Kitsune buried her face in her hands. She felt hollowed out with failure.
She’d bested the father. Somehow she would best the son. She had to regain the upper hand. Lanighan was mad if he thought she would now hand the diamond over in person—he’d kill her without hesitation, and Mulvaney as well. She patted her backpack. The diamond was safe. Now she had to find out where he was holding Mulvaney, and end this.
She put the Fiat in gear and got back on the road, thinking furiously.
This was not the first attempted double-cross she’d faced. But it was the first time a job had ruptured into her real life. Again, she couldn’t believe Lanighan had managed to find and take Mulvaney. He was the most careful man she’d ever known.
They’d worked together for more than half her life, more than twenty years now, and never been linked. Anyone who knew their names saw them only as rivals, and she and Mulvaney had laughed, toasting each other with the Krug he so loved to drink. Tears stung her eyes. She was afraid, not for herself, but for him. Had she done something to allow this to happen? Or maybe she’d been na?ve, trusting their measures were infallible? It didn’t matter now. She had to stop Lanighan, had to, no choice.
She wanted to kill him, she wanted to feel the point of her blade sink into the thin flesh of his throat. She wanted to watch him realize he was dead.
A righteous killing, but first she had to figure her way through this.
Think, Kitsune.
Lanighan had driven from Paris to Geneva so there would be no record of his face at the airports or train stations while this hubbub about the diamond raged on in the news. His car would have been searched at the border, which meant Lanighan hadn’t held Mulvaney in Geneva.
Where, then?
In Paris. Lanighan’s empire was run out of the City of Light. His first and only meeting with her had been at the Paris Ritz. Before their first meeting, she’d done a property records search. Lanighan had four private holdings where a covert operation could take place. Mulvaney was surely being held at one of them. She needed more information.
Saleem Lanighan was not the man his father was. He was arrogant and sloppy and cared only what happened to himself. He thought money solved everything. Nor was he comfortable operating far away from his base, which meant he kept precious possessions close. And at this point, Mulvaney was precious.
79
Ritz Paris
15 Place Vend?me
Saturday, early evening
Nicholas’s computer chimed. He opened the secure teleconference, and Savich’s face popped up on the screen. Mike recognized the furniture from the FBI’s conference room, which meant they were on the CIVITS secure videoconference network. They could say anything without worry of eavesdropping. Even the screens were pulled on the picture windows—they could see out, but no prying eyes could see in.
Nicholas said, “Hello, Savich. Good timing.”
“You have Mike now?”
Nicholas shifted so Mike’s face appeared over his shoulder. “She’s right here.”
“Hi, Dillon.”
“Hey, Mike. I’ve been at it all morning with MAX, and here’s what I’ve found. The numbers you sent were wire transfers for a variety of banks. I’ve emailed the file to you, Nicholas; you should have it now.”
“I have it open.”
“All right. I didn’t find all the money yet, but I narrowed down three possible buyers for the stone. As you guys know, the banks are hard to crack; numbered accounts are the best way to stay under the radar when you’re moving large amounts of money. It’s not like anyone will funnel millions of dollars through Western Union.”
Nicholas laughed. “Life would be so much easier.”