The Gray Ghost by Clive Cussler
76
Remi gripped her pistol, looking around for help, as Sam tried to restart the Ghost as it rolled to a stop in front of one of the many warehouses on the street. It was closed.
She aimed at Oren’s car, pulling up behind them. “Let’s hope he was serious about not shooting at the Ghost.”
“That won’t keep them from dragging us out of it,” Sam said.
“They’re going to have to get close enough to do it,” she replied, finger on the trigger.
Oren’s car suddenly slowed, tires screeching as the vehicle came to a stop, shifted into reverse, then started forward again, making a sudden left turn, engine roaring as it raced off.
“Police,” Sam said, as the smell of burnt rubber drifted toward them. He put his hand on her gun, pulling it down, out of sight.
Remi turned, saw a patrol car speeding toward them. “Just when things were starting to get fun,” she said, holstering her gun and pulling her jacket closed.
* * *
—
THE FIRST THING they did was call Selma with the news that they’d recovered the Gray Ghost. As soon as they finished giving their statements to the investigators at the police station, they called again with an update.
“Any word from Oliver and Chad?” Sam asked.
“About an hour ago, Mr. Fargo,” Selma replied. “Oliver was ecstatic to hear the news. They should reach Manchester this evening.”
“Good to hear. How’s the financial end of things looking?”
“We’re making progress. The FBI’s actually taking the case on, with their cybersecurity division helping to coordinate with the UK agencies.”
“I meant short-term,” Sam clarified, as he and Remi walked outside the station. “As in we’ll be lucky to have train fare to Payton Manor.”
“There should be a car waiting for you. A black Mercedes.”
He looked around the lot and saw the vehicle, which had been idling, was now headed toward them. “Love the efficiency, but how do we know he’s not one of Oren’s men?”
“Unless Oren managed to get to your personal banker, you should be in the clear. His nephew works in their London office. I think you met him at one of your fund-raisers last year.”
The Mercedes stopped a few feet away, and a short man, early forties, got out of the front seat, looking at them over the roof of the car. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. Good to see you again.”
Sam recognized Geoffrey Russell. “Efficient as ever, Selma. We’ll be in touch, once we hear from Oliver and Chad.”
Geoffrey smiled as he opened the car door for them. “I hope you’ll forgive my delay in getting here, but Miss Wondrash wanted to make sure that your crew was taken care of and the jet released. It’s still a tangled mess. A few last-minute details with the Italian government, but nothing to worry about. The only issue is, we’ll need to sit down, look over some legal documents, sign them, and—”
Sam’s cell phone buzzed. “Excuse me,” he said. “Oliver. You heard the news?”
“How soon can you get here?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“The private detective called. Something about Dex and the Ghost.”
“The Ghost? It’s safe. In police lockup.”
“Can you just get here? I don’t know how much time we have. I’m very worried. Trevor’s there, and—”
“Say no more. We’re on our way.” He disconnected, looking at Remi. “We need to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That issue with Allegra and her ex. It’s coming to a head.” He turned to Geoffrey. “I don’t suppose you could give us a lift to the train station?”
“But the papers. They’re at the office. Surely you can spare an hour to—”
“The papers have to wait.”
The man looked horrified. “You realize you’ll be losing tens of thousands of dollars? The interest alone is frightening.”
“Can’t be helped,” Sam said, patting his pockets. “Any chance you can loan us train fare?”
* * *
—
SAM AND REMI settled into their seats, as the train pulled away from the station. “I should’ve asked him for snack money,” Sam said.
“He bought us first-class tickets. It comes with a meal.”
“How long has it been since we’ve eaten? I doubt it’s going to be enough.” His phone rang. Chad was on the other end.
“Oliver wanted to make sure you’re on your way,” Chad said.
“Barring some unforeseen problem, we should be there in about two hours.” Sam moved closer to Remi, putting the phone between them so that she could hear. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
“Just that he’s beside himself after talking on the phone to the private detective,” Chad said, lowering his voice as though Oliver was nearby, “who’s confirmed the ex-husband is at the house. Poor chap. Worried about his sister and nephew, of course. We’re there now.”
“At Allegra’s?”
“At the solicitor’s. Waiting for Bill Snyder to come in and tell him exactly what’s going on. I thought I’d check in and let you know where we are, and that I’ll be ’round to pick you up when you arrive. I don’t think he’s in any condition to drive.”
“We’ll see you then,” Sam said.
“Should we call the police?” Remi asked, after he’d disconnected.
“Bill Snyder knows what he’s doing. If he thinks the police should be called, I doubt he’ll hesitate. Let’s wait to see what’s going on.”
“I hope we’re not too late.”
77
By the time Arthur Oren returned to his Manchester estate that evening, his temper had cooled significantly. It flared again when Colton walked into his office.
“I take it you weren’t successful in recovering the Ghost?” Colton asked.
“Are you trying to be funny?”
Colton took a seat, crossing his long legs, as he looked around the room. “Where’s the child?”
“With his mother.”
The man pulled out his cigarettes, tapping one from the pack. “What happened?” he asked, between puffs, as he lit it.
“The Fargos happened. Somehow they got into the warehouse. By the time I arrived, they were driving off in the Ghost.”
“And they’re still alive?”
“The police arrived or they wouldn’t be.”
Colton blew a stream of smoke to one side, his dark gaze holding Oren’s. “How’d they even know where it was?”
“I have no idea. But somehow they’ve managed to be a step ahead of me the entire time.”
“Is it possible someone’s been feeding them information?”
“I don’t know how.” But the idea bore merit. They’d managed to infiltrate Rossi’s villa and his office. “Unless, of course, Rossi lied about having mentioned the location of the warehouse.”
“What would that have to do with anything?”
Oren handed him the phone he’d found in Rossi’s office. “Can you have one of your men break into this thing?”
“It’s a prepaid phone. You won’t get anything off this.” He tossed the phone into the trash basket next to Oren’s desk. “Where’s the Ghost?”
“I have no idea. Would the police hold on to it?”
“I expect they’ll process it for prints and such.”
Oren wasn’t worried. His wouldn’t be found. He never had the chance to touch it.
“The bigger question is,” Colton said, “will they search it and find whatever it is you’re looking for? I don’t suppose you have any idea what it is yet, do you?”
“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“What makes you think they haven’t found it?”
“We would’ve heard something.”
“You?
Colton’s comment stirred the anger that had been festering in Oren’s gut ever since the Gray Ghost had been stolen from his warehouse. He’d been so close to having both the journal and the Ghost in his possession, only to have both taken from him in a matter of days. “Payton’s sister.”
“Allegra?”
“Yes. How is it she suddenly turned against us?”
“I’m not sure she was ever with us. And from what I understand, the solicitor the Fargos hired is now in possession of that book. His investigator confiscated it from her.”
“How do we get it back?”
“Carefully. Having the journal is one thing, interfering with a murder investigation quite another.”
“That’s the best you can do?” Oren said. Colton’s icy smile made him glad they were on the same side. The man wouldn’t hesitate to plunge a dagger in the heart of his own mother, if she stood in his way. Oren rose from his chair, walking to the window, looking out into the garden where a groundskeeper was clipping the hedge. “Considering that your men committed that murder, being worried about obstruction of justice seems the least of your problems.”
“Our problems,” Colton said, whispering in his ear.
How had Colton gotten so close without him noticing? Oren took a breath, keeping his focus out the window, acting as though Colton’s sudden proximity hadn’t disturbed him in the least. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that they’re conducting a murder investigation, and any attention directed toward us is dangerous. I’ve heard that Scotland Yard’s involved.”
“Why would—”
“The dead security guard from the London Motor Show. They did an autopsy and know the cause of death wasn’t due to the fire, as they’d originally thought.”
“What does that have to do with who investigates?”
“Since they don’t know where he died, they’ve decided that a mutual investigation is in order. Scotland Yard has more resources.”
It took a few seconds for Oren to process that information. “What do you think they’ll find?”
“If we’re careful, nothing.” Colton peered out the window, as though searching for whatever it was Oren had found so interesting. Eventually he turned back, but instead of taking his seat, he walked to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Oren asked.
“You said you wanted the journal. Albert Payton’s solicitor had it. Seems to me that if his client is being tried for murder, the Crown would want that as evidence. I intend to make that happen.”
“And what good will that do?”
Colton stopped by the door. “Two things. One, give us a chance to see it. Two, and more importantly, expose the Fargos.”
“How?”
“You know as well as I that they have that journal.”
“And you think they’re simply going to turn it over to you?”
Colton’s smile chilled him to the bone. “Allegra’s been the weak link in this. Time to pay her a visit. We pressure her. The rest falls into place.”
78
Remi was glad to see Chad waiting for them at the train station. “How is Oliver doing?” she asked him.
“A nervous wreck, pacing the floor when I left. He wasn’t happy about waiting at the detective’s office alone. Snyder said he’d come straightaway the moment his replacement arrives. In light of Dex’s call, he’s hesitant to leave Allegra’s house without someone watching it.”
Bill Snyder’s office, on the second floor of a brick building near the city center, was across the hall from the solicitor’s. When Oliver saw Sam and Remi walk in, he looked as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. “Thank heavens,” he said.
Remi drew him to one of the chairs, taking a seat next to him.
“You’re here now.”
“What happened?” Sam asked him, as Bill walked in.
“Dex left a voice mail at Payton Manor. Somehow he heard we’d recovered the Ghost and wants to trade the car for the goods,” Bill said.
“Right. The goods on who framed my uncle for murder. And now I need to figure out what to do.”
“Well, you’d better make the call,” Sam said.
Bill nodded. “If it’s something we can use, the sooner we discover what it is, the better. We can set up in the conference room and put it on the speakerphone.” He led them across the hall, where they all took seats around the large table.
“What should I say?” Oliver asked, as Bill placed the phone in front of him.
“First thing is find out if Allegra and Trevor are okay. We need to hear their voices, not just take his word for it.”
“Remember,” Sam added. “Be firm. Keep the pressure on him. Don’t let Dex order you around.”
“I won’t,” he said, his expression wary, as he made the call.
After it rang several times, a man picked up, saying, “Who’s this?”
“Is Allegra there? This is her brother.”
“Where are you calling from?”
Bill slipped his boss’s business card in front of him, tapping on it.
“The solicitor’s office,” Oliver said. “To find out the legalities of signing the car over, since it’s part of the estate. May I talk to Allegra?”
“She’s busy. You can talk to me.”
Sam mouthed, “Pressure.”
Oliver nodded. “Busy or not, put her on or our conversation is over.”
“Allegra!” Dex called. “Get over here and tell your brother you’re fine.”
A few seconds of silence, then Allegra saying, “I’m fine.”
“And Trevor?” Oliver asked.
“Trevor!” Dex shouted.
“What?” This voice came from farther away.
“It’s your uncle,” they heard Allegra say. “Talk to him.”
“What for?”
“Satisfied?” Dex said.
“Quite,” Oliver replied. “What’s this information you’re willing to trade for?”
“What you need to get Albert out of jail.”
When Bill made a rolling motion with his hand, Oliver nodded. “I need something a little more concrete or we don’t have a deal.”
“Your uncle didn’t kill the security guard found in the warehouse, a man named Colton did. It was ordered by Arthur Oren, to frame him.”
“What about the video evidence?” Oliver asked, reading Remi’s note.
“That was Bruno, dressed up like the old man.”
“Then where was my uncle at the time?”
“You’ll get that information, and all the other evidence, when I get the Gray Ghost. Bring the Ghost, paperwork signed, tonight. You get what you want—evidence. And I get what I want—the car. And I mean the real car, not some trumped-up fake like you tried to pass off on Frank and Bruno.”
“I’m waiting to meet with the solicitor,” Oliver said. “There are legal papers from the estate that limit what I can sign over. I— I’ll ring you as soon as I get the papers drawn up.”
“Tell you what,” Dex said. “I’ll ring you. Is this a good number?”
Bill nodded.
“Yes.”
“Tell them to hurry with the paperwork, before I change my mind.”
The line went dead.
“When can we get the car?” Oliver asked.
“We can’t,” Sam said. “The Ghost is in police lockup near London. It’s evidence in a murder case.”
Oliver’s face paled. “I just promised it to him. If he finds out it’s not—”
Bill stood, walked over to the watercooler and filled a cup, bringing it over to Oliver. “It’s not like we can just walk in and they’ll release the car. It could be tied up for w
Chad sat up, clapping his hand on the table. “What about the Faux Ghost? Do what we did with my mum?”
Sam shook his head. “Doubtful we could pull that off a second time. You heard what he said.”
“Quite right,” Oliver said. “Angering Dex isn’t a good idea. He’s prone to violence. I don’t know what he’ll do if he discovers we can’t get him the Ghost.”
“Actually,” Remi said, “if we can get a document that sounds legal, we won’t need the Ghost at all.” She looked at Sam and smiled. “Remember that time in Belize . . . ?”
79
What happened in Belize?” Bill asked Sam, after requesting the transfer of ownership document from his secretary.
“Remi went in the front door, distracted our target, while I went in the back and helped our friends escape.” Of course, that was an oversimplified version that ignored some of the more dangerous aspects of the event—something they didn’t need to go into right now.
Not that an investigator like Bill needed further explanation. He knew the inherent dangers and looked aghast as Sam’s words sank in. “You’re actually considering sending your wife into that house? You realize Dex is armed.”
“It worked before. And, to be fair, Remi’s armed, too.”
Bill turned to Oliver, perhaps hoping to find an ally. “You can’t be okay with this?”
“I’d rather no one had to go in,” Oliver said. “But after everything we’ve been through the last couple of weeks, I pity the poor man who gets in Remi’s way.”
When Bill looked at Chad, he immediately raised his hands. “Sorry, mate. I don’t think my vote counts.”
“Mine, either,” Bill said. “I’ll get the files.” He returned several minutes later with photographs of Allegra’s house and the neighborhood, as well as printed copies of a satellite map. As they were looking them over, his secretary returned, handed him a folder. “The amendment. In triplicate, as requested.”