Page 6 of The Bounty
“Catherine confirmed,” Jax said. Catherine, Charles’s granddaughter, had eventually turned state’s evidence, and they could consult with her when items such as these made an appearance. “I was able to cobble together a tentative lot list. I’m pushing that through to the encrypted chat now. The rest of the items are from the Sanders estate in Salzburg.”
Wags opened the encrypted document, scratching his scruffy jaw as he scanned the list. Nothing jumped out on his first read-through, but on his second pass, he noticed the item out of place among the other treasures at the same time as Marsh, both of them declaring, “The diary.”
“In Japanese,” Wags added, noting the crucial fact. “Blaine’s mother’s?”
“If I had to guess,” Marsh agreed with a nod. “Claudia Anthony’s father was from Japan. She was fluent. Blaine is too.”
“So let’s assume Blaine is after his mother’s diary. Sentimental value or…”
“Or,” Marsh stressed. “Blaine wants to put his father away for good. When Levi and I questioned him last year, he implied his father had something to do with Claudia’s death. That he’d threatened to do the same to Blaine if he didn’t toe the line.”
“But hasn’t Stewart implied the opposite?” Brax said. “That struggles with Blaine at home drove Claudia to suicide?”
Marsh side-eyed his best friend. “I know which Anthony I believe.”
Wags agreed. “Blaine must think there’s proof of his father’s guilt in that diary.”
“Couldn’t he just forge it?” Jax said. “It’s what he does—and he does it incredibly well.”
“He probably wants it for sentimental value too,” Marsh said. “We got the impression he and Claudia were close.”
A united front against his father, until Stewart had silenced one of them and used it to deter the other. And Wags had thought his father was an arsehole for cutting him off and throwing him out for being gay. But in no scenario could he imagine his father, as awful as he was, going as far as murder or blackmail.
“Do we think he’ll turn himself in once he has the diary?” Brax asked.
“He went willingly into custody before,” Marsh said. “And stayed there.”
“Until he didn’t,” Wags said, “otherwise I wouldn’t have been traipsing across Europe for the past month.”
“That’s not on us,” Brax said at the same time as Marsh’s, “He bribed one of the custodial officers with bitcoin and a blowjob.”
Wags’s stomach flipped, his nighttime fantasy twisting and contorting into something darker. Was he just another mark? Had Blaine simply been doing what he usually did? Bribing and flirting his way to freedom?
“He wants out of this mess,” Marsh said, drawing Wags’s attention back to him. “Then he wants to move on.”
“Move on to what?” Wags asked.
When silence greeted him, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. “He’s not just a bounty, is he? He’s a prospective asset for Redemption Inc.”
“We all have a vested interest in bringing Blaine home,” Brax said. “Safe and sound.”
Six
Wags stepped out of the elevator into the building’s lobby, tugging at the lapels of his borrowed suit jacket. He was certain he’d never donned threads this fine before, but Sean’s suits were clearly tailored just for him, including a slim fit around the middle that was doing Wags no favors. He wasn’t out of shape, per se, but the past month of globetrotting hadn’t exactly lent itself to balanced meals and regular exercise. Hadn’t lent itself to regular shaves either. The coat was tight, his clean cheeks pale, his neck being strangled by a tie for the first time in weeks, but at least he looked the part. And maybe a little less familiar to those at the auction who might otherwise recognize him.
“Mr. Wagner?” He spun on his heel and found the uniformed concierge holding up a manila envelope. “This was dropped off for you.”
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the package, and then, seeing no car at the curb, he meandered to the seating area by the windows. He emptied the contents of the envelope onto the side table: a burner phone—why? Redemption had an encrypted channel—and an American passport with his picture, the name Parker Barrow, and an address in Rowena, Texas. Suppressing his irritation, he focused instead on the passport’s pages, examining the holograms and stamps. It was top-notch work.
He pulled out his regular phone and texted Jax via the encrypted channel. Nice work on the passport, but Bonnie and Clyde? Really? Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, American bandits known for robbery and murder. From Texas, no less, meaning he’d have to use that damn accent tonight. This could only be one person’s doing. Marsh can fuck right off. And why do I need a burner?
His phone rang, Jax’s name lighting up the screen. He lifted the phone to his ear, ready to curse Marsh out some more, but Jax didn’t give him a chance, asking abruptly, “Where did you get the passport and phone?”
“A package was waiting for me at the concierge desk in Sean’s building.”
“The German passports we had made for you and Blaine are in the car coming to pick you up. ETA two minutes.”
He stood and gathered his now mysterious items. “Suppose you didn’t leave this other phone, then, either?”
