With the D.C. Mastermind now out of their hands, Mitch and Adam joined Nick to listen to the conversations from Lawrence’s office. Nick removed his headphones and connected the microphones to broadcast the dialogue.
“Nothing yet,” Nick updated them.
Mitch nodded, sitting down opposite him. Moments later he stood up again and walked towards the balcony to look outside.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked him.
“I’m still in D.C.”
“It’s out of our hands now,” Adam told him. “We’ve given Sam enough to nail the boys, it should just play out.”
“I know,” Mitch agreed looking over at them. “You’re right.”
“Close call though,” Adam said.
“Mitch, sit down; you’ll hear soon enough,” Nick assured him. “You picked Sam for the job; you must have thought she could do it.”
Mitch looked away.
“… or maybe not.”
“It’s not a matter of trust,” Mitch started. “It’s about limited resources …”
“But she’s got backup with the local CIDs,” Nick reminded him.
“Yeah,” Mitch swayed on his heels. He saw Nick and Adam exchange looks.
“OK,” he pulled himself together, “let’s focus on the blackmail.”
Samantha saw Paul Asher glance at his watch. Waiting for the bomb squad, are we Paul? Should be coming any minute, she thought. Paul put his earphones in and continued to work, constantly glancing towards the door.
Samantha waited. Finally, she saw the door open and two officers in black came in. Not Roe’s men – must be the bomb squad. Their expressions said it all when they saw Paul Asher working away oblivious to what was happening. As they grabbed his arm, he feigned surprise.
One of the bomb squad snapped at him: “If you weren’t wearing that headset you would hear the evacuation alarm.” He looked at his partner. “This place is unbelievable,” he complained, “so much for fire drills; they don’t even know one of their own is missing.”
Samantha remained hidden, watching it all unfold.
A museum security officer entered the room.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “we were looking for him. I’ll see him out,” he told them, grabbing Paul Asher’s arm and moving him towards the storage door exit. The look on Paul’s face was one of pure smugness. Samantha waited, slipping out behind the pole and startling the two bomb-squad members.
“Shit!”
She indicated for them to be silent, flashed her I.D. and followed Paul out. She heard them complain as Roe’s man came out of hiding.
“Paul Asher’s left the storage area,” she whispered into her throat microphone for Roe’s benefit. “He’s being escorted out and he has four scrolls on him.”
“Copy that,” Roe came back at her. “We’ll pick him up after he’s shown out. All officers on exits to be on alert.”
Samantha followed at a safe distance as Paul was shown out of the building; he walked down the stairs and, spotting his two companions in the car, headed towards them.
“He’s on the move,” Samantha heard an officer in her earpiece. She kept her eyes on Paul as he stepped off the sidewalk towards the approaching car. Tour groups were being loaded back onto buses, unsure as to how long the library would be closed during the bomb alert.
“He’s in the public domain and he has the scrolls next to his chest,” Samantha added in a whisper through her microphone. “Move in.”
Wednesday 1745 London
(Wednesday 1245 Washington D.C.)
Mitch, Nick and Adam waited, listening to the audio feed from Lawrence’s office. Mitch’s foot tapped impatiently, his eyes constantly returning to his phone, waiting for a call from Samantha.
He looked up at the sound of a door opening through the audio feed and a female voice announced she had a delivery. Lawrence could be heard thanking her and rustling the envelope. Within minutes, he was on the phone, urgency in his voice.
“Andrew, get in here now,” Lawrence’s voice commanded. Mitch heard the door to Lawrence’s office open and a discussion began about raising one million pounds sterling.
Mitch looked to Adam and Nick. They grinned like schoolboys.
Lawrence ordered Andrew to call the directors together immediately.
Samantha saw it happen in slow motion. Plain clothed officers swarmed in, surrounding the car and Paul Asher. The look of shock on the boys’ faces relayed just how close they were to the perfect crime. The officers moved in and, hauling the two accomplices from the car, frisked and handcuffed them. Roe gave the order and the remaining boys were apprehended in the subway, including the twin, Ronin Asher. The public watched in disbelief.
Samantha ran down the front stairs to meet Roe who was standing with Paul Asher and the arresting officer. She had to see the scrolls for herself. She stopped in front of Paul. He was her height, young and angry, swearing and resisting arrest; his staff pass still dangled from his neck. She raised his shirt. He tried to step back but found himself wedged against a huge police officer.
Samantha gasped.
There was nothing there.
Samantha looked around confused.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Paul Asher hissed at her, through clenched teeth. He struggled to free himself from the police officer detaining him. Roe frisked him up and down.
“Damn,” Roe hissed through his locked jaw, “this is one serious screw up!” He glared at Samantha.
“Where are they, Paul?” Samantha snapped.
“Where’s what?” he asked.
“Don’t play cute with me. I’ve been watching you, your twin and your band of merry men. I was with you in the storage area when you filled the leather pouch with the scrolls.”
“Yeah? Sounds like fiction to me.” He gave her a smug smile.
She had a brainwave. “Whether you produce the goods or not, I’ve got it all on camera,” she bluffed, showing him her miniature video camera.
The smile faded from his face.
“So, where are they?”
She felt Roe watching her.
“Never mind,” she smiled at Paul. “I’m sure one of your team will tell me when we offer a plea bargain to save their own butts.”
Paul Asher glanced over at the two boys sitting in the back of the police car.
Samantha felt sick; a mixture of dread, fear and anger surging through her. In her mind, she ran over the scenario, trying to keep a hold on her rising sense of panic as she thought it through.
It was Paul Asher in front of me. I never let him out of my sight but somehow, between leaving the storage unit—escorted by the museum security officer—and arriving outside, he has off loaded the scrolls. Where? How?
“Holy crap!” she said, glancing around. Leaving Paul with one of Roe’s officers, she grabbed Roe.
“The museum security officer that escorted Paul out of the building! He’s not on staff; he’s one of them. Paul called him to say he was ready. Where is he? He’s got the scrolls.”
Roe issued orders through his microphone, putting everyone on alert. Somewhere, within a mile radius, one of Paul’s team was parading as a security officer carrying some of the world’s most valuable artefacts.
I have to find those scrolls, she panicked. God, I’ll never live down the embarrassment with the CID and TCU. Imagine the scorn of all these officers on site … and I’d have to tell Mitch!
She waited, sick to the stomach. She felt like everyone was waiting and watching her. She prayed Mitch would not call at this precise moment. Finally, it came, the radio call she wanted to hear.
“We’ve got him,” a male voice came through her head set. “Picked him up two blocks away, still in uniform. Can confirm that he has a leather pouch with the documents in it.”
“Bring him in,” Roe said.
Samantha closed her eyes. She felt the weight falling off her shoulders. Roe patted her on the back.
“Close one,” he said.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
I want to throw up! She watched Paul Asher being led away.
“It was a beautiful plan,” she called to him, “one of the best if not almost the perfect Mastermind.” She saw the look that flickered on his face at the mention of the word Mastermind.
“But game over.”