sixty-seven

“Tuck?” Angel walked into the Kit Kat’s bar behind Thorne. She was dazed, confused—her face was pale and her eyes darted around the room trying to find familiarity, but she couldn’t. Her voice trembled and the words stuck in her throat when she said, “Tuck? I don’t understand. One minute I’m with you and then … nowhere. What’s happening to me?”

I didn’t know. “You’re here now, with us—Ollie and me. It’s all right.”

She looked at Ollie with eyes more uneasy than friendly. “Ollie? You’re his … grandfather, the OSS man? Oh, Tuck …” She ran to me and threw her arms around me. She kissed me long and hard. When she pulled back, she smiled as though it all suddenly made sense. “It’s over. The hard part, right?”

“Yes, I think so.” Hell, I didn’t know. I glanced at Ollie. “Is it, Ollie?”

“No, kid. Be patient. This one’s new to me, too.”

There was a crash of wood splintering outside the bar and Bear and Cal burst in, weapons drawn.

Bear yelled, “Everyone freeze, Frederick County Sheriff’s Department.”

Thorne lowered his handgun. “Ah, Detective Braddock, good. I was worried I would have to entertain this one myself.” He pointed to B.C., who lay bleeding on the floor. “And dear Mr. Hawkins needs an ambulance as well.”

I pulled Angel close. “It’s okay, babe. It’s over.”

“Ah, no, kid,” Ollie said. “Keys was a German spy who killed my friend. Raina’s family killed Claude and Cy. And if I’d not given Youssif that gun, maybe none of it would have happened. But it still isn’t over. Not yet.”

Angel whispered, “Tuck, we can be together now. It’s all right, isn’t it? No … Tuck!” Her voice trailed off and she was gone.

“What happened to her, Ollie?” I looked around but she was nowhere again—just gone. “Where’d she go? Is she coming back?”

“I don’t know, kid. I’m a spook—I mean, a CIA man—not a spirit master. Remember what Doc told you.”

I wanted answers and that wasn’t one of them. “Bear, Raina Iskandr might have killed Angel. I’m not sure …”

“Angela’s in a coma,” Bear said to no one in particular. “The cold saved her life. She went into hypothermia and it kept her from bleeding out—maybe.”

Relief flooded my not-quite-there body.

“Angela?” Thorne turned to Bear and his face paled. “Will she live?”

Bear shrugged. “Where’s Iskandr?”

“She ran out the back,” Lee said. “She’s gone.”

“Raina?” Thorne asked. “But why?”

It struck me that Thorne had called Raina by name. “Bear, Thorne shouldn’t know Raina unless he was working with her somehow, right?”

Bear looked over at Cal tending to Keys. “Cal?”

“He’s in rough shape, Bear. He needs a doc.” He pointed to B.C. just as his radio squealed and he listened. “This one will live. One of our deputies was hit out back trying to stop Raina from escaping. She’s gone. I’ve got ambulances on the way.”

“Get them here faster.” Bear looked back at Thorne. “What are you doing here, Thorne?”

“Saving the day—again.” He didn’t skip a beat. “You recall Marshal’s ire at me over the eavesdropping devices in his office?”

“I do. You said it wasn’t you.”

“Actually, no, Detective.” Thorne walked to the bar, reached over it, and retrieved a glass. He poured himself a drink from the bourbon bottle B.C. had been emptying. “I never actually denied it.”

Bear watched him.

Thorne took a long, deep pull on his drink. “I have been working this case right along with you. You were not aware, I know. I’ve had listening devices in this club, just like the bank, for months. It seems someone—an accomplice of this man, B.C.—dispatched him here to assist Raina as part of a grand bargain for William Mendelson’s treasure and the identity of her grandfather’s murderer. An hour ago, B.C. and Raina arrived and begin interrogating the Hawkinses. They were in serious danger, thus I decided to end my charade and intercede. I regret Raina escaped. I’d hoped your young deputy in the parking lot would have stopped her.”

“The charade?” Bear didn’t lower his weapon.

I said, “Bear, Thorne’s not Thorne.”

“Thorne’s not Thorne?” Bear didn’t seem surprised, nor was he worried about the odd looks he got from everyone. “Okay, pal, let’s have the gun. Then you can explain your charade.”

“Yes, of course.” He handed the gun to Bear and returned to his drink. “I’ll want it back later. You understand.”

Bear turned to Lee. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine—shaken, but all right.” She put a hand on Keys’s shoulder as Cal worked on his wounds. “He’s got busted ribs, I’m sure. But I think he’ll be okay.”

I said, “Keys’s real name is Albrecht Falke, not Albert Hawkins. He was a Nazi spy in Cairo in 1944. He killed a man named Youssif Iskandr—Raina’s grandfather. Afterward, he and William and some others smuggled Iskandr’s Egyptian antiquities back here. Keys started all this back in the war.”

I gave him the condensed version of everything Ollie and I knew. The entire time, Bear stood there and absorbed the details—oblivious to the others in the room who looked at each other with raised eyebrows and smirks. Everyone but Cal, that is. He nodded right along with Bear.

“Albrecht Falke—Albert ‘Keys’ Hawkins? A Nazi spy?” Bear’s face twisted when he looked from Lee to Keys.

“That was 1944, Bear.” Lee went to him and took his arm in both hands. “He’s been an American ever since. He never did anything in this country but be a good man. Surely you’ll understand.”

“Dammit, I wish we had normal murders around here.” Bear bit his lip and grumbled for a long time. Then he said, “Last time it was Russian mobsters and now it’s German spies. What’s next?”

I knew. “Zombie apocalypse.”

He didn’t think that was funny. Ollie did.

Bear said, “Okay, so we know about Keys. But who robbed and killed William? And what about Karen and Marshal? Someone is behind all three murders.”

Damn good questions. “I don’t know yet, Bear. We haven’t worked that out.”

Cal handcuffed B.C., wrapping a bar towel around his leg wound all the while reading him his rights. After he searched him, Cal dumped the contents of B.C.’s pockets into a ceramic bowl on the bar that had hieroglyphs and Egyptian drawings on it. Then he sat him on the floor.

Bear walked over to Thorne. “Who are you, pal? You’re no bank man, that’s for sure.”

“No, I am not.” Thorne laughed and emptied his drink. “Interpol. I’ve been on William’s trail for a year. I was sent under cooperation with the Egyptian government after some of the stolen antiquities surfaced. I was to identify the thieves and return the antiquities. I’m part of an international smuggling unit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ollie raised his eyebrows. “A smuggling unit?”

Bear said, “Prove it.”

“Of course.” Thorne reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a black leather credential case and tossed it to Bear. “I have a contact number for you to call, too. But perhaps we should try and catch up to Raina Iskandr first. I believe I know where she is headed.”

Bear studied the credentials and handed them to Cal. “You could have identified yourself sooner, Thorne.”

“Perhaps. I didn’t want you locals screwing up my investigation. I’ve been on it too long.” Thorne hooked a thumb toward the door. “Raina won’t get far, gentlemen. But I insist you allow me to apprehend her. I have more jurisdiction over her than you.”

“Go with him, Cal,” Bear said, handing Thorne back his handgun. “I’ll stay with this bunch.”

“Right, I’ll call you on the way—jurisdiction or not.” Cal holstered his gun and looked at Thorne. “Let’s go, Interpol Man.”

Thorne marched out of the bar with Cal close behind.

Bear looked down at Keys for several minutes. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“That depends, Detective Braddock.” Keys tried to smile but winced in pain. “Is forgetting the past out of the question?”

“Please, Bear, for me.” Lee put a hand on Bear’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “He’s ninety. How long can he last?”

“Bear!” Cal staggered back into the bar holding his head—blood streamed between his fingers. In his other hand was a small-framed revolver.

“Cal?” Bear helped him to a chair. “What happened?”

“Son of a bitch.” Cal looked at his blood-covered hand and felt the gash in the side of his temple. “He was yakking about being an Interpol cop. He just stopped and came at me—about took my head off. He took my piece and drove off. I didn’t find my legs or my backup gun until he was already gone.”

Bear shook his head. “Interpol my ass.”

“When I was on the ground, he gave me a message for you.” Cal balanced himself on the barstool. “He said, ‘Tell Angela I’m sorry.’ ”

“He’s sorry?” Bear looked at me.

“International thief,” Ollie said. “I tried to warn you.”

He did? “No, Ollie, you said Thorne wasn’t Thorne. You kept saying …”

“Details, details,” Ollie said.

“I need some ice, man.” Cal found the ceramic Egyptian bowl on the bar that held B.C.’s pocket contents. He fumbled with it using only one hand and it dropped on the floor and shattered.

“Easy, Calloway.” Lee went over and scooped up the pieces. “It’s all right. We got tons of this junk in the basement. Let me get you some ice.”

Ollie looked down at B.C.’s key ring amidst the ceramic pieces on the floor. “Hey, kid, you thinkin’ what I am?”

I was. “Yes, and it’s been in front of our faces the whole time.”