The Final Cut (A Brit in the FBI 1)

Geneva, Switzerland

Sages Fidelité

Friday, early evening

Sages Fidelité was not a bank, it was simply a small building with a counter separating the foyer from three walls of floor-to-ceiling safe-deposit boxes. Mike and Nicholas burst in the door at a run, and the attendant behind the counter jumped to his feet and threw his hands in the air. He looked so scared Mike had to bite back a laugh. This was going to go better than it had at Bank Horim.

The boy was the assistant manager, a gawky youth who didn’t look old enough to shave. Tomas was his name, and he was happy to share all he knew, though, alas, it wasn’t much.

He looked at the picture and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, she came in this afternoon and rented a box. She paid up front, the nonresident of Switzerland rate, for two years. Then she put something in the box and left.”

“Let us into the box.”

The wide Adam’s apple bobbed. “Without her key, there is no way to open it.”

Nicholas banged his fist on the counter. “Find a bloody blowtorch, then. Get the box open, right now. And let us see the paperwork.”

The kid knew a serious man when he saw one. “No, no, don’t do that. I have a master key. We’re not allowed to use it, though; it’s only for emergencies.”

Mike touched her fingers to her Glock. “This is an emergency. Open the box.”

The boy swallowed and handed over the paperwork, then ran into the back for his master key.

Mike said, “This place isn’t very secure.”

“If it were one of the banks, this would never happen. They’d have to drill the lock out. There’s no guarantee of safety in a place like this.” He looked down at the paperwork. “Cheeky girl—she rented the box in the name Duleep Singh.”

Mike asked, “Duleep Singh? The last rightful owner of the Koh-i-Noor, before it was handed over to the British, right?”

“Yes. She’s playing games with us.”

The boy came back with the master key, opened the lock of the safe-deposit box, and quickly stepped back. Nicholas pulled the gray plastic box from the wall.

It was light. His heart began to pound. Was this it? Had they found the Koh-i-Noor?

Without waiting to set it on a table, he opened the box. There was only a piece of paper inside.

“I’d hoped it was the diamond. No such luck.”

He pulled out the paper. There was a list of numbers. No rhyme or reason to them that he could see.

“What is it?”

Mike took the paper from him and studied it. “Bank accounts. They’re consistent, each with thirteen numbers. Numbered accounts. We better let Savich throw this into the mix.”

“What’s that written on the back?”

She flipped the paper. Written in an elegant cursive were eight words. This is all you get. Leave me alone.

Mike said, “Do you think this is directed at us, or to someone else?”

Nicholas looked down at the message. “It has to be someone else, since she shouldn’t know we’re here. But we’re a step closer.”

He saw the young man watching them warily.

Nicholas dropped the box and crossed the floor in three steps, grabbed the boy’s collar, and jerked him up on his toes, got right in his face. “What else did she do while she was he

re?”