Chapter Forty-Three

Tuesday afternoon

  

Brack had previously discovered that life was easier when he had a good lawyer to get him out of jams. Today looked like he’d retained the Wonder Woman of barristers.

He tooled down Peachtree in the turbo hatchback, thinking he was luckier than he deserved to be. Except that Mutt was still recovering in the hospital and no one had yet found Regan or Cassie. So he still had to remain in town. Oh, and Darcy was still marrying the peckerwood.

His pocket vibrated as he slowed for a light. Darcy was calling.

“Speak of the devil,” he said.

“Whatever,” she said. “Sounds like you survived your night in jail.”

“Best sleep I had in months. That’s after they moved me into solitary confinement.”

“For everyone else’s safety, no doubt,” she said. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

Brack didn’t know how to respond to that.

She continued. “Justin has issues about his things.”

“Well, to be honest, I was playing a bad game of chicken with his Range Rover when he shut it down. The situation could have ended much worse.” He didn’t add how close he’d been to ending it all in an intentional head-on collision.

After a pause, she said, “I wish you’d have totaled it.”

Brack’s turn to pause, surprised.

“Then I would have had to pay for it. Probably better for my bank balance that it washed out the way it did. I already have to replace my Porsche, you know.”

“I know.”

“Of course you know,” he said. “You were kind enough to film a clip and put the carcass—as you put it—on Atlanta’s number-one news channel.”

“How could I pass up such an opportunity?”

“So what’s next?”

She said, “Vito’s in custody. Townsend’s out of the picture for the time being. We still need to find Cassie. And when we do, I’ll bet we find Regan.”

Brack said, “We never did find out what was in those warehouses—both the ones by the airport with the old guard, and those the kid tipped Mutt to that the bikers visited at night.”

“Maybe you should check it out,” she said. “I’m going back through Vito’s assets to see if I can find any place Regan could be that Cassie might have known about. Let’s regroup later.”

“What does the fiancé say of our alliance?”

“This is business. I don’t care what he has to say about that.”

  

While Darcy researched Vito’s properties to find where Cassie might be, Brack picked up Tara, and the two of them headed to the warehouse where Mutt and he got into their little disagreement and Mutt kicked him out of the car. On the way, they stopped and purchased a set of bolt cutters, a sledge hammer, and a stout pry bar. They had most of the day left before the bikers returned in the dark and he planned on a heck of a lot of breaking and entering.

Trolling the run-down streets of the old warehouse district once again, Brack had to think hard to remember exactly which warehouse. After three failed attempts, they found the one Mutt and he had been shown by young Jacob. Brack recognized the dock by its recent refurbishing.

He and Tara looked around, mostly for motorcycles. No other vehicles were in sight. They got out of the Mazda and carried the tools to the doors. After examining the lock on the side door next to the roll ups, Brack pulled out two thin screwdrivers from their bag.

A voice behind them said, “Whatcha doin?”

To say Brack was startled was an understatement. When he recognized the voice he turned. “Jacob?”

The lanky boy who’d previously guided Mutt and Brack to this location stood behind Brack and Tara. Jacob had managed to successfully sneak up on them both, an extremely unnerving experience.

Tara said, “We want to see what’s inside this place.”

“Oh,” the boy said.

Brack said, “I’m afraid I forgot to bring some baseball cards with me. We’ll come back with some.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

Thanks to some training Darcy had given Brack when she’d lived in Charleston, Brack picked the lock. The door swung open to reveal a dark cavernous space. A keypad glowed next to the door, flashing red. No alarm sounded, so Brack guessed the alert signal went somewhere other than a security agency. Although that meant the police were unlikely to show up, he wondered who might. Then he thought if anyone did, it would be Levin and his pathetic road hogs. With their boss in jail, Brack figured they’d be itching for even greater revenge that their barroom bust. He decided they needed to work quickly.

Inside next to the keypad Tara found the light switches. When she flipped them on, the three of them saw a fairly large space, probably a hundred feet wide by three-hundred feet deep. Six large wooden crates stacked in the center were nailed shut. Using the pry bar on one of them, Brack worked the lid, one side at a time. Tara used the handle of the sledge to help pry it up. After about five minutes of sweaty work, the lid came free. They lifted it off and sat it on top of another crate, then looked inside.

Brack stood in shock.

Tara screamed.

Jacob looked at both of them. “What is it?”

In a hoarse voice, Brack said, “Elephant tusks.”

Each had been completely removed from the head of a slaughtered elephant so the only thing shipped was the ivory.

Vito really needed to burn in hell. This was federal. International.

Brack called Nichols and told him what they found. And he suggested Nichols get here fast in case the bikers were already on their way. Before any motorcycles showed up, Nichols arrived with ten uniformed officers. Five minutes behind him, Darcy brought her film crew and set up camp. Brack knew that if the contents of all the crates were similar, this was big news.

What would become the largest find of illegal ivory outside of the Atlanta airport made the headline news. And Darcy got the scoop. Further, for what Brack and Tara thought would create good public awareness of the global crime—along with great fundraising possibilities for the local Piedmont Preserve—Darcy interviewed Tara on the spot. The crates of tusks stood behind them, an ominous backdrop. Nichols neglected to press any charges for breaking and entering. As far as he knew, Brack and Tara had found the door open.

With its newfound publicity, not to mention the public outrage that would reverberate around the globe for the next several months, the Piedmont Preserve needed Tara there. So directly after her filmed debut was finished, she took a cab back to her apartment, got her vehicle, then headed to work.

  

Well into the next day and more than two weeks from when Brack had arrived in town, Darcy and one of her administrative assistants at the network pored over a list of assets they’d compiled from Vito’s businesses. It was Darcy who found a listing for a home on Lake Lanier, about sixty miles northeast of the city.

When she met Brack at Mutt’s house later that night, she handed him the forty-five, which he’d left under the seat of Justin’s Range Rover.

Nichols called ten minutes after midnight.

“There’s nobody at Vito’s penthouse,” Nichols said. “Same with the one in West Paces Ferry.”

“What?” Brack said.

“Nobody. I got a judge to sign the warrants based on the disappearance of Cassie and the ivory we found. I have a dozen officers at each place. That’s two jurisdictions involved. And now I’m going to be on the short list for ball washer at the next Brave’s game.”

“Neither Cassie nor Regan were there?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nichols asked. “Nobody. Nada. Zilch. Both places are deserted.”

“Darcy just found out there’s another house on Lake Lanier.”

Nichols said, “There’s no way I can ask for another search warrant in yet another jurisdiction. Not after being zero for two, plus twenty-four officers on overtime.”

“You know what this means?” Brack asked.

“Yes. It means before I get fired I’ll have to clean up another one of your messes.”

“Don’t be so negative. You’ve already caught the man himself. Beat it out of him.” Brack wanted to slam the receiver, but that was before expensive iPhones.

Darcy said, “He can’t get a warrant?”

“No.”

She grabbed her handbag. “I guess it’s you and me.”

“You better call what’s-his-name.”

She stopped in mid-motion. “Excuse me?”

“Call Justin. Tell him where we’ll be.”

“I don’t work for you,” she said.

Brack said, “Get your uptight feminist panties out of the bunch they’re in and call your fiancé.” He walked past her toward the Mazda. Without turning to look at her, he continued, “I don’t like the guy one bit, but he deserves to know where you’ll be.”