THREE

Shaw’s arrangement with Droma International Solutions had been strange from the very start.

The first oddity had been a phone call from Ephraim Ganz. Ganz was once his grandfather’s criminal attorney, as savvy at manipulating the justice system as Dono had been at combination-safe locks. Shaw hadn’t spoken to Ganz in the better part of a year. The two men had parted with some acrimony, as the lawyer might have put it.

Shaw had been in Addy Proctor’s kitchen, washing dishes, when the call came in. Addy and her foster kid, Cyndra, were choosing a show for the three of them to watch that night. Addy preferred The Great British Baking Show, while Cyn argued for a new series about vampires and the mortals who had a lot of sex with them. With sixty-five years separating the two women, finding common ground seemed unlikely. Shaw had opted for KP duty to stay out of the line of fire.

When his phone screen lit up with Ganz’s name, Shaw had assumed it meant trouble. He might not be a thief anymore, but since leaving the Army, he’d racked up a list of felonies that would make a DA salivate. Had he made some misstep, left some trail leading to him?

He left Addy and Cyndra to their debate and went to the back porch. Addy’s dog, Stanley, ever alert for a chance at adventure, followed him outside.

“Hello, Ephraim,” Shaw said into the phone.

“Van,” Ganz said. “Glad you picked up. What’s your schedule like these days? Got time for lunch tomorrow?”

“I’m not at the bar until six.” Shaw worked a variety of jobs at a place called Bully Betty’s on Capitol Hill and had become something of a silent partner to Betty of late. Saturday nights on the Hill required all hands on deck.

“Good. Excellent, even. I want you to meet somebody. If it works out, this might be a lucrative thing for you.”

Ganz’s preternatural levels of energy somehow translated through the open line. Shaw could swear his phone’s battery was charging the more they talked.

He picked up a hard rubber ball—solid enough that even Stanley’s massive jaws wouldn’t break it—and tossed it across the small yard for the dog to chase.

“Are you branching out, Ephraim? Placing temp workers?” Shaw said.

“Funny. No, this is a favor.”

Shaw grunted.

“Not a favor to you,” Ganz clarified. “In case you were worried you might owe me something for the trouble.”

“I was wondering who could be this eager to make my acquaintance.”

“A friend of mine from way back. You like seafood? The crab cakes at Canlis are going to knock you sideways. One o’clock tomorrow.”

Canlis, thought Shaw. Whoever Ganz was trying to impress, it wasn’t a client who’d brought him more grief than money.

“All right,” Shaw said. “I’ll wash my best shirt. The one with sleeves.”

It was Ganz’s turn to grumble. “Most people would think you were joking.”

“I’ll borrow some pants, too.”

“Go to hell,” Ganz said without rancor, and hung up.

Shaw sat down on the steps to lean against the porch rail. He waited until Stanley dropped the soggy ball at his feet for him to throw again. The night was warm and windless. The vanguard of insects that accompanied dusk had stuck around. A cloud of gnats made its slow way between Shaw and one of the solar-powered lights he’d installed over the winter along the edge of Addy’s lawn. The bugs were too tiny to cast anything resembling shadows. Instead it seemed like the air itself was rippling, shifting direction based on the whim of each second.

The promise of a fine lunch and even Ganz’s display of pique had been bits of distraction. The flourishes a magician makes to keep the audience from seeing the cards move. Or in this case to keep the audience from asking questions that might end the show before it started. It had seemed crucial to Ganz that Shaw make an appearance.

The wily attorney knew exactly who Shaw was. So the only real questions were, who was this old friend of Ephraim Ganz’s and why did they need a thief?

 

The hostess at Canlis had begun nodding appreciatively before Shaw finished telling her which party he was joining. She led him with cheerfully quick strides to a window table, where Ganz and a woman in a royal-blue business suit were deep in conversation.

Ganz saw Shaw approaching. “And there he is. Linda Edgemont, Donovan Shaw.”

“I’m delighted you could make it, Mr. Shaw,” Edgemont said, shaking Shaw’s hand.

“Ephraim set the hook pretty well,” said Shaw, taking the seat next to Ganz.

Edgemont looked to be in her midfifties, a few years younger than Ganz. They were a study in contrasts. Ganz was short and angular, with eyebrows and hair that defied taming. Edgemont’s height was obvious even when seated. An emphatic figure that anyone with half an eye would call curvaceous rather than heavy. And she was immaculately styled, from her champagne-blond hair unsullied by any strand of gray down to, Shaw presumed, the shoes out of sight under the tablecloth.

The server came and proffered menus and asked about drinks. Ganz followed Edgemont’s lead and ordered an iced tea. Shaw requested water and had to specify uncarbonated, which in turn required him to select a brand. He had the impression the server might have fainted if he’d said tap.

“The secrecy is my fault,” Edgemont said once they were alone again. “I asked Ephraim if he wouldn’t mind being circumspect until we could meet in person.”

“Linda and I were associates at the same firm when I first moved to Seattle,” Ganz said. “She was destined for greatness even then.”

Edgemont smiled warmly. “That’s rose-colored hindsight. But I appreciate it anyway.”

“What greatness occupies you now?” Shaw said.

“How familiar are you with Droma International Solutions?” Edgemont asked. “Or with Sebastien Rohner?”

“There’s a Droma sign on a building on 6th downtown. Beyond that I’m tapped.”

Edgemont nodded. “Mr. Rohner is the founder of Droma, and my employer. Droma is a privately held company. It doesn’t appear in many headlines outside those of industry journals.”

“Which industry?”

“Consulting services make up our primary revenue stream.”

The server returned with drinks and launched into a litany describing the courses on the prix-fixe menu. This time it was Edgemont who was the odd one out, opting for an entrée of the black cod while Ganz and Shaw chose the steak. Shaw had noted the three-digit prix at the top of the menu. At least now he had a clue why Ganz was showing off. Edgemont must have been an absolute bombshell when the two of them had been legal eaglets. Middle age hadn’t stolen much of the woman’s luster.

“Consulting for what?” Shaw prompted.

“Ephraim has been kind enough to share some of your background. The high points, at any rate. You served in special operations for the army?”

“The Rangers. That’s light infantry. Is Droma a PMC?”

“Private military?” Edgemont showed that warm smile again. “No. Our leading areas of expertise are business management, technology, and finance. But if we discover a role that’s a potential growth area, we’ll proactively seek out subject-matter specialists. We hire the very best and offer their services worldwide.”

Shaw sipped his mineral water. It went well with the implied flattery.

“Your training is an excellent marketing hook,” Edgemont said, “but it’s not what brought me here. Before the army you had another occupation.”

Shaw looked at Ganz. The attorney’s restlessness broke into words.

“As I explained to Linda, your grandfather Dono was the one with the past.” Ganz turned back to Edgemont. “Van here has no charges or convictions on his record.”

“I’m glad for that,” Edgemont said.

“Glad because I’m not a criminal or glad because I haven’t been caught?” said Shaw.

“Either might be a point in your favor. Let me describe what we’re looking for.” She leaned forward. “We need someone to beta-test the security at one of our recently acquired facilities. A warehouse where we intend to hold goods on behalf of import clients on the Pacific Rim. The contract with the firm who currently provides guards and alarm maintenance is up for renewal. Mr. Rohner believes strongly in stress-testing any prospective system, physical or technological, before we invest.”

“And I would be providing the stress.”

“Exactly.”

“Van is especially good at that,” Ganz said. “I can vouch.”

“Why me?” said Shaw. “There must be a dozen security companies who’d be salivating to take potshots at a competitor’s work.”

Edgemont shrugged minutely. Shaw thought he glimpsed something like resignation behind her polite smile.

“You said you haven’t heard of Sebastien Rohner. He wouldn’t be what you’d call a celebrity in Europe, but he’s certainly better known there than in the States.”

“‘Rampage’ Rohner, the British tabloids call him.” Ganz smirked.

“He’s an enthusiast,” Edgemont said. “Sebastien made his first fortune at nineteen and founded Droma Solutions when he was twenty-six. The company’s growth was unprecedented. In the past three decades, he’s guided it through countless recessions and political upheavals to establish offices in fifteen nations. We’ve employed people in three times that number of countries.”

Shaw nodded. It was a speech Edgemont had given before. She lent it just the right amount of reverence.

“So Rohner can be excused a few eccentricities,” Ganz said, “like expeditions to recover sunken treasure.”

“Sebastien admires individualism,” said Edgemont. “His direct quote was, ‘Find me someone with the proper mind-set.’”

“Which you believe is a guy with my history,” Shaw said.

“And to find you I called the best criminal attorney in the city.” Edgemont touched her fingers to the back of Ganz’s hand. Ganz flushed lightly. “Ephraim says your grandfather was extremely skilled. And that you might be even better.”

Shaw looked out the window. Across a narrow stretch of Lake Union, the beautifully rusted silos of Gas Works Park were surrounded by families enjoying the first bright weekend in recent memory. Grass covered the slopes outside the fenced silos, the lawn so lush after the wet spring that the green hills shimmered as if lit from within.

“I’ve got the knack,” he said. “What’s the job?”

“The proposition is simple. A small piece of art from Mr. Rohner’s private collection will be placed in the warehouse. You’ll be told where, but no more than that. Mr. Rohner insists on real-world conditions.”

“Your real conditions sound like they’ll lead to a real jail cell.”

“We thought you might have that concern. This trial will be fully legal and documented. I have a contract drafted, and I’ve engaged Ephraim not only to find you but to be a witness as to why Droma is employing you.”

Ganz nodded. “If you want, we can also record Linda on video making a statement to that effect.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said. “Mr. Rohner decided your incentive should be on a sliding scale. Your fee for taking the job and providing a summary analysis of the system’s potential weaknesses is three thousand dollars. If you can lay hands on the art yourself, regardless of what happens after, that’s an additional fee of the same amount. And if you manage to take the artwork without setting off the alarm or being caught by any security staff on-site, add another four thousand to the total. Ten in all.”

“If the guards know I’m coming, the job’s over before it starts,” said Shaw. “They can sit on the art and nail me the second I show.”

“They won’t be told,” Edgemont said. “That wouldn’t be a proper test. None of the staff will know that anything is out of the ordinary in their usual routine.”

“What’s the time frame?”

“We’d like your analysis, at a minimum, within one week.”

“That’s very tight.”

“Mr. Rohner is very driven,” she said.

Corporate speak for impatient, Shaw mused. Normally he’d want twice that much time for casing a target and prepping a job. But he could use the money. He had some eccentric ventures of his own.

And if Edgemont was on the level, Shaw wasn’t risking prison. That was practically a bonus in itself.

“The pay structure’s off,” he said. “You want a rush job. I’ll have to devote all my time and purchase gear. Five thousand up front. Another ten if I get away clean. You can forget that stuff about counting coup with the art. If I don’t manage to escape with the prize, what’s the point? Your security team still caught me.”

“That’s a two-thirds increase on the initial payment and half again on the final total. Fifteen thousand is too expensive.”

Shaw smiled. “What’s the billing rate for a top attorney? Eight hundred an hour? You want an expert, you pay in arrears for the time acquiring the expertise. Plus, I’m betting on myself. If the vendor is worth your investment, you’ll have saved yourself five grand.”

Edgemont gave a polite chuckle. “Mr. Rohner might appreciate your confidence.”

“Does the new system have aggressive countermeasures?” Shaw asked.

“Pardon?”

“Shock plates. Tear gas. A bear trap that will cut my hand off. Anything like that.”

The personal attorney looked as if Shaw had suddenly spit on the table. “I don’t know the particulars of the system myself, but no. Certainly not. We wouldn’t endorse something of that nature.”

“I’ll want that in writing,” Shaw said. “I’ll want it all in writing, including the fact that this conversation took place. The full details of how Rohner or Droma or whoever is asking me to break into their property and take something of value all while avoiding company personnel. With an exemption from property damage.”

“Within reason,” Edgemont countered. “You can’t burn down one of our buildings, to cite a random example.”

“Shucks. That was my plan.”

“He’s joking,” Ganz said quickly. “He does that.”

Edgemont nodded. “I have an agreement drafted. I’ll confirm that the proof-of-concept has no . . . countermeasures, you said? that might cause harm and add a clause to that effect. And that so long as you abide by the terms, you’ll be exempt from all suits or action, now or in the future.”

Shaw had met a few lawyers and was always amazed by their ability to make jargon sound like an actual conversation.

He turned to Ganz. “You’ll review the contract?”

“Why not?” Ganz said. “Since you’re the one taking all the risks.”

Shaw saw Edgemont’s gaze flick to his facial scars before smoothly moving on, down to her clutch purse. She drew a business card from a slim case made of sterling silver with a floral design of pavé diamonds.

“I’ll have the papers to you by tonight,” she said, handing Shaw the card. “Call me if you have any questions. Assuming everything in writing meets with your approval, may I tell Mr. Rohner we have an agreement?”

Shaw shrugged. “Like Ephraim said, why not?”

Halfway through the meal, Edgemont set down her fork to take a sip of tea. She considered Van over the rim of the glass.

“If the prototype had included a bear trap, or something that lethal,” she said, “would you have turned us down?”

Shaw finished his bite of filet mignon and smiled.

“No,” he said. “I would have demanded hazard pay.”