Chapter 22

The delivery van driver slammed on the brakes and stared at the sight ahead.

"Oh, shit," his coworker said from the passenger seat.

A wall of fire filled the road, a few dozen feet in front of them.

"Back up, back up!"

That snapped the driver out of his daze. He reached for the shifter, but before he could put it into reverse, someone knocked on his window.

Standing outside was a man in a uniform and face mask, just like the guy who had sent them down this road.

The man motioned for the driver to roll down his window. He did so.

"You can't come this way," the man said.

"I see that. I'm going to turn around."

"Can't go that way, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

Without any other warning, the man brought up a small canister and sprayed its contents into the cab.

Within seconds, both deliverymen were unconscious.

By the time Benji reached the van, Devin and Sticks had subdued the men inside, and Devin searched the driver for keys.

Benji glanced at the still burning barrier, then said to Sticks, "You want to take care of that before it becomes a problem?"

"I don't see why. It'll probably burn itself out."

That is not what it looked like to Benji. In fact, it appeared to him that it was just moments away from jumping to the dry vegetation beside the road.

"Take care of it," Benji snapped. Starting a major blaze was not part of the plan.

"Fine. Waste of a good fire, if you ask me."

Sticks walked off with one of their fire extinguishers.

Devin backed out of the cab, holding a set of keys. "Found 'em."

"Give them to me, then go help Sticks. I'll take care of this."

Devin tossed him the keys, then grabbed the other extinguisher and jogged toward the fire.

Benji opened the back of the van and grinned. A picture-shaped item covered in protective wrapping was strapped against the side of the van.

He cut through the restraints, slit open the Bubble Wrap, then peeled back the plastic and confirmed it was the correct painting. He took a photo of it and sent it to Simon with the message: Bingo.

After transferring the painting to the trunk of the sedan, he keyed the walkie. "You guys done yet?"

"I think so," Devin replied.

"Sticks?"

"Yeah, good enough."

"Then let's get out of here while our luck's holding."

The delivery van was overdue, and Teddy didn't like it.

He called June Marnell, his contact at the auction house.

"Good, Mr. Barnett. I was just going to call and check how the delivery went."

"Exactly the reason I'm calling you. It has not happened at all."

"I'm sorry?"

"The van has yet to arrive."

"That's odd. I should have been notified if they were running late. Can you hold for a moment? I'll check on their status."

"I can."

She was away for longer than he had expected. When she came back on, her earlier cheery disposition had vanished. "It appears something has happened."

"What kind of something?"

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you because we don't know. GPS tracking puts the van three-quarters of a mile from your home, and it's not moving."

"You've tried calling them?"

"Yes, but no one answers. Our delivery manager thinks they might have a mechanical problem and are in an area with spotty cell coverage. Someone has been sent up to check on them, and I'm told they should be there in twenty minutes. I do apologize for the delay. I'll let you know the revised delivery time as soon as I—"

"Where exactly are they? If they're that close, I can be there in a couple minutes."

"There's no need for you to do that."

"It would ease my mind to confirm your delivery manager's theory."

"Oh, well…Hold for a moment. Let me get that."

Teddy was already heading toward the front door. On the way, he stopped at his vintage stereo console cabinet, flipped open the record player compartment, and pressed down on the speed control selector for three seconds. A panel covering one of the speakers swung out like a door. Inside was a speaker a quarter the size of the original 1950s era version, and a Smith Wesson 9mm pistol, two extra magazines, and an attachable silencer. He grabbed everything but the speaker and raced to his Porsche.

As he was slipping into the driver's seat, June came back on the line. "I can give you an approximate address."

"If it's not too much trouble, could you text that to me?"

"Of course. Right away."

"Thank you, June."

The Porsche rumbled to life, and he swung it around the driveway to the street. A check of his phone confirmed the text had arrived.

It took seven minutes to reach the turn onto the road the van was supposedly on. While he didn't immediately see it because of a bend in the road ahead, thanks to the top being down on his roadster, he did smell the one thing that no one who lived in the hills ever wanted to smell.

Smoke.

He slowed as he took the bend, then screeched to a stop, barely keeping from ramming into the back of the delivery van.

The van was sitting in the middle of the lane, its back doors wide open and its cargo area empty.

But Teddy had no time to even think about that, because approximately thirty feet on the other side of the van, at least three trees and several bushes were on fire.

He dialed 911 as he hopped out of his car and ran up to the van's cab. Two men were inside, both either unconscious or dead.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"There's a brushfire," he said. "Hollywood Hills, not far off Mulholland." He relayed his exact location.

"And your name?"

"Billy Barnett. There are also two men unconscious in a van nearby. I need to get them away before the flames reach them. I'll take them to my house."

"You live nearby?"

"Yes." He gave her his address. "Please hurry. There are a lot of homes up here."

He hung up without giving her a chance to ask another question.

His first thought was to take the van, as his Porsche did not have a back seat, but he couldn't find the key. While it would be a squeeze, the roadster would have to do.

He manhandled the driver out of his seat and was relieved to find that the guy was still breathing. He placed him as carefully as possible in the Porsche's front passenger seat.

He retrieved the second man—who was thankfully also still alive—and laid him half on top of his partner, and half leaning on the door.

Teddy jumped behind the wheel, made a U-turn, and sped away from the fire. He was halfway home when several fire engines raced past him in the other direction. Given that the fire was relatively small, he thought their chances of containing it were good.

He hit the remote for his gate as he neared it, drove through as soon as it was wide enough, then tapped a second button on the remote that would keep the gate open.

As soon as he parked, he laid both men on his driveway, then checked them for injuries. Neither had anything obvious.

His phone vibrated.

"Mr. Barnett, it's June Marnell. Were you able to locate the van?"

He gave her a quick explanation of what he'd found.

"Is the delivery team okay?" she asked.

"I'll leave that determination to the doctors. But they seem to be breathing normally and are not in distress."

"Oh, thank God."

What she said next was drowned out by three rapid trills coming from the phone. A message appeared on the screen:

Brushfire in your vicinity.

You are urged to evacuate the area.

"Sorry," Teddy said. "I need to go."

"I'll contact you again later."

A news helicopter flew over his house toward the fire. As the sound of the rotors faded, a wail of sirens took its place. The whooping grew louder and louder until two ambulances turned into his driveway, with a police car following them.

While EMTs assessed the unconscious men, Teddy gave his account of what he'd found to a pair of police officers.

The officers' radios crackled to life. "Be advised, evacuation order lifted. Fire has been contained."

Teddy felt the tension he'd been holding on to ebb. If he hadn't discovered the fire and reported it when he had, it would have been a completely different story.