Page 34 of Waiting for Him
Devon walked over to where his teammate landed and held out his hand. “Let me see the photo again.”
“Here.” He gave his boss the picture, and they examined it together. Young Ivan stood at the corner of the house, where the front and chimney sides met. Nothing stood out, and Devon turned it over to the writing on the back.
“Fuck.” Boomer threw his hands up in irritation and spun around in a circle. “Ivan couldn’t fucking say ‘X’ marks the spot?”
The others mumbled in agreement as he faced what was left of the fireplace on the first floor. There had to be something they were missing. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky as if it held the answers. The morning sun was still over his right shoulder.
Son of a bitch!
He quickly checked the compass on his military watch and then stared up at the chimney again.
“Holy shit! I think I’ve got it.” Praying his epiphany was right, he scrambled up the stairs to the backyard and jogged around the foundation to the right.
“What?” Devon was on his heels, with Marco not much further behind. “What is it?”
The three stopped and gazed at the partially damaged brickwork, but only Boomer understood what he was looking at. “This side of the house is facing northwest.” He took the photo back from Devon. “It says ‘NW dash X.’ Northwest. And look at the upper left corner before the chimney narrows . . . there’s an ‘X’ on that brick. It’s like a crossword puzzle, I think. I remember Ivan doing them all the time . . . in ink! ‘17D dash 24A’ Seventeen down and twenty-four across.”
“I’ll tell Ian not to bother with the crossword dictionary as your Christmas present.” Devon smacked Boomer on the back as Marco stepped up to the bricks and began counting down and across.
Boomer snorted, then yelled for Kat to join them. She was skirting the foundation when Marco pulled out his Leatherman knife. With her phone to her ear, she gaped at the trio clustered close to the brick wall. “Aunt Irina, I’ll call you back.” She disconnected the call. “What is it? Did you find something?”
“Nice code-breaking, Baby Boomer. The brick here is loose.” Marco slid the blade into the mortar cracks and wiggled it a few times. When the brick was out far enough, he used his fingers to pry it the rest of the way and stepped aside. “You solved it–you get to put your hand in there.”
The opening went further than the brick had, and Boomer shivered as he thought about all of the creepy crawlers that might be in the dark crevice—spiders were not one of his favorite things. Peering into the small space, he announced, “I think there’s something in there.”
Reaching in, his hand found a small shelf inside, and sitting on it was a long, round piece of plastic. He pulled the object out and glanced at the others. An old Pepsi bottle with a piece of paper rolled up and tucked inside was apparently their next clue. “Why do I suddenly get the urge to sing ‘Message in a Bottle’ by The Police?”
Kat took it from him and unscrewed the cap. Using her pinkie, she slid the note out and then unrolled it, with Boomer watching over her shoulder. Ivan Maier’s handwriting appeared. “Is he kidding me? Really, Dad? Another bunch of numbers? God, even in death, the man can be infuriating! He’s lucky I still love him.”
Taking the paper from her, Boomer handed it to Marco and said, “Looks like routing and account numbers. Think Egghead can find it?”
“Is whiskey wet?” the man retorted, pulling his phone from his pocket and bringing up the number he needed.
“Don’t tell him I asked. He’ll go on an hour-long tangent.”
“Try a five-hour tangent." He paused and then said, "Egghead? Got a job for you.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, they were all headed back to Charlotte, with Devon driving the lead car. In Benny’s passenger seat, Kat stared out the window, still in disbelief. Brody, whoever he was, had been able to trace the numbers to a bank and an account in the Cayman Islands without any trouble. From what he could figure out, Ivan Maier had opened the secret account three years before the hit was put out on him and his family. The initial deposit had been a mere one thousand dollars with no other activity until the day fifteen million dollars was transferred from a bank in Switzerland. Since then, the money had just sat there collecting interest, to a grand total of twenty-three million dollars and change.
It was apparent her father had planned his revenge ahead of time in case he ever needed to go through with it. While he never touched a cent of the money, two years after he and Kat settled in Portland, he’d contacted the bank and added her as a joint account holder. Kat was a millionaire on paper, but the money was tainted with the blood of her mother, brother, and anyone else those bastards had killed or hurt in the name of greed. And she wanted no part of it.
“Now what do we do? I don’t want to hand the money back to criminals, but I’ll do it if it means I get my life back.”
“First things first. We’ll head back to the Sawyers’ and get the rest of the team on a conference call with our FBI contact. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, baby.” He brought her hand, which he’d been holding, to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I promise. Then you and I will get to know each other all over again.” Leering at her, he licked her fingers. “Over and over and over again.”
Kat groaned, then giggled. “We have people trying to kidnap me, with probably no qualms about killing you and your team if you stand in their way. I have over twenty-three million dollars in ill-gotten gains in a bank in the Cayman Islands, and you’re thinking of sex.”
“Kitten, when it comes to you, I’m always thinking of sex.” Benny froze, then moaned and smacked the back of his head on the seat’s headrest. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot my dad’s birthday was yesterday. I never called him. Shit.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sure he’ll understand. Weren’t they going to the Billy Joel special last night?”
“Yeah. We’re almost at the Sawyers’. I’ll call him when we get there.”
