn’t get any words out for a moment. When she did, she rushed them. “Like I said, I intended to keep it there forever as a bargaining chip. I never intended to sell it. As far as I know, the Sokolovs attained it through blood money.”
Reno leaned over Ciara and took the broach from Beck. “One hell of a bargaining chip.”
She held up the pouch. Reno dropped the broach inside and she pulled the drawstring tight.
Reno brushed his palms on his jeans. “No wonder they want what Ciara had so badly.”
Beck glanced at Arness, who wore a look of amazement before he turned his attention back to the van windshield.
Beck stared at the pouch. “Can’t believe you walked into this neighborhood carrying that broach.”
Ciara shrugged. “I did what I had to do. I had to drop it off close to a police station so I could turn myself in for my and Mamá’s protection. Thank God they went straight to her and took her away before the Sokolovs could reach her.”
“Now we wait it out until the next phone call,” Beck said.
Reno looked at his watch. “Five minutes. We cut it close.”
Beck turned to Ciara. “No matter what is said, you need to remain quiet. This is all a part of negotiations. If we don’t pull back a little, they’re going to think they have the advantage over us. We want to keep as much control as possible in our court. I won’t do anything I believe might jeopardize your mother or Pamela. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
While they waited, he did a search with the description of the diamond and setting. A few moments later, he looked up. “This is the Star of Russia. It’s got one hell of a history.”
Beck pulled out the blocked phone just before 6:00 and put it on speaker when he hit redial.
“Do you have the item?” Same disembodied voice.
“Yes,” Beck said.
“Describe it.”
“Red diamond surrounded by smaller red diamonds, then white diamonds in a star pattern.” Beck paused. “Zvezda Rossii, the Star of Russia, a five-carat diamond worth approximately one hundred million dollars.”
Silence. Likely the person on the other end of the phone hadn’t counted on them knowing the name of the diamond and setting, or the value.
“Good.” The voice continued, “Have Ciara take a cab to the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square. Anyone follows, we cut off one of Isabella Cruz’s fingers.”
“We’ll meet you,” Beck said. “But at a mutually—”
“There is no we. Ciara alone will meet us in Times Square,” the voice repeated. “She must be there in fifteen minutes. The broach for her mother’s life.”
Ciara cut her gaze to Beck.
“You told us 8:00 p.m.,” he said.
“Why wait?” A laugh that sounded bizarre electronically turned deadly. “Send Ciara and the broach.”
The call disconnected.
“Shit.” Beck shut off the phone while he, Reno, and Arness shot looks at one another.
He focused on Ciara. “I won’t allow you to go alone.”
She set her jaw. “You don’t have a choice.”
Beck shook his head. “No, damn it.”
“We’re wasting time.” Ciara shifted in her seat. “Let me out so I can get that cab.”
“We won’t have time to get everyone in place.”
Arness said, “That’s exactly what they want.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ciara tried to get out.
Beck reached across Ciara and handed the velvet pouch to Reno. “Hang onto this.”
“What are you doing?” Ciara gripped Beck’s hand, her eyes wide. “I have to take it.”
Beck shook his head. “Not like this. All they’d have to do is grab you and the broach and they’re gone without turning over your mother or Pamela.”
Reno took the pouch from Beck. By his expression, it didn’t affect him in the slightest to stuff a hundred million in his jeans pocket.
“Ten minutes left.” Beck glanced at his watch and opened the side door. “I’ll signal a cab for Ciara. Reno, you inform the rest of the team to get there, and we’ll make sure we don’t lose her.”
“But no one is supposed to come.” Her eyes widened and she grabbed his shirt with both hands. “They’ll cut off her fingers.”
“Trust me, Ciara.” He studied her beautiful face. “I won’t let anything happen to you or your mother.”
She let out a rush of air. “Okay.”
22
Heat followed by a chill washed over Ciara’s skin as she walked away from the cab to the Hard Rock Café. The sky had darkened but the bright lights of Times Square illuminated the sidewalk. Her stomach twisted as she looked around for someone familiar. Beck had ordered her to stay outside so that they could keep eyes on her. But what if she was supposed go inside?
She ducked into the restaurant doorway. Her heart pounded harder. Beck couldn’t see her now.
She stood still, looking around, wondering what would happen next.
The crowd thickened outside the doorway and her skin turned icy despite the muggy, overcast evening. A storm would be rolling in tonight.
What would Beck do now that he couldn’t see her. She prayed he wouldn’t get in the way—she needed to get her mother back.
She shivered even though heated air pressed her down. She wanted to leave this place, but she had to stay for Mamá.
Something hard and cold pressed into her back and someone dug fingernails into her shoulder.
“Scream and I will shoot you in your spine.” A familiar cultured Russian woman’s voice said close to Ciara’s ear. She ground the gun harder against Ciara’s back, beneath the body armor, sending a shock of pain through her. “The bullet will sever it and you will be paralyzed for life.”
“Natalia?” Ciara tried to make sense of the fact her ex-boyfriend’s sister had a gun in her back. Her pulse rushed into her head. “You’ve done all this? You kidnapped my mother?”
“Shut up, Ciara,” Natalia hissed in her ear as she pushed her through the dense crowd toward the curb.
A man grabbed Ciara’s upper arm in his big hand, and she cried out in surprise. Another man grasped her opposite arm.
“Do not make another sound.” A heavy Russian male accent. The huge man of at least six-five squeezed her arm so tightly she could barely catch her breath.
Her heart leapt in her throat.
Natalia did this? She’d always thought the woman hated her. But kidnap and murder? Somehow, she’d thought Natalia above that.
Everything was happening so fast it made her head spin. They shoved her into the dark interior of a scarred white van. She landed on her hands and knees hard on the ridged floor, thick with grime. The big man pushed her again. She fell over onto her side. Pain lanced through her shoulder and her hip.
He kicked her in the stomach. Air whooshed from her chest, and she cried out, feeling as though a log had been rammed at her chest. Everything blurred and tears rushed down her cheeks. The big man raised his foot again.
“Yuri.” Natalia grasped the man’s arm as she shouted at him in Russian. Yuri moved away but glared at Ciara.
Natalia pushed back her hoodie as she neared Ciara. “I would take care if I were you. You killed Stephan. They were close friends.”
Ciara’s skin prickled. The butt of her Sig Sauer dug into her hip, making her wish she could take it out to defend herself.
Natalia shouted to the driver in Russian while the smaller man closed the sliding door between them and freedom.
She tried to sit up, but the smaller man pointed his gun at her. She froze.
“I wouldn’t test Mikael.” Natalia sat on the floor, across from Ciara. “He lost friends that you and your deputy killed.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “He plans to kill your Deputy Marshal Beck Richardson after we take care of you.”
A blast of cold iced Ciara’s veins.
The driver jammed his foot on the gas pedal, the van surging forward. The movement caused Ciara to slide on the floor. The driver sped away from the curb and the van rocked with the motion.
“The marshals are following us,” the driver yelled from the front. “Hold on.”
The van careened through the streets, throwing Ciara and her kidnappers around the interior.
Ciara looked at Natalia who, despite being tossed back and forth, appeared gorgeous and elegant in a blonde ponytail, black T-shirt, black jeans, and black shoes.
Yuri and Mikael, who struggled to remain seated, shouted to each other in their native language. They had dressed similarly to Natalia.
Ciara tried to push herself to a sitting position as someone turned on an interior light. She noticed the distinctive tattoos on both men’s arms and on their necks. Her research over the past six months told her the tattoos indicated the men, of course, belonged to the Sokolov “family.”
“Why?” Ciara tried to speak so only her almost-sister-in-law could hear. “Why did you kidnap my mother? How could you?”
Natalia’s expression darkened even as she tried to gain her balance. “That was not of my doing, but it did get your attention, did it not?”
“Then who ordered the kidnapping?” Ciara asked. Probably Oleg.
“Shut up, Ciara.” Natalia glared at her. “This is your fault. You stole the ledgers and something that belongs to us. Niko is in prison because of you.”
“They would have killed me.” Ciara wanted Natalia to understand.
“You could have left without turning him in.” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “And you shouldn’t have taken what does not belong to you.”
“I only took it in case something like this happened,” Ciara said. “It was my insurance policy.”
Natalia braced her hand against one side of the van before being tossed to the other side. “That would not have been a concern if you hadn’t turned in Niko and his books.”
Ciara fell to her knees with the next swerving motion, but she still managed to talk. “You would have hunted me and my mother because I saw Niko murder those men.”
“I would not have.” Natalia shrugged. “My brother would have lost interest, and Uncle Oleg wouldn’t have thought of you as a big enough threat.”
“I don’t believe that.” Ciara shook her head. “Not for a minute.”
“Think what you will. Know, however, whatever happens next is because of your stupidity and selfishness.” She landed on her knees close to Ciara. “You do have what I want, yes?”
Ciara swallowed. “Of course.”
“If this damned van would stop swerving, I would search you.” Natalia gritted her teeth. “As long as you do have it, we may let your mother and the woman live.”
May?
An ache developed, as if a vise clamped around Ciara’s head. She couldn’t think of anything else beyond the fact that she didn’t have the broach. Why hadn’t Natalia tried to take it even as crazy as the motion of the van was? Maybe she didn’t want the men to see it.
Ciara would lie for as long as she could.
Her stomach clenched. Would Natalia or Oleg have the men cut off one of her mother’s fingers or kill Pamela once Natalia discovered Ciara didn’t have it?
The van raced in what felt like circles around the city. She could see nothing in the back of the windowless vehicle. They could be in New Jersey or still in New York City for all she knew. Maybe even Long Island. From her position on the floor, she couldn’t see through the front windshield.
Her head throbbed and her body ached from being thrown around.
It seemed like an hour had passed, even though it had to be much less, before the van came to an abrupt stop. She skidded with the motion and hit her head against the side of the van. She winced from daggers splintering her skull.
Natalia put on her hoodie before Yuri slid open the van door. The big man grabbed Ciara’s foot and dragged her across the ridged floor then grabbed her arms. In one fast motion, he righted her so that she stood on the sidewalk.
A storm would arrive tonight. The humidity and the situation Ciara found herself in might have buried her under their combined weight if Yuri and Mikael hadn’t held her up by her arms.
“Hurry,” Natalia said. “We may not have lost the marshals.”
Ciara looked around but couldn’t tell where they were in the darkness lit only by streetlights and an occasional passing car. The men held her in front of a bar named The Tipsy Goat and a restaurant called The Red Star, which stood next to a laundromat and a dry-cleaning store.
The Red Star. Even the name chilled her through.
“Do not say one word.” The hoodie hid Natalia’s face well, but her voice was clear and crisp. “Not one.”
The men half-marched, half-dragged her to The Tipsy Goat behind Natalia. The four of them stepped into the bar and left the heat and humidity of the cooling June evening.
She blinked, trying to get used to the dim interior.
Cool, dry air slid over her sweaty skin, chasing away the remnants of the muggy day.
Numbness spread through her from head to toe.
Natalia paused and pulled out her phone. She looked at Yuri and jerked her head toward the back.
Yuri and Mikael kept their grips on her as they walked past the bar’s few patrons. The people there ignored Ciara and her escorts, as if they knew better than to pay attention.
