Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
Hoover spoke into the phone. “I need you, Valentine Hart, and Dirk Reynolds to come into the station,” the detective said. “You know how it works. I’ve got irate neighbors and cops swarming the area around Reynolds’ house. I’ve talked to Hernandez, but I need a statement from everyone involved.”
Hoover needed a statement, but Ethan couldn’t mention the evidence Sadie had come up with, because it wasn’t exactly obtained by legal means. Besides, at the moment he had more important things to do.
“Later,” he said. “I’ll tell Reynolds you’re looking for him. I’ll bring Val with me and we’ll both give you statements. At the moment, there’s something I need to do.”
Hoover was still talking when Ethan ended the call. He flicked a glance at his brother, who prowled up beside him. “Time to talk to Stern,” Ethan said.
“Oh, yeah,” Luke agreed.
They headed back to Luke’s vehicle, a beat-up black-and-tan Ford Bronco at least ten years old. Being a bounty hunter required stealth. The old SUV could pass without notice. Unless you looked under the hood.
The Bronco sported a brand-new Ford Racing Alumina-tor XS 5.0 liter Coyote 500 horse engine. The SUV had been fully rebuilt. It had top-of-the-line four-wheel drive for off-road terrain and the speed of a gazelle.
Luke slid in behind the wheel and fired up the big V8 engine. “You got the address?”
Ethan rattled off a number on Olympic Drive in the Highlands, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Seattle. Luke drove his battered Ford up to the tall iron gates at the entrance to the exclusive community. Ethan smiled at the look on the gate guard’s round darkly suntanned face.
Just to be obnoxious, Luke gunned the powerful engine.
The man’s black eyebrows went up. His dark red uniform jacket suited him perfectly. He looked like he’d just gone AWOL from the Bengal army.
“May I help you?”
“We’re here to see Jason Stern,” Luke said.
“Your name, please.”
Ethan leaned over to speak through the driver-side window. “You won’t find our name in your visitor log. Call Stern, tell him Ethan Brodie needs to talk to him.”
The guard’s mouth lifted in a smirk. He didn’t think for a second Stern would give them permission to drive through the gate.
The Bronco idled, growling like an impatient tiger.
The guard spoke into the phone, listened, and started nodding. “Yes, sir. Of course, Mr. Stern. I’ll send them right up.” He turned, cast them an imperious glance. “You may proceed.”
The gate swung slowly open. Luke stepped on the gas and the beast rolled forward. They wound their way along the road through the lush green foliage, then up the circular drive, around the fountain in the middle of the circle.
The dented old Bronco looked completely out of place when Luke stopped directly in front of the house. Tudor style, constructed of brick, more than two stories high, the mansion had to be ten thousand square feet.
Ethan’s phone began to chime as Luke turned off the engine. “Brodie.”
“Jack Morrell. I’ve got news.”
Fortunately, the disposable had a speaker feature. Ethan pushed the button, then set the phone so his brother could hear.
“Good news or bad?” Ethan asked.
“Depends on how you look at it. Julian Latham isn’t involved in drug smuggling. From Caracas, he’s flying private into a little town called Santa Elena. It sits on the borders of Venezuela, Guyana, and Brazil.”
“What the hell is Latham doing down there?”
“So here’s the good news. Like I said, he isn’t smuggling drugs. The bad news is he’s smuggling diamonds. Venezuela is one of the world’s biggest diamond producers. Santa Elena is the hub of the black market trade in the country. It’s big business.”
“That so?”
“That’s right. Worldwide about seven billion in rough stones are stolen each year. They call it leakage. It’s a big problem.”
“How are they getting them out?”
“They’re smuggled through Guyana into other countries. Some of them go to Holland. The Dutch cut the stones for half the regular price, then ship them to Antwerp. From there, they make their way into the good ol’ U S of A.”
“Diamonds. Makes perfect sense. Julian’s father is one of the major investors in David Klein Jewelers. That’s where the company’s getting their stones. A few years back, the company was in the red. They started using stolen diamonds, and that’s how they got into the black.”
“The FBI’s stepped in. The Venezuelan authorities are holding Julian in Miami while the feds go after Peter Latham and whoever else is involved.”
Ethan felt a rush of satisfaction. They were going to make this end. He’d have a chance to talk to Val, convince her not to run the way Meg had.
“With the son in custody,” Ethan said, “it shouldn’t take them all that long to figure things out. I really appreciate this, Jack.”
“Are you kidding? I’m looking like a hero, thanks to you. Let me know if you ever need anything else.” Morrell hung up the phone.
Luke stared up at Stern’s impressive Tudor mansion. “Stolen diamonds. The profit’s got to be huge.”
“I’m betting that’s what got Delilah Larsen killed,” Ethan said.
Luke’s jaw tightened. “Why don’t we go find out?”