Page 61 of Red Line

Red inserted earbuds to listen, and every time Elena spoke, Red tapped the program, flagging the AI.

From this, their AI software would learn Elena’s voice. Red could simply tell the program to open Elena’s cell phone mic and record. The recordings were two-fold. One included the ambient sounds. In another, the AI software focused on Elena’s voice and the voice she was conversing with, removing that ambient noise for clarity.

In this way, the unimportant should not distract, but the important shouldn’t be overlooked—someone sidling up to Elena and passing information by a quick passing phrase, for example.

While Elena was put on hold, Red opened her photo album.

Langley had floated the idea that Color Code might be able to find a way to exchange the Fire of the Desert for a fake that Red now carried in her pocket.

Finding such an opportunity was a stretch of the imagination.

Elena would have to be roofied or something to make that possible.

Someone at Langley—certainly not Black—had cooked up that scenario. If they did switch the ring, Grey and Red were told, then the US government could message Kamal that the ring was a fake and Dr. Klein’s signature was a forgery should that be the route the government chose.

The pictures showed that each of Elena’s fingers was decorated with a different ring with red stones. In her body-hugging black velvet dress, Elena made this look elegant. Not a single one of those rings, in and of themselves, looked like the Fire of the Desert. One wrapped Elena’s right ring finger, embellished with stones from knuckle to knuckle in a Gothic swirl that incorporated a large stone and a starburst of smaller stones. Red was convinced that the Gothic-style ring was the Fire of the Desert hugged by a ring guard.

If you didn’t know, you’d never know.

Smart woman.

Clever.

Red would have to remember that about Elena.

Chapter Twenty-One

Red

Having waited in the bathroom stall until she was sure Elena was back in the ballroom. Red followed after her, listening to a conversation between Elena and a man that the AI had labeled as Joel Brighton, Kamal’s representative.

Red glanced around and almost immediately spotted Grey. Red sent a piercing glance across the room until he turned her way, and then she telegraphed that Grey should come join her.

And he started purposefully over.

Without a preamble, Red handed him a bud that he popped into his ear that was closest to the wall. He leaned his shoulder into the wall, casually swirling a martini glass. His other hand debonairly thrust into his pocket, looking like the kind of man who should be at a Great Gadsby soirée.

“I am so confused,” Elena’s frustrated voice was heard clearly. “Why can’t we simply perform the transaction this evening? It’s simple enough to do. If not here, then your hotel, for example?”

“Kamal wishes to make the circle complete. You see, Sireen’s great-grandmother Haamida and her sister tried to blend in with the local population, hiding from the Gestapo in the Marrakech Medina. Despite their best efforts, the Nazis found them, obviously. That is where the sisters were arrested, and the ring was stolen from Haamida. We know the sisters lived in the Secret Garden,Le Jardin Secret. You will meet Kamal there. And in the garden—which is very tranquil and beautiful after its restoration—you will hand him the ring, and he willtransfer the money to your account in the currency of your choice.”

“IthoughtI was here to affect the transaction.”

“No. I am merely verifying that you are not playing a game.”

“And if I were?”

“I would not have looked kindly on the act. And discipline would be applied so that a naughty girl would learn to act in a mannerly way.” He said it in a cheeky way, as though he were commenting on an absurdity with an absurdity. But Red knew from the slight acidity that gave his last syllables their bite that he had very much meant it. His boss was not to be toyed with. “But here I find that you have refined taste, a beautiful waltz, and you are a woman who acts with integrity.”

So weird, Red thought. People with too much money like Kamal were just super weird—everything was a go, and yet, Morocco? Full circle? Red was frustrated for Elena. And herself. How would Red discover where the money was going until she could follow the transactions?

Morocco?

If he wanted things to be full circle, why wouldn’t Kamal simply invite his fiancée and present the ring to her in the Secret Garden? Would Sireen even know what had taken place?

What was the game here?

Red caught Grey’s gaze, asking him his read on this.

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