Dead in a Week (Forensic Instincts 7)

Sloshing through a patch of wet snow, Ryan walked about halfway down the street and then stopped at the lackluster building that was lost amid the skyscrapers surrounding it. Clearly, this particular structure was an “original” and pre-dated World War II with only the most bare-bones of renovations. And what was waiting for Ryan inside was a real shithole.

He nodded at the security guard, giving him a fuck-you look that said, I belong here.

No questions were asked.

Ryan then took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, exited, and walked purposefully down the narrow hallway, stopping when he reached 1407.

He glanced up at the security camera and pressed the buzzer.

He got his return buzz, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The outer door closed behind him, leaving him wedged between it and an inner door. A second buzzer went off. Ryan leaned against the inner door, gaining entry into the small dungeon that served as the jewelry maker’s workshop. Given the value of the merchandise he handled, the owner made sure that no one was allowed in without him knowing them by sight.

Ryan was greeted by the usual stench of cigarette smoke, stale air, and the acrid smell of solder and flux. Piles of clutter were everywhere, and in the middle of the chaos stood a big, broken-down piece of furniture that resembled a cobbler’s workbench. Behind the workbench sat the scariest-looking motherfucker Ryan had ever met. He was built like a brick shithouse, tattooed in every visible spot, with arms the size of tree trunks and a scarred face that would scare a kid at Halloween.

“Yeah, Ryan, what’s so urgent that you woke me up at four in the morning? What do you need now?” Henry Lago didn’t look up. He was peering at a large diamond through a jeweler’s loupe.

“Hi to you, too, Lago,” Ryan replied. “And I need a ring.”

Henry sneered. “Getting engaged?”

“Nope. Getting creative.”

That piqued Henry’s interest. He glanced up, levelling his bloodshot stare at Ryan. “I’m listening.”

“Thought you might be.” Ryan warmed to his subject. He and Henry were dead alike in that they both loved a challenge. “I need a man’s school ring, size nine.”

“Any school in particular? Going straight for the top ten? Been there, done that. So have you. Not worth the money or the bullshit.”

Ryan nodded. Another thing he and Henry had in common. Ryan had spent a couple of years at MIT before he decided he needed the freedom to fly on his own. Henry had spent less than a year there, realizing right away that his level of electronic genius was wasted in school.

The two guys had briefly crossed paths. It was enough to make Henry one of Ryan’s favorite contacts when his role at Forensic Instincts required it. Henry was equally charged by their alliance—although his favorite jab was that he was the real deal, and that Ryan’s success was rooted in the fact that he came across as a chick magnet. Ryan countered that Henry’s claim to fame was that he came off like a mass murderer.

Two egotistical geniuses. It was a partnership made in heaven.

“Let’s flip the bird to the Ivies and the Little Ivies,” Ryan replied. “Actually, I don’t really care what school you choose, as long as it doesn’t have a diamond or anything else transparent as its gemstone. Because a dark stone is what I need in the center of the ring.”

Henry yawned. “Uh-huh. What goes with it?”

“A camera, for starters. I need you to plant one behind the stone. Also, somewhere in the ring you need to bury a flash memory. And there needs to be a capacitor that’s charged by induction. We’ll be using a wireless cell phone charger. I need the image capture to be triggered by a finger placed across two spots on the ring. And since the user has no way to frame the picture, I need control logic inside to detect the edges of the paper and capture the content within. It has to capture a full-size engineering drawing from a distance of three feet.” Ryan raised his brows, although he knew his answer even as he asked the question. “Can you do it?”

“If you can think of it, I can do it—only better.”

“I need it in four hours.”

“Then it’ll cost you four times the usual.”

“Done.” Ryan didn’t flinch. Hey, it was Aidan’s money. And Terri had given him carte blanche. “I’ll be back at one thirty.”

“Bring the cash.”

“Do the job.”

NanoUSA

27 February

Tuesday, 7:35 a.m. local time

Simone began her one-on-one morning meetings even before Vance’s plane had landed from Lake Tahoe. Per her request, she’d been set up in a small meeting room, with only a round cherrywood table and a few matching chairs set up beside it, together with a sideboard containing a Keurig brewing station, a tray of fruit, and the appropriate plates and silverware. This setup had to be as non-threatening an environment as possible, given the delicacy of the situation. Despite Vance’s reassurance, most of these employees would be geared up to protect their jobs. And Simone needed them to relax so she could accomplish what she was really here to do.