Boston, MA
“Oh, hello,” Samuel said to Agent Uribe. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Let’s not be cute, shall we?”
Samuel grinned. “Can’t help it.”
“Get in the car,” she said. “We need to chat.”
“Not feeling chatty at the moment.” He continued walking down the sidewalk.
She stayed by his side, and a young couple passed going the opposite direction. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
Samuel heard a car door close behind them and looked back. A man was walking around from the back passenger side of Agent Uribe’s Taurus to the sidewalk.
“You must be Chucky,” Samuel said.
Chucky sneered.
Samuel continued forward. Agent Uribe stayed by his side, and Samuel heard Chucky’s footsteps following behind them.
Agent Uribe’s voice sounded forcibly casual. “Are you curious how we found you?”
“You figured I’d be back in Boston eventually. You think that’s where your silly treasure is. And you hung out in the area where I’d stayed before. When you heard the robbery at the Walgreens on the police blotter, you headed this way.”
“Very good.”
“I have my moments.”
“Now,” Agent Uribe said, “let’s use those skills for something useful for once.”
Samuel smiled at her. “So you can steal the missing Gardner Museum artwork?”
“Recover the missing artwork,” she corrected.
Samuel kept smiling and faced forward, still walking. They’d passed a luncheonette and a luggage place, and now they were passing a bank. Let’s get a bit farther away from all those cameras and security guards.
“You can tell me where The Dream is now,” she said.
“I would if I had any idea who that is. I think we covered that pretty clearly last time.”
“Right, you’re just a tourist.”
Chucky behind them snorted.
Samuel glanced back. “Why does no one believe I’m just a tourist? Detectives are allowed to take vacations, aren’t we?”
Chucky stared at him with what was probably supposed to be an intimidating expression.
Samuel turned around and smacked him on the shoulder. “Loosen up, man.”
Chucky sneered.
“Better be careful,” Samuel said, “or your face’ll get stuck that way.” He turned back around and glanced at his surroundings. There was a small triangle-shaped parking lot across the street, and on the other side of that was another street with more tightly packed shops bordering it. He was looking for an exit, though he wasn’t sure what exactly it would look like. Samuel focused on Uribe. “Let’s do this. I’m a bit busy at the moment, but we can meet up a little later. Maybe we can go to that little diner again. They had great burgers.”
“Busy with what exactly?” Uribe asked.
“Uh, I think I’ve been pretty clear. I’m a tourist, remember? Are you feeling all right?”
Uribe grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.
“Tsk, tsk,” Samuel said. “You don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”
“I’m an FBI agent, Samuel. I don’t need to worry about unwanted attention.”
“That might be the case if you were on the up-and-up. But . . . I think we both know that’s not quiiiite accurate.”
Chucky moved closer, against Samuel’s shoulder.
Samuel looked over at him. “May I help you with something?”
Chucky growled the words. “You can tell her what she wants to know.”
Something clicked in Samuel’s head. He knew the man’s voice. All too well.
He tried to realign past events in his mind. They were all connected. He tried to see all the angles, but there were so many. He’d never considered anything like this. He’d thought maybe some connection to al-Sadr, but not this.
Samuel glanced around to make sure no shoppers were within earshot. “You’re my handler. Charlie.”
“Stop playing,” Uribe said. “You’re wearing on my last nerve. Perhaps I should simply bring you in and turn you over to Homeland Security.”
“I don’t think Charlie’s going to let you do that,” Samuel said. He looked at his handler. “Isn’t that right?”
Charlie cocked an eyebrow.
“How long has this been going on?” Samuel asked.
Charlie didn’t answer.
“You want me to give you information on Dream, right? Answer my questions, and I’ll consider answering yours.”
“What’re you playing at?” Uribe demanded. “Charlie is ex-FBI. He’s assisting me in finding the missing Gardner art.”
Samuel continued to focus on Charlie. “I think that’s the other way around.”
Uribe shifted forward, trying to get in Samuel’s face. “You deal with me. Leave him out of this.”
“It’s time to be quiet now, Tama,” Charlie said, still focused on Samuel.
“What’re you talking about? I’ve been letting you assist with this as a courtesy.”
Charlie looked at Uribe. “Samuel already has a better concept of reality than you do.” He turned back to Samuel. “I’m tired of risking my life for no pay.”
“So, you want the art,” Samuel said. “The question is, do you want the reward or do you want the art to sell on the black market?”
Charlie cocked his head. “At first, I really just wanted the reward.”
“Until Tama here gave you the idea of selling it off piece by piece on the black market.”
“Much higher returns. She has her moments of inspiration.”
“What’s going on?” Uribe growled at Charlie. “I trusted you.”
Charlie smirked. “You trusted me about as much as I trusted you.”
“He’s right, isn’t he?” Uribe said. “You plan on selling the art on the black market.”
“And you’re planning something different?” Charlie said.
“I plan on turning it in. Doing the right thing.”
Charlie laughed. “That’s why you’ve devoted all your resources. Your department pulled you off this case months ago. You’ve been using your leave time and your savings.”
“I wanted the reward. I wouldn’t sell the art—that’s just as bad as stealing,” Uribe said.
“You’re an FBI agent. You can’t get the reward. I saw the research on your phone.”
“When did you look at my phone?”
“I’m trained in espionage, and I’m very good at it. Figuring out the pin for your phone wasn’t exactly an arduous task.”
She opened her mouth but said nothing.
“I slipped you information you couldn’t get on your own,” Charlie said. “How’d you think I was getting more information than you could? You turned a blind eye in order to get what you wanted.”
“You’re under arrest.”
Charlie laughed. He was loud enough that a few people on the sidewalk looked over.
Samuel took a half step back, closer to the road.
“Under arrest for what?” Charlie asked.
“Obstruction of justice.”
“You still have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
She lifted her chin. “I think that’s the other way around.”
A few people paused on the sidewalk. Samuel took another slow step, partially behind a middle-aged couple who’d stopped and were watching the argument.
Samuel slipped back onto the road. Then he crossed the street at a jog and headed through the parking lot.
“Hey!” Charlie yelled. “Stop!”