Secret Scandal (Trinity Masters Book 7) Page 23

  “And actually it might be worth even less,” Jasper said, “because they’d have to auction it without ownership records.”

  “Could they do that?”

  “Auction houses aren’t known for their scruples. They could, but they’d probably get less for it.”

  Eli rubbed his temples. “I thought we had it all figured out, but the more we talk about it, the less sense it makes.”

  “We don’t know how many other pieces they have. Maybe they have tons of the items listed in the ERR albums.” Jasper’s shoulders slumped slightly.

  “And we don’t know if ‘they’ are two people, five people, or twenty people,” Irina added.

  “None of that explains the blueprint,” Eli added.

  “True.” Jasper yawned. “That’s the odd man out of our little collection.”

  It was either very late, or very early, depending on the perspective. As the silence lengthened, Eli laid his head back and closed his eyes. He fell into that twilight state of half awake, half asleep. His mind flitted between worry over his decimated reputation, guilt for what his family must be going through, and happiness because he was in love. Mixed into all that was art—Nazi art, Irina’s paintings, the history of art and what it meant, what it represented.

  Eli sat bolt upright. “Gold.”

  Irina and Jasper both yelped as he startled them awake.

  “Gold what?” Irina asked.

  “You said ‘why kill to keep the art a secret?’” Eli bounced his fist on his thigh. “I think I know why. What if it’s not really about the art, but it’s about making sure that the art doesn’t lead to other questions? Questions about what other loot you may have.”

  Jasper’s eyes widened. “Gold.”

  “You mean Nazi gold?” Irina shook her head. “I thought that was a myth.”

  “The lost train cars full of gold are probably a myth, but the Nazis stole a huge amount of gold from both people and governments.” Jasper tapped his fingers against his lips. “What if members of the purists helped them launder the gold?”

  Irina hunched over her keyboard. “Most of the gold went through the Swiss National Bank or the Vatican Bank.”

  “I doubt that an American, even if they were a Nazi sympathizer, would have connections with either of those.”

  There was something just on the edge of Eli’s consciousness, a thought that wouldn’t quite form.

  “I need to look something up.”

  Jasper passed him back the phone and Eli opened the browser, ignoring the search results about himself. It took a few minutes of clicking around, jumping from link to link about Nazi art and loot, before he found what he was looking for.

  “In nineteen forty-five, a U.S. submarine accidentally sank a ship that had been a Japanese cruise ship. It was turned into a hospital ship, used by the Red Cross, and should have been safe.”

  “That’s sad, but what does that—”

  Eli cut off Jasper’s question. “Supposedly the ship was carrying over five billion dollars in gold, platinum, and diamonds. The Chinese located the wreckage not that long ago and didn’t find any treasure, so everyone figured that the stories were wrong. That the eyewitnesses on the docks were wrong.”

  Jasper frowned. “There’s nothing connecting our Rodin to the sinking of a Japanese ship.”

  “You’re right. I’m just using this as an example to make a point. Maybe it’s not this particular ship, but something like this? What if you made a profit from the war—a profit that was all blood money? You played both sides, ended up with some Nazi gold, diamonds, and you also ended up with some art. You use the gold and diamonds to build your family’s wealth. If these people were members of the Trinity Masters, they probably already had some money, so now they just had more money. No one is going to look too hard, unless you give them reason to.”

  “You think they’d still kill to protect the secret, after all this time?” Jasper asked.

  Eli sat back, thinking. It didn’t quite fit—the greatest generation was dying, reparations had been made. Why keep this secret so many years later?

  “You would if you’re a member of the Trinity Masters,” Irina said suddenly. Her eyes were round. “Think about it. The Trinity Masters bleed red, white, and blue. If your family disobeyed the Grand Master and sided with the Nazis, worked against the allied forces, profited from the war…any one of those things is enough to have the Grand Master come down on you. There’s no Trinity Masters’ court, no jury. If the Grand Master found out…that would be the end. End of you, end of your family.”

  Eli felt the pieces click together. Though the details weren’t all there, he felt like they’d finally figured out the big picture.

  “We still don’t know who ‘they’ are,” Jasper said.

  Irina cleared her throat. “And we’re not going to. We did what the Grand Master asked. More than what she asked. We identified a piece from the ERR album, and we’re bringing it to her. We’ve got four other pieces of art. I’m not going to risk either of you by trying to hunt down the owner or owners of that stuff.” She gestured to the cases. “Once we get everything into the library, we’re done. We have…we have a life to start.”

  “And a reputation to fix.” Jasper pointed at Eli. “And a new artist to nurture.” He flipped to pointing at Irina, who blushed.

  The intercom dinged, and the flight attendant announced that she’d be coming in to check on them one last time before they started their descent. Eli pulled up his hood and put on his headphones, keeping his neck bent as she brought them warm towels, cold bottles of sparkling water, and French-press coffee.

  The plane touched down as the sky turned dawn-gray. Though the lack of sleep made his eyes gritty, Eli wasn’t tired. He was excited—not because they’d figured out what was really going on, but because this was it. The end of this insane “task.”

  In an hour, they’d have handed over the paintings and sculptures—though Eli had plans to ask to study them, and hopefully write about them later—and then he and his trinity would leave this mess in the hands of people better equipped to handle it. And they could focus on what was really important—each other.

  There were still so many things they didn’t know—could any of them cook? Hopefully someone could cook. Eli could BBQ like a master, but in an actual kitchen he was a disaster. Where were they going to live? Did they want to have kids? Were they open to adopting or maybe fostering?

  Irina trotted over. “There’s a private car service coming for us. The charter company will deliver our suitcases to the hotel. That’s all we’re taking.” Irina pointed to the portfolios and duffel bags Eli and Jasper had divided between them.

  Jasper nodded, looking tense.

  “What’s wrong?” Eli asked him.

  “This is too easy. It’s gone too smoothly. There’s always a snag, always a complication.”

  Irina rubbed Jasper’s arm. “We’ve had plenty of complications. Eli got kidnapped, remember? Don’t borrow trouble.”

  Jasper nodded as if he agreed, but the tension didn’t leave him. As a black sedan pulled up beside the small plane, Eli wondered if Jasper wasn’t right. If this was the calm before the storm.

  Chapter Twenty

  The car service dropped them off on Dartmouth Street, right in front of the library as the clock clicked over to 6 a.m. Across the street, Copley Square was nearly deserted. There were a few stoic joggers taking advantage of the paths, and groundskeepers picked up trash off the grass and skimmed leaves off the surface of the fountain.

  Irina climbed out of the car first, looking around. She’d used the burner phone to call the Grand Master as they got closer. She’d answered right away, despite the early hour, and promised to have someone meet them on the steps to bring them in through one of the side doors.

  Irina tensed as a man jogged around the corner of the library building. He raised his hand, and she recognized Devon Asher. She waved in return, but stayed leaning against the door, preventing Eli
and Jasper from getting out.

  Devon slowed to a walk as he got closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another jogger headed their way. Rather than jogging around the square, he was taking advantage of the empty sidewalk in front of the library.

  She turned slightly, keeping the jogger in her peripheral vision even as Devon got closer. Behind her, one of the groundskeepers started up a leaf blower, the high-pitched whine drowning out the other sounds of a city waking up. Irina’s right hand was behind her back, her gun pressed between her lower back and the car window. She leaned forward just a bit, and shifted her index fingers from alongside the trigger, to on the trigger. She had no reason not to trust Devon.

  But after the week she’d had, she didn’t trust anyone.

  Devon was twenty feet away when he stopped, swayed, and dropped to his knees. He grabbed at his chest and gasped, “Run!” then pitched forward.

  Irina raised her gun as she turned, aiming at the other jogger, the only person in range. He dove to the side, behind one of the huge stone balustrades that flanked the library steps.

  Irina flung open the passenger door, ignoring the startled protest of the driver when he saw her gun, and yelled at him to drive.

  He leapt into action, leaving rubber behind as he hit the gas. They turned left on St. James, skirting the edge of the square. There was a thump and the car fishtailed wildly. Irina was thrown against the window, the gun falling from her hand as the car jumped the curb, slamming into one of the stations that guarded the edge of the square’s grassy area.

  The airbags deployed from the head-on collision, and Irina lost a few seconds as the airbag threw her back. She coughed and shoved the bag out of her way.

  “Out!” she shouted. “Stay down.” She shook the driver’s shoulder. “Get out. Hide.”

  He seemed dazed. Irina couldn’t wait for him. She slid out, staying low. She lost precious seconds fishing for her gun under the seat, and nearly wept with relief when she felt it.

  Eli and Jasper were crawling out too. Jasper’s paranoia meant they’d ridden in the backseat with the bags of art on their laps. That paranoia paid off as they slung straps over their shoulders. Irina crab-walked along the edge of the car, peering over the trunk. The jogger was less than fifty yards away, running up the sidewalk, one hand jammed in his pocket. The groundskeepers were just now noticing the accident. The leaf blower that had covered the sounds of gunfire had stopped.

  She risked one glance at the rear tire—it was shredded. He’d shot out the tire.

  Irina looked around. They were up on the sidewalk on the north side of Copley Square. Here, grass gave way to brick underfoot. They were only steps away from the ornate Trinity Church, which seemed to sparkle in the sunlight that was just hitting the top spires.

  The door to the church was standing open.

  “There,” she hissed. “Into the church. Go. I’ll cover you.”

  “Irina, we won’t—” Eli started.

  “We do what she says,” Jasper cut in.

  Eli, who’d been the rescued not a rescuer in their last mission, looked like he wanted to argue, but Jasper tugged him forward. They were defenseless, their arms occupied keeping the portfolio bags from tangling between their legs, and the duffels were heavy on their backs.

  Abandoning stealth, Irina jumped onto the trunk. She needed to buy Eli and Jasper time to get to the church, and the driver time to snap out of it and get out of the car. The groundskeepers came running up, and Irina crossed her right arm across her stomach, tucking the gun under the flap of her jacket.

  “Lady, are you okay?” one asked.

  She couldn’t see the jogger. Where was he? There were plenty of places to hide in the square—stanchions and shrubs and the walls of the fountain.

  “I’m fine. Can you help the driver?”

  “Why don’t you get off the car, lady?”

  “Help the driver,” she snapped, eyes scanning the square.

  There, a flash of darkness. The jogger had swung wide, to the opposite side of the square, and was now headed straight for the church, coming in at an angle. He had to have seen Jasper and Eli run in.

  Irina leapt off the car and ran full speed for the church. There were yells as the groundskeepers realized she had a gun.

  The jogger pounded up the steps and disappeared inside. Irina ran faster, desperately glad she was wearing flats.

  She skidded to a stop, letting her eyes adjust. There were sounds of a struggle—grunts and thuds. The change in light between outside and in was enough to have her blinking.

  As soon as she could see, she slid fully into the church, heart thudding with fear. In the seconds it had taken her to adjust, the church had gone silent. Please let them be okay.

  She scanned the interior of the church, but there was no sign of Eli or Jasper. Or the jogger. Irina stayed where she was, trying to breathe quietly.

  Her patience paid off. A slight flicker of movement at the front of the church caught her eye. Irina leaned to the side just in time to see a dark figure, with two portfolio bags over his shoulder, disappear into the floor.

  She froze, unsure of what she’d just seen. Irina took two steps down the aisle, gun at the ready with a two-handed grip, but pointed at the floor. A tapping noise had her spinning to her right.

  The tapping came again, in a pattern. Tap, tap-tap, tap, tap.

  Irina realized what the pattern was. Shave and a haircut.

  She tapped the butt of the gun twice on the closest pew, completing the seven-note riff. Tap, tap. Two bits.

  Jasper and Eli popped up from behind a high-backed bench that had been up against the outer wall. The full length of the pews separated her from them.

  “He got two of the paintings,” Jasper said immediately. His lip was bleeding. “He must have heard you coming because he gave up on the others.”

  Eli started opening the bags, checking to see which three they still had. Irina didn’t wait for the report.

  “Here’s the phone.” She took it from her jacket pocket and slid it along a pew toward them. “I’m going after him.”

  “No, Irina.” Eli stopped looking through the bags. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I have to. I saw where he went. I don’t have much time.”

  “You’re the one who said it wasn’t our job to figure out who these people were!”

  “I can’t just let him get away. What if this is the only chance anyone ever gets? The lead might be cold by the time anyone else gets here.” Irina hopped up on the pew, walked along the seat to Eli, who was closest. She kissed the top of his head. “I love you, both of you.”

  Jasper hadn’t moved; from the look on his face, it was clear he knew she was going to go after the guy. She kept her gaze on him as she said, “Take the phone. Call the Grand Master. It’s probably too late, but see if you can help Devon.”

  “Be safe, love,” Jasper said.

  Irina ran back along the pew, jumped down into the aisle. Eli turned to argue with Jasper, but he was picking up the phone, dialing. Irina shut them out and went to the spot in the floor where the jogger had gone down. It had been less than two minutes since he’d disappeared. But that was a hell of a head start, but Irina wasn’t trying to catch him, she was going to trace where he’d gone, and the Grand Master could mobilize others to pick up the trail from there.

  The floor in this part of the church was made of two-by-two stones. She ran her hands along the area where she’d seen him go down, and was rewarded with a draft coming up between two stones.

  She was kneeling, feeling along the edges of the stone, when Jasper jogged up.

  “Jasper, take Eli and get out of here,” she said.

  “He’s talking to the Grand Master. I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not. You and Eli need to get the art out of here. I’m not going to confront him—I’m not an idiot. This is strictly follow and report back.”

  Jasper didn’t look convinced.

  “There�
�s no way I’m going to catch him, and I hadn’t planned on it anyway. That’s why I’m wasting time talking to you.” She stared pointedly and Jasper snorted out a laugh.

  “Fine, Eli and I will head for the library.”

  That made Irina pause. “Maybe I should go with you. There might be another ambush waiting inside.”

  “I’m trusting you to go after this guy. You trust me to get Eli and I to safety.”

  Irina nodded sharply, then whipped her attention back to the floor. There had to be a way to open this.

  “But before I go…” Even without looking at Jasper’s face, Irina could hear the smile in his voice. “They don’t call me Indiana Jones for nothing.” He fished a battered plastic loyalty card out of his wallet, ran it along the seams between the stones. His eyes were closed, a slight smile on his face. He stopped, went back, did something she couldn’t see. The square just in front of Irina’s knees popped up.

  “How did you…”

  Jasper winked, jumped to his feet, and ran back to where Eli was waiting, whistling the Indiana Jones theme tune as he went.

  That was just what she needed, a little boost of confidence, a note of whimsy. Irina lifted the stone, which was on a piano hinge. There was nothing but darkness below.

  Sticking her gun into the back of her waistband, Irina felt around in the dark, finding a ladder by touch. She swung her legs in, turning to plant her feet on a rung. Closing her eyes, she said a quick prayer, then started down. When she was three feet down, the stone above her snapped shut, locking her into total darkness.

  It took more courage than Irina knew she had to keep going. She closed her eyes, moving by touch. When her right foot touched a flat surface that was cold even through her shoes, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. She opened her eyes, expecting complete darkness, but there was the very faintest hint of light. Just enough for her to make out the vague shape of the ladder.

  Pulling the gun from her waistband, she pivoted. The light was coming from somewhere to her right. From the feel of the air, she guessed that she was in a corridor that ran right to left, as if the ladder had dropped her into the middle of a long hallway. There was nothing but darkness to her left, so she turned right.