Cruz shifted his leg. He was looking tired, even a bit gaunt.
“You don’t look so good.”
“I was shot.”
“A flesh wound.”
“They call it a flesh wound?” said Cruz. “Because it doesn’t kill you.”
“You want to call it a day?”
“No,” said Cruz. “There are a few other things you need to know.”
Yo-Yo came out of the kitchen with the coffee pot. “Thought you might like coffee. I can get you a beer if you like, but seeing you’re on duty and all . . .”
“Coffee’s fine,” said Cruz.
“You mind me asking a question?” Yo-Yo bobbed in place.
“There any job openings?”
“For?”
“You know. Ninja stuff.”
Cruz closed his eyes.
“Cooks are pretty invisible,” said Yo-Yo. “Nobody much notices us. We slip in and out of kitchens. Sneak up on you from behind before you even know I’m there.”
Cruz opened his eyes. “You don’t want to be a ninja assassin.”
Yo-Yo stopped bobbing. “I don’t?”
“For starters,” said Cruz, “we don’t get paid.”
“Really.”
“And we’re not allowed to have sex.”
Yo-Yo swayed from side to side. “You’re shitting me.”
“Hand to god,” said Cruz. “You have to take a vow of celibacy.”
“Jesus,” said Yo-Yo. “No pay, cel . . . cel . . .”
“Celibacy.”
“That’s a shitty job,” said Yo-Yo.
“You have no idea,” said Cruz.
YO-YO CLEARED THE table, took the dirty dishes back to the kitchen.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“I got shot,” said Cruz. “My leg hurts.”
“You know where you find ‘sympathy’ in the dictionary, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” said Cruz, “between ‘shit’ and ‘syphilis.’ It’s a really old joke, and it’s not very funny.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You want to know about Black Ice or you want to keep doing stand-up?”
“What I want to know is how a gangster such as Boris Lukin is tied to a covert government program such as Black Ice.”
“Show me those photos again.”
Thumps took the envelope out. “You recognize someone, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“And you’re going to share with the rest of the class.”
“Don’t be a baby.” Cruz arranged the photos in three rows. “The first two photos are easy.”
“You and Gage.”
“These seven are probably the Black Ice team minus Gage.”
That left two photos. Both men.
“I’m guessing that the swarthy fellow with the beard and glasses is Sorin Dalca.” Cruz touched each photo in turn. “The one-percenter in the bespoke suit and Christian Lacroix tie is Porter Kincaide.”
“Wow,” said Thumps. “Porter Kincaide.”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
“No clue.”
“That’s because you don’t read The Economist.”
“I must have let my subscription lapse.”
Cruz held up the photo. “You know, you’re not that funny.”
“Porter Kincaide,” said Thumps. “Para Bellum Global. World leader in all things that go boom. Company is a regular guest at congressional hearings on corporate malfeasance.”
Cruz smiled. “Thought you said your subscription lapsed.”
“CNN. Fox News.” Thumps took a moment to put the new pieces in place. “The cellphone we found in Greeley’s locker?”
“Best guess,” said Cruz. “Kincaide’s private number at Para Bellum.”
“Para Bellum being one of the companies that Black Ice hit.”
“Hard,” said Cruz. “Word on the street is that Kincaide lost tens of millions.”
“You know,” said Thumps, “this is beginning to sound like Mission: Impossible, but without the cool masks and the clever dialogue.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“And Boris Lukin?”
“Lukin’s organization controls all the cargo traffic in and out of the Port of Miami. He and Kincaide had an understanding.”
“As in Kincaide would pay Lukin to move restricted technologies around the globe.”
“We think that Kincaide somehow found out about Black Ice, passed that information on to Lukin.”
“So, Black Ice had a leak.”
“Maybe,” said Cruz. “We never were able to pinpoint the source.”
Thumps rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck. “So, back to Sorin Dalca. He sets up the Vault, dies in a sailing accident, and the access codes die with him.”
“Which brings us,” said Cruz, “to the second part of the problem. About a month back, Gage came home from work to find an old friend waiting for her.”
“Sorin Dalca?”
“Back from the dead.”
Thumps brushed some crumbs off the table. “Sailing accidents in French Polynesia not being as fatal as first reported.”
Cruz shifted his leg again. “You’re probably wondering why Dalca would reappear. I mean, he’s dead. He has the access code to millions. He can reach out and help himself, and no one would know.”
“Okay,” said Thumps. “I’ll bite. After all the effort to disappear, why does he break cover?”
“Did I mention that Dalca is paranoid?” Cruz beat a quick rhythm on the table. “According to Gage, something spooked him. Dalca thought that the Vault had been compromised, and that if he tried to access the money, he would be exposed.”
“Is it safe?” Thumps tried to capture Laurence Olivier’s voice and intonation.
“What?”
“Marathon Man,” said Thumps, “but without the evil dentist.”
“Dalca is desperate,” said Cruz. “There’s all that money within his reach. But he’s afraid to touch it. What does he do?”
Thumps thought about it for a moment. “Do a test run on the Vault? See what happens? Take a chance?”
“Nope,” said Cruz. “Dalca wants Gage to help him hit Para Bellum again. New nest egg, new secure account.”
“You’re kidding.”
“If she doesn’t help him, Dalca threatens to sell her name and her involvement with Black Ice to Kincaide, along with the hint that Gage knows where the money that Black Ice originally took from Para Bellum might be found.”
“I’m guessing that she said no.”
“She did,” said Cruz. “And contacted us.”
“Us being?”
“You know,” said Cruz. “Us.”
Thumps started smiling. Then he started chuckling. “What’s funny?”
“Here I thought you were protecting Gage,” said Thumps.
“But she’s just bait, isn’t she? You’re hoping to find Dalca and the money. You don’t give a shit what happens to her.”
Cruz tried to look concerned. “Not true.”
“So, who grabbed her?”
“Could be Kincaide’s men,” said Cruz. “But my money is on Dalca. Kincaide’s too smart to stick his neck out. He’ll sit back and let Dalca bring Gage to him. Good news is Dalca’s not going to hurt her. If he wants to be paid, he needs her healthy and chatty.”
“Then who shot you?”
“Don’t think they wanted to kill me,” said Cruz. “Could have been Dalca. Could have been Para Bellum. I think they were hoping to scare me off.”
Thumps sat back in the chair. He could feel the beginnings of exhaustion coming on. Always after a meal. Most unpleasant. Most unwelcome.
“You shouldn’t have had that milkshake,” said Cruz.
“You going to stay at the villa?”
“No,” said Cruz. “That place is blown. I’ll find somewhere else to hole up.”
Thumps got to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “I know the perfect spot.”