Page 95 of The Wolves Come at Night
Two hours later, they were back in France. The doctor met them at the house, and assured them Santi’s ankle was not broken, only a very bad high ankle sprain. He casted him and gave him painkillers, which Santiago manfully declined. Angelie shoved two in his mouth anyway, and he was sound asleep upstairs with his foot resting on a pillow. Jackson had been quiet all the way back, and once they’d arrived, had excused herself to take a shower. Once the doctor was paid and sent on his way, Angelie was left alone downstairs, searching for a madman.
Sheik Ahmad bin Abdullah was a handsome rake who brokered in stolen treasures, flying them around the world, slipping through customs like water through a sieve. He had money to burn, zero conscience, and a smile that could make angels weep. Damn if Angelie didn’t like the man. But she was wary of him, too. Ahmad would not take this slight lightly. Even if they were only borrowing the painting for a short time, he would come after her, and see her dead.
The best choice was to make sure he didn’t know the painting had been stolen in the first place. Especially not by Angelie.
It would be a neat trick to steal the painting, trade it for Carson, murder Joseph Game, and return the painting—without Ahmad realizing it was gone. Not impossible, but close to it.
But Angelie always did like a challenge.
She plotted long into the night. Alan was in regular touch, searching for Ahmad and his flying grift. Around midnight, Jackson wandered into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of wine, glanced at Angelie’s empty glass, brought the bottle over, and splashed some red into the crystal. Then she joined Angelie at the table.
“So?” she asked. “Where are we going?”
“London. Looks like he’s in a slot at Northolt for the week. Only presents a slight challenge, as it’s the RAF base. Crawling with security. Which is why he likes it. Plus, you know that sort of man. He gets a level of excitement from thumbing his nose at authority. The government is protecting him while he’s stealing from them, and they don’t have any idea, that sort of thing.”
“How can he stay off their radar if he’s so notorious?”
“He’s only notorious in certain circles. The public persona is one of great respect and admiration. Above reproach.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“We get into the private jet area, to his slot, and we take his plane.”
Angelie had to admit, it was almost worth dropping that bomb to see the shock on Jackson’s face. If she weren’t already lost in thought on how, exactly, they were going to pull this off, she might have even laughed.
“That’s impossible. You want to steal a G-Five—”
“Not a Gulfstream. A 747-800. Fully customized. Bought from the factory and retrofitted to his specifics. It’s a flying palace. There’s an Atlantic piece on the renovation, very detailed, very specific. It gives me the new layout. Incredibly stupid of him to allow, because now he’s operationally insecure.”
The incredulity written on Jackson’s face was priceless. “Angelie. I’m not the kind of woman who would second-guess you in your chosen field. But that’s simply not going to happen. We can’t steal a 747.”
Angelie began to laugh. “Oh, if you could see your face. Of course we aren’t going to steal the plane. We’re simply going to take the painting. Then we will fly to the location Game gives us, exchange Carson for the painting, and we will disappear. Forever, probably. I can’t imagine Ahmad taking kindly to losing his prized possession. If he finds out who was behind it, we’ll both lose our heads.”
“Ha ha. Great. Lovely. How are we going to take the painting?” Jackson shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.”
“The painting is built into the plane. Behind bulletproof glass. It’s wired and alarmed. For most people, they would not bother. It is too much trouble to steal.”
“Then Game is just trying to get us killed. He must expect us to remove the painting from the plane, right?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps he believes the challenge is one we cannot accomplish and is laughing at us for even considering it. It is difficult, yes, but not impossible. We have a high-end tactical micro explosive that can sever the wired connection. It’s very small. If placed properly, it will release the locks. Then we’ll be able to cut the glass with a laser. There will be a pressure-sensor alarm inside, but with luck, I can circumvent that, as well. We remove the painting, make our way back to our plane, and fly out, with none the wiser. Easy.”
Jackson cocked a perfect eyebrow. “Easy. Bulletproof glass–cutting lasers and tactical micro explosives. What is this, a James Bond movie?”
“You lack imagination. The writers of those movies get their ideas from my operations.”
That got her. Jackson actually laughed. Angelie continued. “But I don’t care about these inconsequential details. That vile man killed my friend. He kidnapped a dead man’s daughter—an innocent—and cut off part of Carson’s finger to taunt me further. I am no longer willing to play this game of his. We are wheels up in three hours. I suggest you get some rest. I need you sharp.”
Jackson looked like she wanted to ask more, but Angelie needed to focus. She didn’t need the constant mosquito patter of the oh-so-ethical cop right now. She watched the big woman finish off her wine—deliberately sipping until the glass was empty—pour a fresh glass, then march up the stairs, annoyance bleeding off her.
Jackson was going to have to unlearn quite a lot if she wanted to succeed in this world. Was the woman an intuitive investigator? Yes, absolutely. But the constant second-guessing, trying to find a path that wasn’t illegal, that didn’t contravene her morality…Angelie would go mad, faced with much more of that. She couldn’t imagine Thierry would put up with it, either.
At the thought of Thierry, Angelie tensed. What was he up to? Why was he trying to bring this woman into the fold? It made no sense, not really.
Stop fretting, she told herself. There is more than enough worry to go around.
She turned back to her computer, and the plan ahead.
Get through this. Kill Game. Save Carson. These are the only things that matter. Then you can go home, and start over.
