Chapter 30

"Wake up."

Dalton parted his eyelids, then slammed them closed again. Someone had turned the light on in his room. Confused, he rolled onto his back and eased his eyes open.

"Simon? What the hell?"

"Get dressed. We have somewhere to go."

Dalton sat up. "How did you get in here?" While he was staying at the same hotel as Simon, he had not given the art dealer a key to his room.

"Quit dawdling and get up."

Still half asleep, Dalton swung his legs off the bed, grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and checked the time. It was barely five a.m. "Where are we going at this time in the morning?"

"To find out how much your friend Monica Reyes knows."

"Monica? What are you talking about?"

Simon headed for the door. "I'll be in the lobby. If you're not there in ten minutes, I'll leave without you."

Dalton threw on some clothes and rushed into the lobby with two minutes to spare.

He had assumed Simon had come with his driver, but it was Simon himself who got behind the wheel.

"Can you tell me where we're going?" Dalton asked as they drove over the hill into the San Fernando Valley.

"You'll see soon enough."

Simon was equally unhelpful when Dalton asked what he'd meant about Monica, and he finally gave up trying to get anything out of him.

Thirty minutes later, they were in the northeast end of the San Fernando Valley, traveling on a windy road into the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. The houses along the road were far apart from each other, often out of sight of their neighbors.

Dalton was starting to think they were heading to the top of the mountain when Simon pulled into a driveway and stopped. Planted in the front yard was a for sale sign that looked as if it had been there for years, which made sense, given that the house appeared just as neglected.

"What are we doing here?"

"Getting our answers."

Simon climbed out. Dalton hesitated a moment, then did the same.

The front door of the house swung open before they reached it, Phillip on the other side.

"Is he ready?" Simon asked.

Phillip nodded. "Primed and waiting."

"Lead on."

They passed through a dingy living room into a dark hallway, the whole place stinking of mold and rot, then stopped at a closed door at the very end.

"In here," Phillip said.

He opened the door and stood to the side so that Simon and Dalton could enter first.

The space was lit by a single, bright light focused on a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was slouched forward, his face hidden. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of his torso as he breathed.

Simon walked over, grabbed the man's hair, and shoved him into a sitting position. The man's face was bloodied and bruised, but there was something familiar about him to Dalton.

He was still trying to figure it out when Simon slapped the man's face, and the man's eyes opened.

Simon grinned. "Hello, Tristan."

Realization hit Dalton. "That's the guy from your gallery."

"The very same," Simon said. "Thank you for pointing him out to us."

Dalton felt his throat constrict. Whatever he'd thought joining an art theft ring would involve, it hadn't been something like this.

"You're looking a little peaked," Simon said. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I…it's just…can't you just talk to him."

"I am going to talk to him."

"I mean without…" He waved a hand at Tristan.

"Does a little violence make you feel uneasy?"

"I…"

"Sometimes a heavy hand is needed. You're a partner now, remember? If you can't take it, we can cancel our agreement and go back to a per job fee."

Dalton almost said yes, but the thought of giving up all that cash was enough to stop him. "No. I was a little surprised, that's all. It's my first time. Sorry."

"May I continue?"

"Of course. Sorry."

Simon turned back to Tristan. "I understand you've been giving away my secrets."

"No. I didn't…say anything." He spoke as if he had to push each word out.

"Phillip saw you with the woman."

"I only went there…to tell her I didn't…know anything…because…because I don't."

Tristan's head started to droop. Simon grabbed his ear and pulled it back up, causing the kid to yelp in pain.

"I'm telling the truth. I didn't…I didn't…I—"

His eyes fluttered and his whole body fell forward, the rope the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the floor.

"Tristan," Simon said.

When he didn't respond, Simon pushed him up so that he flopped against the back of the chair.

"Tristan." Simon slapped his face. "Tristan." He did it again, but Tristan remained unconscious. Simon looked at Phillip, who stood near the door. "Did he tell you anything of use?"

"He gave me the same story he gave you."

"Do you believe him?"

"He wasn't with her very long, so he couldn't have said much."

"That's not what I asked you."

Phillip shrugged. "Yeah, I believe."

"I do, too." Simon stood.

"What are you going to do with him?" Dalton asked.

"First off, he's fired," Simon said.

Phillip snorted.

"You're going to let him go, though, right?" Dalton asked.

Simon looked at him with pity. "Do you think that would be a good idea?"

Dalton tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. "Probably not."

"Then you have your answer." He glanced at Phillip. "It's time to deal with that other matter."

"Understood."

"What other matter?" Dalton asked.

Phillip's pistol smacked into the back of Dalton's head, dropping him to the floor.

He groaned as someone toed his ribs.

"Do you think you're the only dirty insurance executive out there?" Simon asked. "Let me answer that for you. You are not. The only thing you are is a nuisance. And I'm afraid I can't abide nuisances."

A boot slammed into Dalton's head.

As darkness began to close in, Dalton heard Phillip say, "The woman's still going to be a problem."

"Not for long," Simon replied.

"You have a plan?"

"I do. One that our two friends here can help with."

Whatever that plan was, Dalton didn't remain conscious long enough to hear it.