The Collectors (Camel Club 2)

He glanced at Annabelle. “And even though you saw him, it’s your word against his. And I didn’t call the police about what happened at Fire Control, Inc., because I felt sure by the time they got there, the two men I attacked would’ve disappeared.” He looked at Caleb. “And since Caleb was at Jewell English’s home and his prints might be found there, if we go to the police, he’ll instantly become a suspect. Couple that with the fact that the authorities already have Caleb and Reuben on their radar, it’s all far too complicated for the police to believe.”

“Well, hell,” was R

euben’s sole comment to that analysis.

Annabelle said, “So what do we do? Wait for them to come after us again?”

Stone shook his head. “No. Caleb will go to work tomorrow as if nothing’s happened. The library will be in an uproar having lost a director and a patron in such a short time. Caleb, find out what you can. The news will give us some hint as to what the police think. And if they’ve killed English too, the body might turn up.”

Milton said, “I’ll keep my eye peeled on the Net for any of that. That’s where it’ll break first.”

Stone continued, “Bob Bradley, Jonathan DeHaven, Cornelius Behan and now Norman Janklow have been murdered. I believe Bradley died because he was forcing Albert Trent to leave the intelligence committee staff. Trent couldn’t do that, because if I’m right, Trent was using that position to pass secrets. DeHaven was killed either because he was involved in the reading room being used to convey these stolen secrets or he stumbled on the scheme and had to be silenced. That might be the same for Norman Janklow, or else he was also a spy like English. Behan was killed because he figured out that one of his companies’ equipment was used to murder DeHaven and would no doubt have investigated further. Trent had a mole at Fire Control who probably tipped him off about Behan’s suspicions, and he had to be eliminated.”

Caleb said, “But how could Jonathan, Jewell English or Norman Janklow become involved in a spy ring? Who would think to use the Rare Books reading room to communicate stolen secrets through coded letters in the first place?”

Stone said, “Well, because one wouldn’t logically think of it makes it a good plan. And remember, most spies are captured because they’re placed under surveillance for some reason, and then they’re observed making the drop of information, usually in a public place. Instead, we have coded letters in rare books. There’s no surveillance possible. Old people read old books and go home. No one would even consider them remotely suspicious.”

Caleb said, “But you still have to get the secrets Trent was presumably stealing to the library somehow. It wasn’t Albert Trent highlighting those letters in the books. And Jonathan couldn’t have done it in the Beadle we took from the library. He was dead by then.”

“Agreed. And that’s the part we still have to figure out. In fact, that’s the most important part, because it’s our main hope of solving this case. If Janklow, English or DeHaven were spies, there has to be some evidence of that.”

Milton said, “We’ve already searched DeHaven’s house and found nothing.”

“And I looked through Jewell’s,” Caleb said, “and only found a dead body.”

Stone nodded. “Perhaps Norman Janklow’s home may yield some results.”

Reuben interjected, “The only problem with that is the police will be crawling all over it now. Same with English’s place.”

Stone said, “Things are getting very dangerous now, and we all have to be extremely careful. I suggest that we double up from now on. Milton and Caleb, you two can stay at Milton’s house; it has a very good security system. Reuben, you and I can stay at your place, since certain people already know where I live.” He looked at Annabelle. “You can stay with us too.”

Reuben looked hopeful. “My shack’s not much to look at, but I’ve got plenty of beer, chips and a wide-screen plasma. And I do a mean chili. On the protection side, I’ve got one nasty pit bull named Delta Dawn, who’ll take a bite out of anyone I tell her to.”

“I think I’ll stick to my hotel. But I’ll watch out for myself, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Stone said.

“I’m sure. But thanks for the offer. I’m really more of a loner, actually. That’s how I prefer it,” she added, averting her gaze from Stone.

As the meeting broke up, Stone stopped Annabelle on the way out.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be? Just another day in the life.”

“Almost being killed isn’t such a normal thing.”

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.”

“Okay, are you game for another run at Albert Trent?” She hesitated. “I don’t mean breaking into his house again. I mean tailing him.”

“You think he’s still around?” she said.

Stone nodded. “They have no idea really what we know or don’t know. My guess is they’ll maintain the status quo until conditions dictate otherwise. If he skips town now, it’s all over. If this is a spy ring, they might want to see if things can be salvaged. These people have obviously worked hard to put it together.”

“These people don’t play around, do they?”

“Neither do I,” Stone replied.

Roger Seagraves was a very unhappy man. While Janklow had been sacrificed to muddy the waters and silence a potential witness, English was in a secure place far away from D.C. Yet because she’d allowed her glasses to be taken and their operation blown, Seagraves didn’t see her remaining alive for long. That was the good news. The bad news was Oliver Stone and the woman had escaped, costing him two men in the process. The Triple Six had somehow managed to beat the death chamber and smash their skulls in. That was impressive, especially for a guy who must be sixty by now. Seagraves chastised himself for not killing the man when he had the chance. He had cleaned up the bodies at Fire Control, but the police were all over Jewell English’s place. Fortunately, she had kept nothing incriminating at her home, and the same for Janklow. However, Seagraves’ perfect scheme was ruined.

Now he only had one goal. To go right to the source and end it once and for all.

From the small table next to him, he picked up Stone’s old shirt and the watch taken from Annabelle. Seagraves promised himself that these items would still become part of his collection.

CHAPTER 60

HE WOKE, STRETCHED, TURNED over and gazed out the window. The weather today was just like it had been yesterday. Sunny and beautiful with an ocean breeze apparently designed solely to inspire contentment in all it touched. He got up, wrapped a sheet around his waist and strolled to the window. Situated on several acres of land that included a sandy beach pounded by the ocean, the villa was his, at least for a year, the length of the lease, but he was thinking about buying it outright. The isolated estate boasted a saltwater infinity swimming pool, a wine cellar, a tennis court and a cabana with a daybed that was useful for more than drying out after a dip, for he seldom swam alone or with a bathing suit on. In the two-car garage sat a Maserati coupé and a Ducati for his driving pleasure. A cook, maid and gardener came with the place for less money than he’d paid in condo fees back in L.A. He drew a deep breath and knew he could spend the rest of his life here.

He hadn’t exactly followed Annabelle’s instructions about not flashing the cash, but this place had been immediately available for someone with the money. He’d actually seen the listing on the Internet before they’d done the scam but after Annabelle had told them they stood to make millions. It was never too early to plan for such a large purchase. And once he had leased the house, he had to have the toys that went with it. He wasn’t worried about Bagger finding him. The guy had never even seen him. And there were lots of rich, young people around this part of the world. He was cool. In fact, he was great.

Tony heard her coming up the stone stairs and retreated back to his bed, letting the sheet fall away. When she opened the door, he saw that she carried a tray with his breakfast only. It was funny; she’d slept with him after the second night but wouldn’t eat breakfast with him. It probably had to do with her being the maid.

“Dos huevos, jugo de naranja, tostada y café con leche,” she said. Her Spanish accent was pleasantly lyrical.

“And you.” He smiled, pulling her to him after she had set the tray down on the table next to the bed. She kissed him on the lips and let him slip off her strapless nightie, which was all she happened to be wearing. He traced the finely developed muscles in her long brown neck, stroked her large breasts, moved his hand down her flat belly and t

hen went lower still.

“Tu no tienes hambre?” she cooed, rubbing her bare leg against his and nuzzling his neck with her lips.

“Hambre for you,” he said, nibbling her ear.

He scooted around and let her fall back on the bed. He took one of her shapely legs in each of his arms and stood poised between her thighs. She licked her fingers and then squeezed her breasts.

“Damn, you drive me loco, Carmela!” he said.

She lunged forward, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down on her.

The door smashing back against the wall made the couple forget about screwing before breakfast.

Four big men came in, trailed by a smaller broad-shouldered fellow wearing a two-piece suit and open-collared shirt and sporting a devilish look of triumph.

Jerry Bagger said, “Hey, Tony, nice place you got here. I really like it. It’s amazing what you can buy with someone else’s money, ain’t it?”

He sat down on the bed as the terrified Carmela tried to cover herself with the sheet.

“Hey, honey, you don’t have to do that,” Bagger said. “You’re really pretty, how do you say, bonita! That’s right. Muy bonita, bitch.” He motioned to one of his men. This gent picked up Carmela, carried her over to the open window and tossed the lady out.

They all listened to one long scream and then a thud.