The smile vanished. “Don’t worry. No one will be able to trace the robbery back to us.”
“To you.” Kline was sure the man he’d hired would never be a threat to him. The man didn’t even know Kline’s name, knew nothing about him. The other two had never met Kline, and it would stay that way. Kline knew what he was doing. He was better than good. “Who else was in the bank?”
“Three customers.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“No, and no issues there.”
“And the stuff?” Kline asked.
The man moved to the trunk of his car and opened it. Inside was a bulky black bag. “We got everything you told us to,” he said.
“No traces left behind?” Kline asked.
The man shook his head. “I know how to do this, and we were good. The black clothes have already been burned, and one of my associates is heading south with the stolen vehicle. It’ll be discarded where no one will find it.”
“No one saw you in the tunnel systems?”
The man let out a tiny sigh, as if he didn’t like being questioned like this. “I’m telling you, everything went well. You have nothing to worry about.”
Kline couldn’t take a chance; he had to be careful. “For what I paid, that better be the case.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” the man repeated. Then he unzipped the black bag. “It’s all there.”
Kline walked over and looked into the bag. There was a drill and some other tools, papers and file folders, and small pouches he assumed held diamonds, gold, jewelry, and other valuables. The important things that people kept in their safety deposit boxes.
“You have a bag for your stuff?”
“Sure,” the man said.
He reached into the trunk and opened a similar black bag. Kline stepped forward and threw a few things into the second bag. Then he zipped it up and stepped back.
“Dispose of the rest as you wish, but be careful,” Kline said. “If you make a mistake, the police will be after you.”
The man zipped up the other bag and closed the trunk, the sound echoing in the garage. He turned around, eyes narrowed. “I know how to fence this stuff,” he said. “But we’ll wait several months before we sell anything.”
Kline nodded. “Your last payment will arrive in a month, after we’re certain there haven’t been complications.”
“That’s right,” the man said. “Good doing business with you.”
Kline didn’t say anything in goodbye, just walked back to his vehicle. The man got into the sedan, backed up, and drove down the ramp and around the corner. Kline waited until he couldn’t hear the sound of the engine anymore before getting into his sedan. He texted someone with a burner phone, and then he started the sedan and drove out of the parking garage.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After Jo signed for her belongings, a different uniformed officer drove Jo from the station to the Amyfinehouse Luxury Downtown Stay. The hotel wasn’t anything fancy, but it was reasonably priced and in the downtown area. She hadn’t been lying to Detective Holton. She had wanted to see Dallas, to just walk around the city and take in the sights. She’d googled places to stay when she’d arrived, and Amyfinehouse—although a little pricier than some hotels—fit the bill.
When the officer parked in front of the hotel, she thanked him and went into the lobby, then watched until his squad car pulled away from the curb and vanished. On the drive, she’d realized she was famished, so she walked a few blocks to Harwood Tavern, a local joint that was busy at that hour, the interior shadowy—a good place to be anonymous. It was midafternoon, but there were plenty of people eating and playing pool and watching sports on any of the numerous TVs throughout the place. She took a booth in a corner and ordered a Harwood burger with bacon jam and house aioli and a Coke. While she waited for her food, she mulled over the morning.
She’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. It had happened, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about that. She kept most of her emotions at bay, but she was more than a little irritated. The hostage-takers had put a lot of people in danger. What had the robbers wanted? They hadn’t been in the bank long enough to steal from all the safety deposit boxes, and they hadn’t worried about cash in the teller drawers or anywhere else. That puzzled her.
Then her thoughts turned to Rico Ortega. She was curious about him. Why would he go against bank protocol and challenge the robbers? He had to have known that was the wrong move, that his behavior might potentially put them all in harm’s way. Right? Was he just that kind of person, impulsive, someone who didn’t think, just acted, no matter what he’d been told to do?
A waiter brought her burger, and as she took a couple of bites, she pictured Rico on the phone, right before the hostage-takers had come in. He’d frowned, like she’d told Holton, clearly not happy about something. Had he been nervous, too? He could have been expecting the men’s appearance, and that was the reason why he’d been acting the way he had.
Law enforcement would be able to find out who had contacted him, and that might explain his reactions. She didn’t have that luxury on her own.
And what about the robbery investigation? She was now involved, a player in the whole thankfully bloodless game—at least so far. That was bad. The previous fall, she’d discovered a threat at a secret biolab in Colorado, and she feared Dale—a top man from the unnamed government agency whose plans she’d thwarted—would come after her at any sign of her popping her head up. Or worse yet, come after her father and sister. Dack owned a firm that specialized in security consulting and incident response for the wealthy, and he also offered training services. Given his expertise in those areas, he had settled Will and Avery in a small town in Florida, where they were safe. For now.
Jo ate some fries. What about herself? What happened if people from that government agency heard about her name in connection with the robbery at the bank and came after her? Would that lead them to Will and Avery? She couldn’t let that happen. She took another bite of her burger, still thinking about Rico and the entire robbery, wondering what all law enforcement would discover as they investigated.
She’d lost her appetite, so she got up, threw out her trash, and walked back to the hotel. When she reached her room, she checked to make sure no one but the maid had been inside. Once she felt safe, she had a sudden urge to take a shower. She had to rinse off the stench of the bank robbery and the smell of the storage room. She peeled off her clothes, then went into the bathroom and showered, letting the hot water pound her neck and shoulders. Finally, she got out and dressed again in one of a few pairs of jeans she had, along with a clean blouse. Feeling better, she sat on a small chair at a round table and video-called Dack. He answered after a couple of rings.
“Jo, how are you?” he asked, blue eyes sparkling.
He used a text-to-voice app, and as he typed, a tinny computer voice translated the words. The apps had improved, and he almost sounded human, although she still missed the sound of his real voice. She’d met him when they’d served together overseas, and a close friendship had formed. They’d been through a lot, especially on their final mission. When intelligence she’d gathered had turned out to be wrong, a fight had ensued. Dack had been captured by enemy insurgents, and they’d tortured him and cut out his tongue. She and Dack remained friends during his convalescence and after they’d both left the military. It had taken her a long time to forgive herself for what had happened, even though he had never for a moment blamed her.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Dallas,” she said. She hadn’t talked to him in a week or so, and she’d last been in Lubbock.
He raised his eyebrows. “Just passing through?”
She hesitated. “That was the plan. I thought I’d visit the Sixth Floor Museum to learn more about the JFK assassination, and check out downtown, then find a smaller, quieter town.”
He sensed something. “But?”
She smiled ruefully. “You won’t believe what happened.”
