Page 80 of The Picasso Heist
“The raid? I’m not sure,” I tell him. “They don’t want Lugieri to be home at the time, that’s all I know.”
“That’s easy. Just raid his house around dinner. The guy’s out at that damn Italian restaurant almost every night,” he says. “So what’s the bad news?”
I glance around his office, hesitating. Near the windows are about a dozen full-body mannequins wearing Bergamo’s latest dresses in preparation for his upcoming fall fashion show. The dresses are beautiful but the vibe is a bit unsettling; it’s as if we have an audience.
“This morning while meeting with Elise Joyce, I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to,” I say. “One of the other attorneys in the room screwed up and let something slip. According to the FBI, someone in Lugieri’s crew has been doing some digging on you.”
“The FBI?”
“Their cyberterrorism unit or whatever they call it.”
“I don’t follow,” he says.
“I don’t blame you. It’s crazy how they made the connection, but apparently whoever’s doing the digging around your offshore accounts is using some pretty sophisticated software—as in military grade.”
“And this guy, whoever he is, works for Lugieri?”
“Yeah.”
Bergamo’s shaking his head. “I still don’t follow.”
“Does Dominick Lugieri have any reason not to trust you?” I ask.
“He’s a mob boss. He doesn’t trustanyoneoutside his family.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve given me account numbers and everything else Joyce could ask for to get her search warrant.” I’ve been standing in front of his desk the whole time, and now I edge closer, my eyes boring into his. “She doesn’t have to know, but I do. Are you skimming from Lugieri?”
“No,” he says. “Of course not.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why are you bothering to ask if you’re so sure?”
“Because I need to hear it from you,” I say.
“What difference would it make? It doesn’t affect you.”
“No? What, you think the guy digging around in your finances wouldn’t want to see who you’re keeping company with these days, if there’s anyone new?”
“You’re giving yourself too much credit, Halston. You’re just some kid working for an auction house. If anything Lugieri would think you’re my…” He laughs.“Goomah.”
“I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“Relax. I told you, I’ve passed the audition. If there were any red flags, Lugieri would’ve found them. He didn’t, which is why the next drop is what it is, a huge sum. He trusts me.”
“I thought you said he doesn’t trust anyone outside the family.”
“Call it what you want,” he says. “Lugieri’s handing me eighty million dollars in cash to clean for him. What more do you need to know?”
Nothing more, Enzio. You’ve said enough for now.
CHAPTER69
I WALK HALFa block south from Bergamo’s offices, turn the corner, and stop at the back of the large delivery van parked at the curb, a repurposed UPS truck that’s been painted white. I knock three times—twice fast, pause, then once. The doors split open immediately and I step inside, right back where I started. I’m a human boomerang.
“Did you get it?” I ask.
“Yeah,” says Devin, the tech who wired me up. He’s at the console wearing a backward Yankees cap, fidgeting with some knob. “We got it.”
