Chapter 34

The executive airport complex is easy to find your way around if you've been there before. It's less straightforward for first timers because the buildings all look basically the same. They're lined up along one side of the runway and their individual signs are small and use the same font and colors due to some local regulation.

Vidic used the fact to his advantage. He gave his cabdriver the address for the building next to the one he wanted and as the guy crept along looking for street numbers, Vidic checked the parked cars and trucks for anyone keeping watch on the place. He only spotted one he was suspicious of. A panel van with a business name stenciled on the side: Crabtree and Watson Landscape Contractors. He googled and found a website with the same name, but it felt a little generic to him. More like a placeholder than a real resource. He was happy about that. Assembling 720 gold bars in one place was the kind of thing that drew attention. That was to be expected. A couple of agents keeping an eye open was fine. A heavier presence would have been more worrying.

Vidic stood in the shadows of the next hangar in line and waited for a suitable vehicle to come by. It was hot and humid outside of the cab's air-conditioning and his shirt was soon sticking to his back. A UPS van trundled into sight after a couple of minutes. He broke cover and kept pace with it, using its bulk to shield him from the landscaping van, and made it to the right hangar unseen.

The building was divided into two sections. The left-hand part was smaller. About an eighth of the overall floorspace. It was a combined reception and waiting area. There was a desk immediately inside the door where all the check-in and destination paperwork was taken care of. Beyond that were three discreet seating areas, each with eight chairs, so that passengers could be grouped together by flight. And at the back there was a self-serve bar with coffee, tea, andsnacks.

Vidic smiled at the woman who was on duty at the desk and handed her a driver's license. He said, "Hi. John Austin. I'm here to check on a freight consignment."

The woman checked the ID, looked up a record on her computer, then got to her feet. She passed the license back, took a bunch of keys from a drawer, and said, "Follow me, please."

She led the way through a door in the right-hand wall into the hangar itself. A large scale was set up for weighing cargo, and behind that a plane was standing with its engine cowling removed for maintenance. The section Vidic was interested in was behind the plane, along the far wall. There was a line of mesh cages for securing freight that was awaiting transport or collection. Eight, altogether. Three were empty. He scanned the others as he approached. He identified the one that must be his. The one with thirty wooden crates, seven inches deep by five inches wide by six inches tall. Small, but heavy. Vidic knew they would weigh more than fifty pounds each.

The woman unlocked the padlock holding the cage door closed and said, "Take your time. Lock it when you're done."

Vidic waited until the woman had left the hangar and crossed to a toolbox on wheels near the front of the plane. He took a screwdriver and went back to the cage. He opened the door and used the screwdriver to lever the lid off the nearest crate. He brushed back the packing straw and couldn't keep himself from grinning.

Gold. Universal. Indestructible. Eternal. Twenty-four bars per box. Seventy-eight thousand dollars per bar at current rates. Now all he had to do was move it before the untrustworthy bastards he'd sold the Cone Dynamics report to decided to double-cross him and take their assets back. He took one of the bars from the crate, replaced the lid, worked the lock, and went back to the reception area. He said to the woman, "Is Mr. McLeod available?"

She said, "He's around somewhere. Outside, checking on one of the planes, probably. Take a seat. I'll find him for you."

—

Andrew McLeod was a short, squat man in his thirties who still hadn't learned that as the manager of the operation he was supposed to delegate. He appeared in the hangar doorway five minutes later. He was wearing coveralls rolled down to the waist with the sleeves hanging loose and a white shirt with a tie poked through between two buttons.

Vidic followed him to the cargo area so that they could talk in private. He nodded toward the cage full of crates and said, "I need all those gone inside of thirty minutes."

McLeod said, "No can do. Sorry. They weigh, what? Sixteen hundred pounds? Can't add them to another load, and I don't have a spare plane to take them on their own."

"Are you sure?" Vidic pulled the gold bar out of his pocket.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a new Porsche, then yes."

McLeod was silent for a moment, then said, "Any passengers?"

Vidic said, "Three."

"How much do you all weigh?"

"Two hundred. One thirty, maybe. And around three hundred."

"OK. I can make that work. Where to?"

"The Bahamas. Andros Island."

"Fresh Creek?"

"No. I'll give you the coordinates. It's a new strip. Private. You won't find it on any maps."

"Good deal."

"There's one other thing. I want you to send your receptionist home, right away."

"Why? What did she do wrong?"

"Nothing. She seems like a good person. One of my crew isn't. She doesn't need to be exposed to that."

"If your guy's such an asshole, why do you hang around with him?"

"Call it a marriage of convenience. One that's not going to last very long."

—

When Vidic texted the hangar's address to Kane and Paris, he told them to take the kind of precautions he had, because the place was being watched. Kane did not do that. He got out of the cab, crossed the street, and knocked on the rear door of the landscaping van. He got no response so he took hold of the handle and wrenched the door open. Two guys were inside, sitting at a console with cameras hooked up to computer monitors and microphones feeding compact speakers. They were in their mid-thirties, wearing shirts, ties, and shoulder holsters. They both went for their guns, but they weren't fast enough. Kane shot them both in the head with a silenced .22.

Kane walked into the hangar and crossed straight to the cargo cage. He looked in at the wooden crates and said, "That's $56 million? I thought it would be bigger."

Paris stopped in front of Vidic. She put her hand on his chest and said, "Everything went OK?"

Vidic said, "Like clockwork. We're just waiting for the pilot to switch over one of the planes. We should be loading in ten minutes. Out of here in twenty. It would speed things up if we could drag those crates over to the door. I tried, but they're crazy heavy." He turned to Kane. "Mind giving me a hand?"

Kane shrugged.

Vidic moved to the side of the cage door and waited for Kane to move.

Kane didn't move. He said, "So let me guess. Vidic, you make like you're going to push. I pull. I don't get anywhere because these damn things must weigh a ton, but while I'm giving it the good ol' college try, Paris whips out her little Walther and pops a .38 behind my ear?"

Paris pulled her PPK out of her purse and said, "That's pretty much what we were thinking, yeah. But if you'd rather take it straight in the face, that's fine, too." She raised the gun and lined it up on the bridge of Kane's nose.

Kane said, "If today's my day to go, then so be it. But maybe hold that thought for a second. Wait till you have all the facts."

"I have all the facts I need. I pull the trigger, the world has one fewer asshole in it, and I'm nine million dollars richer. Am I missing anything?"

"Only that your boyfriend is an FBI agent."

Paris lowered the gun. "Wait. What? I don't have a boyfriend. Who's an agent?"

Kane stepped to the side. "Vidic."

Vidic reached for his gun, but he didn't have it. He'd come directly from the airport. So he said, "Paris, shoot him already."

Kane said, "Notice he's not denying it."

Vidic said, "Of course I'm not denying it. It's a joke. You're just desperate to save your own miserable skin. You'd say anything."

Paris raised her gun and pointed it at Kane. Then she lowered it again. She said, "I want proof. You have thirty seconds."

Vidic said, "This is ridiculous. Gibson was the agent. We all know that."

Kane said, "Gibson was on board way before you. How could he have been an undercover agent so long and not have done anything?"

Vidic said, "Not an agent, then. An informer. Whatever they call it. He flipped. Wanted out, did a deal."

Kane shook his head. "I knew Gibson. He was no rat. But you?"

Vidic took a step toward him. "I'm no rat."

Kane said, "You know what they say. If you're explaining, you're losing."

Paris said, "Stop this. I want proof. Not insults."

Kane said, "Ask your boyfriend how he was able to set this deal up so fast."

Paris said, "He's not my boyfriend."

Vidic said, "Easy. I have connections."

Kane said, "What kind of connections? You deal with fences. Fences sell art. Not nuclear secrets."

Vidic said, "Right. Fences sell art. And they know people who sell all kinds of other things. Including secrets. Like I said, it all comes down to connections."

"Connections, like foreign spies?"

"Any kind of connections."

"Warhol one day, warheads the next? I call bullshit."

Paris put the gun in her purse and walked up to Vidic. She said, "Ivan, look me in the eye. Tell me it's not true."

Vidic said, "It's not true." Then he looked away.

"Liar!" Paris slapped him across the face. "What happens next? A bunch of agents kick the doors in and drag us off to jail? Or will they wait till we're in the Bahamas? Where it'll be easier for us to get shot resisting arrest."

"Nothing like that."

Paris didn't reply. She couldn't bear to look at him.

Vidic said, "OK. I was an agent."

Kane said, "You still are an agent."

"Actually, no. As far as the Bureau is concerned, I'm dead."

Paris said, "That's why you wanted the phosphorus. So they'd think Gibson's ashes were yours. And you tricked me into helping you. This situation just keeps getting better."

"Look, does any of that matter? We're here. The gold is here. We did that together. Let's not throw it away over some stupid—"

"It's not stupid—"

A red dot appeared on Vidic's forehead and the next instant the back of his skull was torn off. The cage next to theirs was sprayed with blood and brain. Then Paris heard the sound. A gunshot. She spun around and saw Kane holding his .22.

Kane said, "There's your extra nine million. I never liked Vidic. But you? I can see a future for us. On the island. On the beach. In the bedroom…"

"I'd rather eat crushed glass."

"You'll come around." Kane took out his phone and took a picture of Vidic's body. "An FBI agent selling nuclear secrets? It's the ultimate Get Out of Jail Free card. Go find a container. A jar or something. We need his blood. His DNA. Find something with today's date. And get me his phone."

Paris picked up Vidic's phone, handed it to Kane, turned, and started toward the reception area.

"Paris?"

She stopped. "What?"

"Your Walther. Drop it and kick it away."