Chapter 18
—Not everybody has to like me. I can’t force you to have good taste.—
“He’s careful,” Skye said, looking through her long-range binoculars from their rooftop perch a couple blocks away from the warehouse they’d tracked Leroux to.
“He’s a smuggler,” Colt replied. And smugglers on the whole were very careful.
“True enough. So…I have an idea,” she said.
“For some reason I don’t think I’m going to like it.” Didn’t mean he wouldn’t take part in it though. He scanned the surrounding area with his own binoculars. They’d tracked Leroux here and he’d taken a long, circuitous route. He’d made a lot of pointless stops, clearly in an effort to ferret out any tails.
Too bad for him they were pros and he was a midlevel smuggler. The guy was decent enough, according to his reputation, but he wasn’t big league. Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have information they needed.
“I was thinking we can do to him that thing we did in Argentina a few years ago.”
It took him a moment then he smiled. “That seems…a bit brutal. The guy’s just a smuggler.”
“Well, the plan won’t be the same. I just mean the same concept. We’ll call the cops on him, not thugs who will kidnap and torture him. But this way, he’ll be out of our hair and we can break into his warehouse.”
He nodded once. “It’s a good plan.”
She snorted that way she often did. “Of course it is.”
“Who makes the call?” he asked.
“I will. I can pretend to be hysterical.”
He snorted. He wasn’t sure exactly what his wife was going to say, but she was going to get the smuggler arrested. Or if not arrested, at least he’d be detained for a while. So they would be free to break into his warehouse. Because Colt guaranteed the guy had an alarm system. But Leroux wouldn’t have an alarm system rigged to the security company. No, he’d have it rigged to his own phone. But he wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it going off when he was in police custody.
“He’s leaving now,” Skye said, still looking through her binoculars. “I’m making the call.” She pulled out one of the burners and started to breathe erratically.
He could hear the operator on the other line as Skye said, “Oh my God! Oh my God! I just saw a woman kidnapped! This man punched her in the face and threw her in the back of his SUV. It looks like he tied her up.” Still talking in that hyperactive tone, Skye went on to give a crystal-clear description of the man right down to what type of shoes he was wearing. “I know what shoes they are because my brother has the same pair.” There was a pause and then Skye said, “I saw his license plate too! Will that help?” she asked, and he could see her trying not to laugh.
Because of course it would help.
She rattled off the license plate that they’d memorized earlier and then when the woman asked for her name and location, Skye said, “Oh my God! He’s turning around.” She quickly rattled off the street name. “Oh God, he sees me!” Then she hung up and smashed the burner under her foot.
“Well, if that doesn’t work, we’ll come up with a new plan,” Colt murmured.
“It’ll work. They’ll definitely send a few uniforms his way regardless. I figure we’ve got about ten minutes until he’s pulled over.”
“Just enough time to grab the van.” They’d “borrowed” a van from a parking lot and switched the plates for this job.
Ten minutes later, they stood in front of the side door of the nondescript warehouse.
“There are a couple wireless cameras,” Skye murmured.
“Yeah, saw that,” he said quietly, keeping his head down and angled away from the ones he’d seen before they approached.
“I recognize the type. It will definitely transfer video to his phone.”
“That’s all right. He won’t be able to identify us. No one will.” They’d worn disguises for this operation for this very reason. This was the kind of op where they couldn’t wear masks. They’d been out in public so they had to blend in.
Skye had a platinum blonde wig on and was wearing four layers of padding underneath a loose-flowing top that made her look about forty pounds heavier than she actually was. She also had on leggings and sneakers, which would make it easy to run if necessary.
He’d worn a ball cap and added cotton to his cheekbones to change the shape. And he had on a wig underneath his hat, covering his ears. The glasses he was wearing would distort his face as well.
Always be prepared. The CIA had drilled that into them long ago.
“He could have the door rigged with a booby trap.” Skye paused, glancing down the quiet, nearly empty street. Leroux had chosen this location well. Not a lot of foot traffic and right on the water.
Colt nodded. The chances of that were actually fairly high, considering the guy was a smuggler. He’d be very particular about his stuff and wouldn’t mind killing someone to protect it. Because Leroux had clients who valued their privacy.
“I say we blow through a wall instead of going through the door.”
Colt grinned, nodding. “You just want an excuse to blow shit up,” he murmured, falling in step with her.
They walked around the warehouse, heading for the west side, which didn’t back up against anything. It was right on the water, which was a smart place to be. Leroux would be able to move stuff in and out by truck or boat. And it gave him an escape plan if necessary.
“There might be people inside,” Skye said.
Maybe. Smugglers tended to operate a certain way and they didn’t trust anyone. Not even their own people. All that art and other expensive things just lying around for the taking? It could be too much temptation if one of their subordinates got greedy. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Shrugging, Skye started pulling out what they would need to blow a huge, jagged hole into the wall. Once she’d set it all up, they rigged the det cord and ran to the back of the warehouse. Once they were clear, she grinned and set it off.
Then his amazing wife rubbed her hands together gleefully. “It’s time to go shopping.”
* * *
“How are we doing on time?” Skye asked as she rushed up to the back of the van. They’d reversed it through the hole they’d blown up.
He’d grabbed the majority of the stuff, but she’d gotten antsy being the lookout so they’d traded places. She slid a Monet painting into the back of the packed van.
“This is probably worth a couple mil,” she said. “If it’s real.”
They’d been stealing the most expensive stuff they could find for the last twelve minutes. “Twelve minutes. We need to wrap up in three.”
“Done. I want to grab an Egyptian piece I saw a few rows back.”
He nodded, peering out the hole and glancing down the side of the warehouse. Still no company, but they shouldn’t be here any longer than necessary. It was possible Leroux had contacted someone and sent backup if he was being detained by the police. But fifteen minutes was as far as Colt was willing to go.
When he heard the sound of a distant engine, he pulled out his SIG and peered out the hole. No one. But he heard the engine, then the sound of a door slamming. As he did, Skye moved in behind him.
“What’s up?” she murmured.
“I think we have company.”
“I’ll head to the front door.” Her voice was as quiet as his. Then she was off, ghost silent, despite the extra bulk she was carrying. He flipped on his ear comm.
He remained where he was, keeping an eye on the opening. They’d checked and there were only a couple entrances in this place. And the front door had been rigged as they’d suspected. So if someone entered through it, they needed the code.
When his phone buzzed, he glanced at it. It was a text from Gage. It was a setup. A is wounded. He’s okay. We’re headed back to base.
“Get up here now,” Skye said quietly into the ear comm.
Hell, he’d have to text Gage later. Weapon up, he used the many aisles filled with stolen goods to cover himself. He stopped when he found Skye, weapon drawn on a petite, curly-haired woman.
“You’re fucking dead for breaking in here,” the woman snarled.
It was hard to take her too seriously when she was facedown, hands behind her head.
“Yeah, yeah.” Skye rolled her eyes at him when he approached. “Heard it all before. Now listen to me and listen good.”
Colt moved into action, restraining the woman’s hands behind her back and taking her ID and phone as Skye spoke.
“We’ve taken a lot from the man I’m assuming is your boss. Some items I can guarantee he’ll want back sooner than later. You tell him to call this number.” Skye tossed a plain white card on the floor next to the woman’s face. A number was scrawled onto it. “If he calls, he gets his shit back. If he doesn’t call, I’ll set it all on fire and send him a video of it burning. Including that Monet painting.”
“You stupid bitch!”
“Thank you,” Skye said calmly. “Think you can manage to remember this little message?” She nudged the woman once in the ribs.
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.
It didn’t take them long to clear out. In case the woman had backup on the way, they grabbed just one more piece each and headed to the van.
“You wouldn’t really burn that Monet, would you?” Colt asked as he steered out onto the street. They’d already slashed all of the woman’s tires, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon regardless.
Skye looked at him in horror. “Hell no. I’ll hang it up next to the crab painting if we don’t give it back to Leroux.”
He wasn’t sure if she was joking.
As he drove, she pulled out a plastic bag from under her oversized top. “These are all the trackers on the various pieces of art and artifacts.” She held it up, the small black trackers clicking against each other as she did. “And I have sort of a mean idea.”
Oh, he knew exactly what she wanted to do. “You want to send them off in a bunch of directions, don’t you?” To send Leroux on a wild goose chase.
“Yes. He won’t call us right away. He’ll try to figure out who we are and he’ll think he’s smarter than us and follow the trackers. I give him until about tomorrow morning to make contact. Maybe sooner. It depends on how fast he can mobilize once the cops let him go.” Then she gave that evil villain laugh that he loved so much.
Life with her was definitely never boring.