“It was easy as hell to spend ten thousand on a tech at the evidence center to look the other way while I took the diamonds and substituted junk. Then sprinkle some bread crumbs to throw suspicion on another agent. I was surprised they discovered it missing, but by that time it was with the Russians and headed to Phoenix.”
“Why didn’t you just take them?”
“And do what?” He looked like he wanted to spit. “Cut glass? The Russians had the means to move them here. They already owed me.”
“Not a fifty-fifty split?”
Mann grinned grimly. “Not even close. But they had a fence here who could turn the rough into real money.”
“Offshore account?” Peralta asked. “Or will you piss it away on your gambling habit? I’m surprised the Bureau didn’t know about that.”
Mann licked his lips. He was starting to get rattled. “It will be a nice supplement to my pension. Officially, the rough will never be recovered. When we find your and Mapstone’s bodies, I’ll theorize that one of the cartels got to you first and took the diamonds. I can’t fix everything for the Bureau. I can finish out my career as SAC in Phoenix and spend half my time on the golf course. Maybe play some poker, too, asshole. Losing the diamonds has been a huge embarrassment. The Bureau will want to move on.”
“Where are your agents?”
“Working,” Mann said. “It’s my day off. Figured I’d follow your boy and he’d lead me to you. Where are they?”
Peralta didn’t answer. The room pulsed with the gravitational pulls of two big men. Mann scanned the room, ignored the socks.
“Why did you kill Mapstone?” he said. “I thought he was your friend.”
Peralta shrugged. “He brought me the rough. That’s all I needed.”
In the dim light, I could see the confusion course through the veins on Mann’s high forehead.
“What are you talking about?”
“I handed off the diamonds back in Phoenix,” Peralta said. “Did you think I was going to keep them on me? That would have made it too easy for you. You’re playing in the big leagues now.”
“I’m here now.” He stepped closer. Now he was about five feet from Peralta. He kept the gun on him.
Peralta said, “They’re on the floor beside you, in those socks.”
Mann quickly glanced to his left then refocused on Peralta. Five long seconds passed and he couldn’t resist. He backed up to the wall and knelt down, feeling through the fabric of the socks with his left hand. He lifted one and gave an ugly smile.
“That’s sweet. All that money inside a three-dollar pair of socks.” He stood. “I sure don’t like it that I can’t see your hands.”
Peralta didn’t answer.
“I said, I don’t like it that I can’t see your hands.” His tone was commanding.
“My hands are cold,” Peralta said. “What makes you think you’re going to get away with this?”
Mann moved forward again, gun at Peralta’s middle.
“What makes me think I’m going to get away with it? I have so far.”
“What about the Mountie?”
Mann looked confused.
“Those are the Mountie’s stones,” Peralta said. “She still wants them. Made me a promise to kill everybody I loved until I turned them over. Probably willing to kill the ones I dislike, too. She’s not willing to move on.”
He cursed under his breath. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but I’d say the Mountie’s out of luck. And so are you. You’re a fugitive and if I shoot you where you sit, nobody’s going to ask questions.” His voice turned to a shout. “Now show me your hands!”
The blanket fell away and Peralta had his .40 caliber Glock trained on Mann.
“Now, hold on there,” Mann said. “I’m a federal agent.”