Page 19 of The San Marco Heist

I gave them a summary of everything Malcolm had told me. For Brie’s sake, I kept my words measured and factual, despite the nerves careening around my chest that I still hadn’t gotten control of. “With all the coincidences or mistakes required for those kidnappers to know we took the Codex and for them to find Emmett, my assumption is Malcolm’s in on it. I need you two to tell me the odds of that. Hack his phone, research his identity, and let me know.”

Brie swiped the phone and placed it on a docking station, windows and command lines already flying across her screen. “I’m creating a new VPN for this, Will.”

“Got it.”

I strode to the rear of the room, past a work table covered in electronics, a mini treadmill she sometimes pushed under her pneumatic desk, and stopped in front of the sofa. “And I need it before the kidnappers call in an hour.”

“Consider it done,” said my super-smart little sister.

Instead of slipping down for a few minutes of rest, I veered over to Brie’s whiteboard. “You need any of this?”

She craned her neck, squinted at the board, and pushed her oversized glasses up. “Nope, it’s all yours.”

I began erasing, plans and options and strategies flitting through my brain. If I wrote them down, I’d be able to wrap my hands around them. I’d be able to figure a way out of this and bring our brother home.

Chapter 8

Malcolm

Thedoorwhippedopen,and I looked up just in time to catch the phone hurtling toward me.

Scarlett marched in with the other woman behind her. “This is Brie.”

Brie nodded, tapped on the tablet she was carrying, and the large television at the end of the meeting room flicked on. The left half of the screen contained video feed of a man in his mid to late twenties with brown hair and eyes, while the other half was my driver’s license, three of my PI licenses, and a photograph of my passport.

“And that’s Will,” said Scarlett, pointing to the man on the screen.

I gestured to the painting I’d been admiring. “This looks remarkably like a piece that was stolen from a museum in Miami about five or so years ago?”

Scarlett continued, unphased by any of my words. “Military brat, grew up moving from country to country around Europe, went to some of the best prep schools in England and the US.”

“I don’t suppose itisthat painting?”

“Only one arrest, when you were twenty-three for drunk and disorderly, and your PI licenses are… What was it you said, Will?”

The man on the screen said, “Real.”

“I could have told you all of that, if you’d asked. I’m on your side here.”

“But what I don’t understand is how a private investigator from New York gets himself an invite to a high-end closed-door poker game?” Scarlett pulled out a chair to sit, and Brie did the same. “Emmett flew all the way down at five in the morning. He doesn’t do that for small personal gains. What was the buy-in? Thirty thousand? Fifty?”

I leaned on the chair in front of me, taking some pressure off my injuries—my painkillers were wearing off. “Nothing more than a business investment. I’m not some cheap back-alley gumshoe you’d see in a movie, pissing into a jar. My clientele come from money, and you’d be amazed at how loose some people’s lips can get when they’re drinking and playing cards with you. Lose a few hands, and they feel superior. Win a few hands, and you’re one of the gang.”

“And that’s how you get clients like Philip Maguire? And why you have PI licenses up and down the East Coast?” She’d introduced me to her two colleagues and hadn’t thrown me out on my ass, so she was leaning toward trusting me. With someone else, I might’ve guessed it was a desperate attempt to keep me around because of the kidnappers. But I was pretty sure Scarlett Reynolds hadn’t experienced desperation in at least a decade.

“Yes. And it keeps my options open.”

Scarlett folded her hands and leaned on the table. “What would you do in my shoes?”

“Trust me.” And I could think of a few other choice thoughts, but saying any of them out loud wouldn’t garner me any favors.

“I meant beyond that. Let’s assume I believe what you’re telling me. You happen to show up at the same game Emmett does. Possibly invited by the same person, but maybe not. Three armed men come in, take you and my brother. They beat him and leave you untouched, trusting you for some reason, and hoping you’ll convince me to hand over some item Emmett claims we stole from Philip Maguire. What would you do next?”

Not quite untouched, but I had a sneaking suspicion she’d accuse me of injuring myself to gain her favor if I told her that part. I looked at the man on the screen, who must have been watching me from a camera hidden in the television. Then to Brie, who continued tapping away on her tablet. “Obviously, I’d give me the Codex.”

Scarlett’s eyebrow quirked again. That was thetell me moreprompt.

“Except you won’t, will you?” I should have talked to Emmett more about her. Figured out what made her tick before I flew up. Because no matter how good I was at reading people, she was giving me next to nothing.

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