Page 23 of Red Line

He’d considered Red’s health, but could this possibly be about Poole?

Black’s gaze swept past Nutsbe to take in the room where a woman sat at the highly polished conference table. She looked small in the black captain’s chair. Her ebony hair and navy blue dress made her sink away until all that was truly visible was a determined face.

“Miss Abadi,” he said. This was one of Red’s most important assets with essential contacts in both Lebanon and Syria.

“It’s Mrs. Ackerman now, but you can call me Sophia,” she said without standing. Instead, she opened her hand toward the chair next to her by way of invitation. “I’m sorry if I’m disrupting your day. I tried to reach Red but was unsuccessful. I just received news from a friend of mine.” She stopped and slid her hands down her skirt, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles on her lap. “I understand that you and Red are on the same team and that all information is shared between you? I remember you from before.”

Okay, she wasn’t bringing him bad news about Red. That, at least, was a relief.

“Yes, exactly. That’s how I was able to intervene on your behalf when the FBI mistakenly took you into custody.”

Sophia bit her lower lip and looked over her shoulder at Nutsbe, who sat just behind her and to her left with an enormous bullmastiff dripping drool onto the carpet. When Nutsbe didn’t warn her off, Sophia turned back to Black. “Okay. Red isn’t answering, and I don’t think holding on to this story is wise. I’m just going to tell you.”

Black reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a digital recorder. “May I?”

“I prefer that you don’t, actually.” She gave a tight shake to her head. “AI can trace voices now, and I’m not interested in getting on anyone’s list. I’m meeting you here because it’s safe for us to talk at Iniquus. No one would know I was passing on information. I have every reason to be at my husband’s office, even if he’s out of town.”

“Notepad is okay?” Black tucked the device away and extracted a pad and pen. He sat back and waited for her to start in her own time.

“Yes. Okay, so I typically offer Red information about conflict relics sold to fund terror. This time, it’s more of a treasure hunt that I want to bring to your attention.” Sophia cleared her throat. “There is a man named Zayd Ali Kamal. Do you know of him?”

“Yes.” Kamal was one of the wealthiest men in the Middle East.

“He has offered a forty-million-euro prize for anyone who finds his fiancée’s great grandmother’s wedding gift. It’s a ring with a rare red diamond.”

“Fire of the Desert.” Black nodded. “Last seen at the end of World War II when she was imprisoned in Marrakesh, Morocco.”

“Exactly.” Sophia licked her lips, then lifted the water bottle resting in her lap for a sip. “Since you know that, did you know it was found?”

“What?” Black edged forward in his seat. “No. By whom?” Forty million euros in the hands of an entity like ISIS could be cataclysmic. And if this had nothing to do with funding terror, why would Sophia Abadi Ackerman be involved?

Sophia drew a hand across her forehead and exhaled hard. “I received a call from my friend, Dr. Wajeeb.”

Black nodded. “Syrian antiquities professor.”

“Retired. Yes.”

That he knew the name and could label him seemed to lower Sophia’s distress. That disquiet was understandable since she was out of her chain of command, and the information she dealt with usually put lives on the line.

“Okay. Dr. Wajeeb received a phone call yesterday from a friend, Dr. Klein of Munich.” She looked over to his pad when he hesitated and spelled. “K-l-e-i-n. Dr. Klein and Dr. Wajeeb have been friends for decades. They are in similar fields, and they often discuss rarities. Dr. Klein called Dr. Wajeeb and told him that five men had just come to his office—”

“In Munich, Germany?” Black asked.

“Exactly. They had the Fire of the Desert ring with them and asked that Dr. Klein authenticate their find.”

“But it’s been missing since World War II … How?”

“I know nothing about that.” She twisted the cap off the water, then twisted it back on. “I know that Dr. Klein agreed that the ring was authentic, signed the papers verifying his opinion, and the men left his office. Dr. Klein then called Dr. Wajeeb to share this story. Dr. Wajeeb was on the phone when Dr. Klein yelled that there had been gunshots. Dr. Wajeeb said he then heard the sound of the phone thudding, presumably onto thefloor, and the sound of running feet leaving the office and going down the stairs.”

Black pressed the tip of his ballpoint into the pad.

“Dr. Wajeeb, of course, was horrified. He waited for his friend to get back in touch with him to give an explanation. When day turned to night, Dr. Wajeeb searched the Internet for information about gunshots fired in Munich to see if he could figure out what he had heard over the phone. Dr. Wajeeb discovered that there were five men shot in the head by what was described as more than one sniper on the rooftop across the street from Dr. Klein’s office address. Dr. Klein was also dead. Pending autopsy, they believe it was a heart attack. The police, of course, have no idea why someone targeted these men. None of them had identification, though things of value—watches, for example, and phones—weren’t taken. At first glance, it didn’t look like a robbery. The only thing taken was a briefcase. I can show you this.” She pulled out the phone that she had tucked under her thigh. “This video was recorded by the street cameras and shown on the news.”

Sophia scrolled, then held the phone out to him.

Black watched a video clip of a woman bending low over a downed man, not to check on him but to take a briefcase. Then, she calmly walked down the road away from the carnage. The cane and the foot of an elderly man slid into view, but from the camera angle, nothing more was visible except the edge of a car door when it opened and the legs of the woman when she slid into the driver’s seat.

The car moved sedately into the street and drove away.

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