ONE DAY LATER
LA PORTE, SOUTHEAST OF HOUSTON, TEXAS—DECEMBER 19, 2020—21:00 / 9:00 P.M. CST
The next night, the team drove up to the warehouse complex in a box truck. Yaron, Avigdor, and Nir sat in the cab. In the back with the cargo were the rest of the Kidon operatives, as well as Avigdor’s tech team. As the fence bounced open, Yaron rolled down the window. Cohen stepped out of the guard shack.
Looking at Nir, he said, “I can never thank you enough—”
“What’s done is done,” Nir said. Avigdor didn’t know about the events of the night before, and Nir wanted to keep it that way.
“Anyway, Lily asked me to give this to the older man.” He reached in with a small photo of the girl—a head shot, like the ones taken for yearbooks.
Yaron took the photo from his hand and slipped it into a cargo pocket on his pants. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Thank you. So the front door to the Marcos workshop is unlocked. Best you can, try to leave the place like you found it.”
Following the directions Cohen then gave them, they identified the correct building. The door was unlocked as promised, and Nir stepped in and turned on the lights. The teams immediately began unloading the truck. Nir had his Kidon team carry in the heavy rectangles of cement, leaving the moving of the explosives to the experienced hands of the tech team.
Inside, everything was exactly as Nicole described. Different stations had been established for each stage of the creation process. The area they were looking for was down to the right next to a series of three roll-up doors. This was where the finished products were prepared for shipping. The techs began identifying the paintings that matched the correct shipping addresses. Meanwhile, Nir sent Yaron and Doron to watch the unlocked door. He kept Dima and Imri close for any heavy lifting.
Avigdor walked toward him. “We have a problem. All the copies are accounted for and ready to ship, just as le Roux had discovered from the artist. However, the two originals aren’t here.”
Of course they aren’t, you idiot, Nir thought, chastising himself. Why would Alicia keep ten million dollars’ worth of paintings in a warehouse with so little security? I really need to talk with her about upgrading her workshop.
“Get your team working on the others. Let me make a call.”
Taking out his encrypted phone, he punched in a number. He could hear steel drums and laughter in the background even before he heard her voice.
“Nicole le Roux.”
“Nicole, Nir.”
“Just a second.” Then she called out, “It’s just my agent. Give me a quick sec. What? No thanks, Heather. If I ate another shrimp, I’d grow a shell.”
A moment passed, then she spoke, her tone much more serious now. “Is there a problem?”
“Hopefully only minor. The originals aren’t here. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“I didn’t either. Um, hold on. I’ll call you back in five.” She ended the call before Nir could respond.
True to Nicole’s word, Nir’s phone rang five minutes later. “Go,” he said.
“That’s new. You been watching Criminal Minds or CSI or something?”
Nir smiled. The fact that she was joking with him meant good news. “So?”
“They’re in her office. I think I’m getting a little too good at this whole art of deception.”
“Art of deception,” he said as he walked across the workshop. “I see what you did there. And we still have a problem,” he added as he arrived at the office. A keypad was inserted above the door’s lock, and the door looked like it was made of steel.
“Oh, you mean the combination? Problem for you, but not for me.” She rattled off a ten-digit number. “When I was there, I videoed her punching it in when I was pretending to be texting.”
“Who are you? Pretty soon we’ll have you making dead drops in Gorky Park.” Nir punched in the numbers, and the door opened with a shoosh. “I’m in.” He looked around and realized Alicia wasn’t quite as lax on security as he had thought. This room was essentially a big steel vault. He began walking back toward Avigdor. “Sounds like you’re having a good time.”
“It’s always a good time on the Rock-a-Little.”
“Well, get back to your mai tais and your limbo or whatever you’re doing.”
“Watch your back, Nir.”
“I always do.” He ended the call.
The work wasn’t fast, but it was smooth. As Nir watched, the techs laid a 15-millimeter-thick sheet of rubberized, organic compound RDX, an explosive usually used for mining, on the cement back of each painting. A detonator containing a passive signal receiver was connected to the explosives using a thin cord of the chemical PETN, and then they affixed a cement false back with cutouts sized just perfectly so it could lay flush against the painting. Finally, a protective sealant was added around the edge, essentially just extending the already existing sealant applied by Alicia’s team.
When the detonator received a signal, Avigdor had explained, it would trigger the PETN cord. The smaller explosion of the PETN would set off the RDX with enough force to send any mega yacht sky-high, then down to the bottom of the sea.
As Nir watched the process, part of him felt pride. This vision he’d had from just a simple walk through Milan was now coming to fruition. Soon these bombs would be in the yachts of eight really bad guys. Would they ever be used? Who knew? But at least they’d be there if needed.
Another part of him, though, felt ashamed—maybe even a little disgusted—at this whole scheme. An idea had popped into his head, and now human beings could die because of it. It was hard to really feel proud about that. Sure, the people targeted were bad guys, but who was to say he wasn’t a bad guy too? Aren’t good and evil just based on which side you’re on or which religious texts you read?
Nicole would vehemently disagree with that. She would say there’s right and wrong. If you’re on God’s side, then you’re right. If you aren’t, then you’re wrong. He wondered which side he was really on.
I’d sleep better if I knew I was on the right side. However, is that IRGC soldier in Iran sleeping well because he knows that, based on his scriptures, he’s in the right? Nicole and the IRGC guy can’t both be right, can they? Otherwise, there is no right and wrong. Truth is just arbitrary.
Avigdor walked up. “Want to tell me what’s rattling through that brain of yours?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good.” The old man placed his hand on Nir’s shoulder. “Then instead, maybe you can tell me about your little escapade last night. Did it have anything to do with the passing of that photograph in the truck?”
“You have got to be kidding me. Who told you? I can’t believe one of my team spilled it.”
“Oh no, achi. I heard it from the ramsad himself.”
Nir threw up his hands. “The ramsad? Beautiful.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not as mad as you think. He said you killed only one person, which is apparently some kind of record for you.”
“Great. Now I’m getting smack talked by the ramsad.”
Avigdor laughed. “Come. We’re nearing completion. Tell me while there is still time. I live for a good story.”