The danger with diamonds, p.24
The Danger with Diamonds, page 24
Beside her, Cole rushed forward, his hand fisted. He struck out, his fist connecting with the guard’s jaw.
The man stumbled back a step, but his grip remained firm on the gun.
The door opened behind them, and an instant later, a gun barrel pressed into Isabelle’s back.
A man’s voice followed. “Let go.”
Isabelle’s breath whooshed out, and she forced herself to release the guard’s weapon.
The guard jerked back two steps, his gun immediately swinging toward Cole. “Lina wants to see these two.”
“I’ll take care of it, but first, check them for weapons.”
Isabelle recognized the voice behind her now from last night at the ball. He had been one of Brinkerhoff’s bodyguards.
The guard checked Cole first, relieving him of his pistol and cell phone. Isabelle stiffened when the guard moved to her and patted down her legs and stomach. He pulled her cell phone from her pocket, she helpless to stop him.
“Now we’re going to take a nice walk through the auction and to the back room.” The pressure from the gun barrel eased slightly, but a hand clamped onto her shoulder. “Try anything with me and your girlfriend dies first.”
Cole’s eyes met hers before he trained his gaze on the man currently holding her captive. “I understand.”
Lars heard the lock scrape back and whipped around to face the door. What now? As much as he wanted to get out of the confined storage room, he was willing to bet that nothing good would come of their captors opening the door again so soon. He stepped in front of Marit. If they wanted her, they’d have to get past him first.
The door flew open.
“Get in!” The brusque voice was Ivan’s.
“All right. There’s no need to shove.”
Lars’s eyes widened. Cole.
Behind him, Marit shifted, appearing at his side as Isabelle and Cole entered the confined space. Cole had barely cleared the doorway when Ivan yanked the door closed behind them and the sound of the bolt sliding into place echoed through the small room.
Cole glanced from Lars to Marit. “Great. We found you.”
“Are you kidding?” Lars said. Maybe you had to be slightly mad to be a CIA operative. “You were supposed to be the cavalry. You know, the one who comes in to save the day.” He gestured to the cramped room that contained nothing but empty shelves and a large safe. “If getting locked in here with us was part of your grand plan, it was a lousy one.”
“You didn’t give me much warning. I’m improvising as I go.”
“In other words, you don’t have a plan.”
Cole studied the room. “I’m working on it.”
“Brinkerhoff, Lina Wimmer, and Steven Powell have the Falcon Point jewelry,” Marit said.
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“And they’re going to kill us when the people at the auction leave,” Lars said.
“No, they won’t.”
New hope shot through Lars. “Did you send for reinforcements?”
“I placed a call, but I think we should proceed as though we’re on our own.”
That wasn’t exactly what Lars wanted to hear. “Fine. Do you have your gun?”
“Nope. Ivan the Terrible took it.”
“Did they take your phones too?” Marit asked.
“Yes,” Isabelle said. She was running her hands along the empty shelves as though she expected to find something hidden there.
“Okay. Let me get this straight,” Lars said. “We have no weapons and no phones. We’re locked in a storage room surrounded by armed guards. And you think we’re going to walk out of here.”
“Or run,” Cole said. “Not sure about our exit speed yet.”
Isabelle had moved from her search of the empty shelves to an examination of the locked safe. “There’s nothing here that we can use,” she said. “It’ll have to be the door hinges.”
Cole grinned. “See. They may have taken our guns and phones, but we still have Isabelle.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I was hoping one of the construction workers might have left behind a tool we could use but no luck. We need something narrow enough to fit beneath the head of the hinge pin but strong enough to wiggle it loose.” She looked from Cole to Lars to Marit. “What have you got?”
Lars dug his hands into his pockets and brought out a wallet filled with flimsy credit cards, the receipt for his U-bahn ticket, and a few coins. A quick glance at the objects in Cole’s hand told him that his cousin had only upped him by a set of keys.
Marit was still rifling through her purse. “What about this?” She pulled out a metal nail file.
“That’s perfect,” Isabelle said. She took the nail file from Marit and handed it to Cole with a triumphant look. “You’re better off than you thought. You’ve still got me and Marit.”
Chapter 35
Cole used Marit’s nail file to work the last bolt free. Who knew having a model with him would be so useful?
Beside him, Lars stood with both hands on the door to keep it in place. Isabelle and Marit had alternated between helping Lars and taking the bolts from Cole as he freed them. He handed the last one to Marit, but he kept the nail file in his hand. It wasn’t the best weapon, but it was better than nothing.
Voices carried from the back room, Lina’s words distinguishable when Brinkerhoff asked for the next auction piece.
His voice low, Lars asked, “Now what?”
“Marit, come over here with Lars,” Cole said. “When I say, Lars is going to pull the door open. If you both tuck yourselves in the corner behind the door, it will protect you in case anyone pulls a gun and bullets start flying.”
“Do you know how crazy you sound right now?” Lars asked. “You’re telling us to hide while you charge into a room where there are men with guns.”
It was crazy, but Cole wasn’t going to tell Lars that. If they waited for Brinkerhoff and his men to come back after the auction, they were all going to end up dead anyway.
“If you have a better idea, I’m listening,” Cole whispered.
Lars fell silent.
“Well?” Cole asked.
“I’m thinking.”
Marit stepped forward. “We could wait for the police to get here.”
Cole debated whether to share the grim truth that if the cops arrived, they were dead anyway. No way Powell, Brinkerhoff, or Lina were going to leave witnesses to what they were doing, and a few dead people would give them the perfect distraction to get away. “I think it’s riskier to wait,” Cole said.
Lars’s gaze met his, and understanding illuminated his face. Lars glanced at Marit briefly before he nodded. “I’m trusting you on this.”
The weight of Lars’s words pressed in on him. Lars was trusting him. So were Marit and Isabelle. If he messed this up, he could not only end up dead, but three people he cared deeply about could die right beside him.
Brinkerhoff spoke to Steven and one of his guards. At least four people were in the back room. If he could go in right after they took the next piece for auction, Cole would be certain the extra guard and either Lina or Brinkerhoff would be in the auction room. Isabelle put her hand on his shoulder and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “We go in together.”
Cole swallowed and nodded. Isabelle’s assessment of the situation must have matched his, or she would have offered another alternative, even if it was waiting for the police, as Marit had suggested. “Get ready.”
Marit tucked herself back where the door would soon open, concern flashing in her eyes. “What about Isabelle?”
“I’ll hide over here.” Isabelle took position behind Cole on the now-unhinged side of the door.
Cole pressed his ear to the door. No one was speaking. Had Brinkerhoff already taken the next item into the auction? Go now, or wait until they were sure the number was manageable? A sense of urgency coursed through him. Go now, he decided. “On three,” Cole whispered. He held up three fingers. He lowered one just as a new voice carried to him.
“Wait.” Cole flashed a stop signal with his hand.
“What are you doing back here?” Brinkerhoff demanded.
“Sorry, sir,” a man said. “She pushed past me.”
“You couldn’t stop her?” Derision colored Brinkerhoff’s voice.
“I assure you, after you hear my offer, you won’t have any reason to be mad at him,” the woman said. Even though the words were spoken in German, Cole caught the familiar cadence in the voice. Jasmine?
“What’s your offer?” Steven Powell demanded.
While Jasmine started speaking about the possibility of purchasing the remaining jewels for an impressive sum of money, Cole turned to Isabelle. “The woman in there. It’s Jasmine.”
“Describe her,” Isabelle said.
“A younger, darker version of my grandmother but with a wicked right hook.”
Isabelle’s lips quirked up at the description. She put her hand on his back. Her silent cue that she was ready.
Voices raised on the other side of the door.
“I don’t care who you say you are,” Brinkerhoff said. “Search her for weapons.”
“Boy, you had better keep your hands off me,” Jasmine responded with her typical don’t-mess-with-me attitude.
Cole held up three fingers again. He counted down quickly. The moment his last finger lowered, he curled his hand into a fist and tightened his grip on the nail file with the other.
Lars pulled the door open in a quick jerk of movement, and Cole rushed into the back room. Jasmine stood beside the guard, Lina behind her, with Brinkerhoff and Powell right in front of the storage room.
Brinkerhoff instantly turned toward Cole, and Cole swiped at him with the nail file. It cut across his cheek, and the man jumped back.
Isabelle rushed into the room, her fist connecting with Steven Powell’s jaw and sending him stumbling.
Brinkerhoff’s hand lifted to where Cole had drawn blood. “Ivan!” he shouted.
In a blur of movement, Jasmine struck Ivan before he could draw his gun.
The door to the auction burst open and knocked into Jasmine. A second guard rushed in, and his weapon appeared in his hand before Isabelle could reach him.
He lifted the pistol and aimed.
Cole’s heart seized as a bullet exploded in the same instance Jasmine threw her shoulder against the guard to send the shot wide.
The bullet splintered into the door jamb leading to the storage room, and Cole prayed Lars and Marit would stay safely out of the line of fire.
Shards of wood dropped to the floor around her. Marit pressed herself farther into the corner. A man shouted, and through the gap between the hingeless door and the wall, she saw the guard raise his gun again. Isabelle swung her leg out and clipped his knee. He staggered back a few steps. Someone else jumped forward, blocking Marit’s view of everything but the table covered in jewelry boxes.
Another gunshot pierced the door only inches above them.
Marit gasped. “Lars.” She leaned closer. “We need to get out of here. We’re sitting ducks.”
He nodded, his expression grim. “After those gunshots, the people attending the auction are either going to scatter or they’re going to take advantage of the chaos.”
“I don’t want to wait to find out which one.”
“Me neither.”
A third gunshot sounded, and the storage room door jerked back.
“Get down!” Lars grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor.
There was another crash. It was followed by the sound of raining boxes.
“Was that the jewelry?”
“Yeah. The table’s down.” Lars’s voice was overshadowed by the sound of another gunshot. “This room’s a trap. We’d be safer out there.” He rose to his feet. “If we can get to the table, we can shelter behind that. Give me a three-second head start. If no one notices what I’m doing, follow after me. If they come for me, stay here.” He held her gaze. “No matter what.”
It was a promise she wasn’t willing to make. With her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest, Marit released a tense breath. “Just be careful.”
“You too.”
He peered around the door. There was another resounding thud. A man shouted, and then Lars was gone. Marit rose to her feet and peeked into the other room. Lars had reached the table and dropped out of sight. Closer to the other door, Isabelle and Jasmine were working together to disarm Ivan and the other guard. Cole threw a punch at Brinkerhoff. Marit didn’t wait to see it land. She darted around the door and sprinted across the room.
She reached the table and dropped down behind it as another thud and painful grunt sounded behind her.
Lars gave her an anxious look. “You okay?”
“Yeah. But there’s no way we can reach the door from here.”
“Not yet,” Lars said, determination in his voice. “But we will. And when we do, we’re taking the jewelry with us.” He scooped up the jewelry boxes closest to him and started emptying them into his pockets.
Marit grabbed a couple of bracelets and a set of earrings, opened her purse, and dropped them in. She seized another set of earrings, and then she saw Lars’s great-grandmother’s wedding ring box.
Another gunshot. A bullet hit the wall above Lars’s head. Simultaneously, Lars and Marit dropped lower. The sounds of violence continued behind them. Marit scooted sideways, stretching to claim the battered box containing the thin gold band. She dropped it into her purse. Movement at the other end of the table caught her attention.
“Lars! Brinkerhoff’s taken the tiara.”
The jeweler had one hand pressed against a bloody lip. In the other, he held the diamond headpiece. He swerved to avoid Isabelle’s approach, heading directly for the door.
Like a sprinter from a starting block, Lars took off from his crouched position and tore across the room. Ivan swung around, aiming his gun at him. Lars launched himself at Brinkerhoff, tackling him to the ground. Ivan hesitated, his target now unclear.
And suddenly, Jasmine was there. She pressed her gun between Ivan’s shoulder blades. “Drop the weapon.”
Isabelle shook her hand, hoping the motion would stop the throbbing that had centered there from the last punch she had thrown. With Jasmine holding Ivan at gunpoint, she searched the man for additional weapons.
A second pistol at his ankle, a knife strapped to his calf. Zip ties in his shoulder holster along with an extra magazine of ammunition. The man was prepared. She’d give him that.
Cole released the other guard to Jasmine and moved to the doorway to help Lars contain Brinkerhoff.
Isabelle used one of the zip ties to secure Ivan’s hands behind his back. She handed one to Jasmine and another to Cole. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Cole tied up his prisoner.
Isabelle moved to where Steven Powell lay crumpled at the side of the room. He had knocked himself unconscious when he’d hit his head against the wall after taking a punch to the jaw. He deserved much worse than that. Isabelle shook her hand again.
“Are you injured?” Marit asked Isabelle.
“I’ll be fine,” Isabelle said.
Marit scooped up more of the spilled jewelry. “What are we going to do about the people who were at the auction? At least a half dozen pieces were already sold, including the sapphire necklace.”
“I took video of the people in there, including when the necklace was sold,” Cole said. “Hopefully, the police can use facial recognition to ID who bought the other pieces.”
“At least we got most of it back,” Lars said, but his lips pressed into a firm line. “I can’t believe they sold off our great-grandmother’s necklace though. And the diamond-and-emerald earrings.”
“I know, but give the police a chance to get it all back,” Cole said.
“Where are the police anyway?” Isabelle asked. “I thought they would be here by now.”
Marit looked around the room. “And where is Lina?”
“She was here a minute ago.” Jasmine reached for the doorknob and yanked it open. The moment she looked through the doorway, she lifted her hands as though in surrender. “The police are here.”
Two uniformed officers rushed in, their words spoken in clipped German. Everyone’s hands went up, and the officers confiscated the weapons.
“She’s getting away,” Isabelle told the officer closest to her.
“All of them are,” Marit added.
“No one is getting away,” the officer said. “We have men outside. Everyone who goes outside is being taken into custody.”
“I hope you don’t plan to arrest us,” Cole said. “We’re the ones who called you.”
“The call we received was from a woman.”
“That was me,” Isabelle lied. No way she was going to try to explain that a ghost had made the call. She wiggled her fingers to draw attention to her hand that was still raised over her head. “Can we put our hands down now? We’ve already secured your prisoners.”
“She’s with you?”
“Yes.” Cole nodded. “They all are.”
“The jewelry they were selling was stolen from our safe-deposit box in the bank robbery last week,” Lars added.
“You can put your hands down,” he said. “I’m Officer Binder. That’s Officer Wolf. We’ll need to confiscate all of this jewelry and enter it into evidence.”
“Oh, no.” Lars shook his head. “After what we went through to get it back, I’m not letting this out of my sight.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I must insist,” the officer said. “We have to process it all for fingerprints and catalog it for the file.”
“I’ve already provided a detailed inventory and photos of what was taken,” Lars said.
“And you aren’t going to find any fingerprints,” Isabelle added. “They never handled any of it unless they were wearing gloves.”
