The Romanov Ransom

14

DG?” Remi asked when Sam showed her the text.

“Dead guy,” Sam said.

“Quite the top secret code.”

“Gets the job done.” He pulled to the side of the road and called Rube. “What do you have?” he asked, holding the phone so both he and Remi could listen.

“Durin Kahrs is his real name. Definitely has a record. Believe it or not, jewel thief.”

“A jewel thief?” Sam repeated.

“Part of an international ring. At least according to the file the FBI has on the guy. He’s suspected in a number of heists in Europe and the U.S.”

“Guess you can clear his warrants.”

“What’ve you found on your end?”

Sam told him what they’d learned from Zakaria’s cousin. “I’m guessing whatever was in that backpack is what we’re looking for.”

“You think he had it the whole time?” Rube asked.

“Looks that way.”

“But why come after you?”

“Undoubtedly, our untimely arrival,” Sam replied. “If I had to guess, Zakaria and the Hoffler brothers weren’t the only ones he was double-crossing. He hoped to use us as a distraction.”

“Pretty bold.”

“When you think about it,” Sam said, “what’d he have to lose?”

“His life,” Remi replied.

“What about the weapon he used?” Sam asked. “You get anything back on that serial number I sent you?”

“I was getting to that next. Stolen from Frankfurt a few days before a big heist in the same area. Same group suspected in a number of other heists throughout Europe.”

“You have an address on the guy?”

“Two. One’s in Germany. Locally, we show an address in Marrakesh.” He read it to them. “Current as of three months ago.”

“That’s pretty recent.”

“Look, Sam. You shouldn’t be involved in this. Too dangerous.”

Remi raised her brows at that. “You do realize who you’re talking to, Rube?”

“I do,” Rube said, his voice filled with resignation. “Just hoping that he might listen, for once.”

“Appreciate your concern, old friend,” Sam said as he started the car and shifted it into drive, pulling into traffic. “But Zakaria was kidnapped on my watch. And unless you can miraculously come up with a rescue team in the next ten hours without going through all the red tape, the least we can do is check out that address.”

“Just be careful.”

“Will do,” he said, disconnecting the call. He glanced over at Remi. “You’re okay with that?”

“I’ll check my calendar and see if I have anything more important scheduled.” She picked up her phone, typing something on the screen.

He glanced over, saw she was actually entering the address into the map. “Any luck rescheduling that manicure?”

“Very funny. Make a right at the next intersection.”

Durin Kahrs lived in a four-storied apartment complex about twenty minutes south of the hotel. Typical of the buildings in the era, the only windows facing out were high, to allow a breeze in, and narrow, to protect against the desert sun. In other words, there was no chance of breaking in from the outside. Sam drove past the address twice, checking the area, before parking down the street. They entered through a wrought iron gate that led into a fairly large courtyard in the center of the complex where children played under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Each apartment door faced into the courtyard, the upper floors accessed via two enclosed staircases in opposite corners. Sam and Remi smiled at the women, then climbed the nearest flight of stairs to the second floor, walking around the balcony until they came to Durin’s apartment.

Sam knocked on the door, not expecting anyone to answer, more to determine what sort of lock was installed and if there was an alarm. There was not. “Let’s go,” he said, taking note of the rest of the complex as he and Remi walked toward the staircase. No way to get into that apartment without being noticed. Not in the daylight at least.

“See what you needed to see?”

“So far.”

“And?”

He smiled at her. “Date night. Dress in black.”

Remi linked her arm through his as they took the stairs down. “I love date night.”