Chapter Thirty-One #2
Oleski hit Bench in the knee with the tenderizer and Bench groaned. One of the henchmen filled a pot with water. He splashed the water in Bench’s face and Bench sat up a little.
“Where is it?” Oleski shouted at Bench. “I know you have it.”
“I don’t have it,” Bench said. “She has it.”
“Liar,” Oleski said. “You think I’m a fool!” Oleski tossed the heavy metal tenderizer to one of the henchmen. “Hit him. Hit him until he’s hamburger, and then pull out the rest of his fingernails,” Oleski said. “And gouge out an eye. Use the pliers.”
Ahmed shouldered his rifle and stepped into the kitchen. “Everyone, hands on your head.”
The henchman threw the tenderizer at Ahmed, Ahmed dodged it, and everyone scattered.
There was a lot of gunfire and when the gunfire stopped, the two henchmen were writhing on the kitchen floor, Bench was awake but dazed, and Oleski and his second-in-command could be heard running through the house.
Ahmed was running after them. Gabriela was right behind Ahmed.
Oleski was breathing like a freight train, but he kept going, pushed by the gunman behind him.
The gunman turned and took a shot at Ahmed.
Ahmed and Gabriela both fired at the same time and the gunman went down.
Oleski stopped and turned, facing Ahmed and Gabriela. He had a gun in his hand and his piggy eyes were narrowed, his face red and sweaty, his mouth open with his tongue stuck out, sucking in air.
“You!” he said. And he crashed to the floor.
Ahmed and Gabriela walked up to the gunman. He had a hole in his forehead and one in his chest over his heart.
“I’m the hole in his head,” Gabriela said.
“I’m a chest man,” Ahmed said.
Oleski was on his back with his eyes fixed and bulging. Not breathing. Ahmed toed him.
“It looks like we finally found the big guy,” Gabriela said.
“I’m thinking heart attack,” Ahmed said. “Overdue.”
Gabriela looked up at the painting on the wall. “And right in front of the Cézanne. I’m glad we didn’t have to take a shot at him in front of the painting. I’d have hated to have missed and damaged the art.”
Gabriela was looking calm and exuding bravado, but her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she was feeling nauseous.
Her chosen profession was finding lost objects.
Killing people wasn’t anything she ever aspired to.
She took a deep breath and looked around.
Oleski’s house was filled with art. She was guessing they were originals and many of them stolen.
Maybe all of them were stolen. Purchased on the black market.
The nausea was replaced with a sense of satisfaction.
She was sure Harley’s insured art pieces were here in this house.
Harley was saved. Her job was done. Almost. She glanced over at Ahmed.
He was watching her. No emotion was showing on his face, but she knew he had to be thinking of the prize.
The golden coffin. So, now comes the ugly part, Gabriela thought.
“About the golden coffin,” she said. “I have a feeling it’s not here.”
There was a pause and then the slight narrowing of his eyes. If he was a fox and I was a rabbit, I’d be running in panic, Gabriela thought.
“Where is it?” Ahmed asked.
“I don’t know,” Gabriela said. “No one knows.” She stepped back from him, thinking a little distance might be prudent. “It’s lost.”
“Excuse me?”
“Lost.” She looked around. “How about a Van Gogh and a Miró? You can take your pick.”
“I don’t want a Van Gogh. Explain ‘lost’ to me.”
“There’s no way to explain it. It’s just lost. It’s been lost from the beginning. Bench was sure I had it, but he was wrong. I never had it. It was last seen when it was delivered to the Mausud warehouse in Cairo. And then it disappeared. No one knows how or exactly when or where it is.”
Ahmed stared at her for a long moment. “I underestimated you.”
“I needed help, and you were my best resource.”
“If I was in your position I would have done the same.”
“So, you aren’t angry.”
His posture was relaxed but his eyes were intense, and his words were measured. “Let’s just say that I’m not happy. And I would advise you to not underestimate me. Brendan’s coffin is out there somewhere, and I expect you to find it.”
“About Harley. Do we get him back?”
“I will be overjoyed to give Harley back to you.”
It was past midnight when Gabriela said good night to Rafer and shuffled into her hotel room.
It had been a long day and an even longer night.
They’d been able to account for all of Harley’s insured paintings, plus Etruscan vases, Ming dynasty horses, a Dalí folio of Alice in Wonderland, and a diamond-dust Mickey Mouse Warhol.
They’d found them scattered throughout Oleski’s mansion, along with a treasure trove of art and artifacts stolen from museums and private collectors worldwide.
She’d returned the Rosetta Stone to the British Museum. The only outstanding item was the Egyptian coffin. Given the circumstances, she was sure Harley wouldn’t be held responsible for the loss.
She’d spent hours talking to the local police and finally to Interpol. Her reputation had helped to facilitate the interviews. Ahmed’s credentials, it turned out, were even more helpful, going so far as to give him diplomatic immunity.
Gabriela stepped out of the steaming-hot shower and thought it was going to be wonderful to get into bed and be stress free.
Harley was no longer being held by Ahmed, and the bad guys were all in police custody.
She wrapped a towel around herself, padded out of the bathroom, and poured herself a celebratory glass of wine.
She was on her way back to the bathroom to dry her hair when she heard the secret knock on her door.
She opened the door and looked out at Rafer. “What?” she said.
“Harley is in my room. I don’t want to sleep with Harley.”
“And?”
“And I want to sleep with you. Harley snores.”
“I find that hard to believe. Harley is perfect.” She looked Rafer up and down. “Where are your pajamas?”
“I wasn’t planning on wearing pajamas.”
“And I wasn’t planning on letting you in my bed… ever again.”
And this was true, but she’d been doing a little fantasizing about Rafer when she was soaping up in the shower, and now that he was standing in front of her, she was thinking he was looking damn good. Even better in real life than in the shower. And honestly, he’d been really hot in the shower.
“Okay then,” Rafer said. “Not a problem.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she said.
He kissed her on the cheek again. “Good night.”
She kissed him back on the cheek. “Good night.”
“I guess I’ll be going now,” he said.
“Uh-hunh.”
Time stood still for a couple beats, and what followed was a five-alarm fire.
Rafer pulled her close and kissed her. She curled her fingers into his shirt, pressed herself against him, and returned the kiss.
Tongues touched, hands were everywhere, her towel dropped to the floor, and she stripped the T-shirt off him.
He turned and closed and locked the door.
“Condoms,” Gabriela said.
Rafer pulled a wad of them out of his pants pocket.
“That might not be enough,” Gabriela said, working with his zipper.
“I have more in my other pocket.”
Gabriela woke up in a tangle of sheets and rumpled comforter. She was naked, and there was a man’s arm draped over her. Rafer’s arm.
Oh, dear God, she thought. What the hell!
The night was an all-too-clear memory. Sweaty and spectacular and wrong, wrong, wrong.
She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. She’d been stone-cold sober.
Now, in the bright light of day, she thought this was one of those moments when a girl just wants to snatch her undies up off the floor, stuff them into her purse, and sneak out of the room.
That wasn’t going to work because this was her room.
Rafer opened his eyes and looked at Gabriela. “G’morning.”
“G’morning,” Gabriela said. “About last night…”
Rafer smiled. “Yeah, it was great.”
“The thing is…”
Rafer got out of bed and kicked through the clothes on the floor, looking for his underwear. “It’s a shame the marriage didn’t work out.”
Omigod, Gabriela thought. What bad idea was this leading to! “I agree, but you don’t think we should get married again, do you?”
“Hell no,” Rafer said. “Do you?”
“Hell no!”
He stepped into his underwear, leaned over Gabriela, and kissed her on the top of her head. “Love you, Gabs.”
“Love you too,” Gabriela said.
He picked his pants up. “Hey, look at this. I still have a couple condoms.”