The Black Sheep and the English Rose (18 page)

So, he'd done some checking, too. Finn wondered when he'd had time. On the flight, most likely, just as he had.

Reese's claim of legitimacy was possible, if not probable, given all he'd been reputedly connected with. The legitimate trading and selling of artifacts, vintage pieces, heirlooms, antiquities, and the like was a multibillion-dollar industry that functioned on a global scale at a blistering pace made even more frenetic with the advent of advanced communication technology. It was also a business riddled with loopholes and gray areas that allowed a great deal of latitude in operation as well as the interpretation of various laws and boundaries. All of which Finn was intimately aware of—Reese had that much right. He had walked those boundaries and stretched those interpretations for the sake of his clients on numerous occasions.

“How are the items legitimately shipped? You claim them as art?”

Reese turned to Felicity with cool regard. “I would think you'd have figured that one out by now, Ms. Trent. Seeing as you are far more…clever than even I'd assumed.”

So, Finn thought, he really hadn't known about Felicity's sideline before this little adventure.

“John—” she began, but he waved her silent.

“I don't ask questions that don't concern me. And what you do in your spare time doesn't concern me. Beyond the next twenty-four hours anyway.”

Felicity wisely didn't push further. But they all knew where they stood, which was, individually, on shaky, yet ultimately solid ground.

“The pieces become part of the art,” Reese said at length. “They're incorporated.”

“Then later…unincorporated?” Finn asked.

Reese nodded. “And I'm not sharing for the greater good, but so you know to be on the lookout for something much bigger than a simple necklace.”

“What is it being shipped with?”

“My guess is, at this very moment, it's being welded to an iron and plaster sculpture of a somewhat largely proportioned satyr. Only the top half isn't exactly…traditional.”

“Clearly not if the sapphire won't look somewhat amiss.”

“It won't,” he said, but didn't elaborate.

Finn didn't press. How many sapphire-wearing satyrs could there be floating around the city, after all?

“Do you know where the work is being done?”

“Several possibilities.”

“And the shipping docks. We have several locations. Is there one in particular she typically uses?”

“I don't know. I don't generally have anything to do with that segment of the process. Once it leaves my hands—”

“Your role is over,” Finn repeated. “Understood.”

The intercom buzzed from the driver. “We've arrived, Mr. Reese.”

Reese looked outside, as if just remembering they'd been in a moving car and were not still sitting on the tarmac.

“This isn't the gallery,” Felicity commented, peering through the tinted glass.

“Or a loading dock,” Finn added.

They were in a warehouse district. It had rained recently. The empty parking lots were dimly lit, with most of the lighted poles not functioning at all, but just well enough to show the pavement was still wet and the blacktop was covered in numerous puddles. A light fog hung in the air, misting the most heavily just beneath the lights.

Reese pressed a button to his right. “Kill the lights.”

“Kill. Not a word I'm particularly fond of,” Finn said dryly. “Especially in settings such as this.”

“Why are we here?” Felicity asked. “Is this where you think the sapphire is being added to the sculpture?”

“These are my warehouses,” Reese said.

Finn's eyes widened briefly, and he glanced around through the rear window. “All of them?”

“The ones circling us, yes. I maintain depots in several regional areas on both coasts. This happens to be one of them.”

“Makes storage easier, I suppose. How close are we to the shipping docks?”

“A couple of miles.”

“Why not take us there?”

“I prefer a bit more privacy.”

Felicity was still staring out the window. “Do you really move such a high volume that you require this much space?”

For the first time since climbing into the car, Reese smiled slightly. “I personally handle only a small percentage of my actual trade business.”

“Determined by?”

“My choice. Certain clients will deal only with me. And certain transactions are more appealing to me than others.”

Finn had a pretty good idea which ones those were. “And Julia? Does she have access to your warehouse locations? Does she share storage?”

Reese sighed. “She's aware of them, but she has her own setup.” He didn't go into any further detail.

Felicity glanced outside. “Looks pretty deserted. You're not thinking she'd use your space.”

“I wouldn't think. But it's clear I don't know what she's thinking.”

She looked back at Reese. “Are you dropping us off, then? We will need transportation.”

“I've arranged that. And yes, we will part ways here.”

Finn didn't like the sound of that, either.

“Why do you think she will stick to the same plan?” Felicity asked. “Wouldn't she switch things up to keep you from tracking her down?”

Reese looked out the window. “As I said, I honestly don't know what she's thinking.”

“What I think is that privacy or not, we don't need to be sitting here like the big elephant in the room,” Finn said. “Unless you think maybe she'd use one of your warehouses instead of her own, believing you'd never think to check here.”

Reese turned a look on Finn that actually made him shift back slightly. “I might not have been aware of what she was capable of, or understood the lengths she'd be willing to go to, but I assure you, Mr. Dalton, neither is she aware of mine.”

Another town car pulled into the lot and rolled into a spot a few feet away.

“How will we get in touch with you,” Felicity asked, “when this is done?”

“I'll be in touch.” He reached inside his jacket, and Finn tensed, but Reese came out with a business card. “Her business card. The additional addresses of interest are on the back.”

Finn took the card and gave it a cursory glance. He'd do more with the information once they were alone and away from Reese. He was going to comment that Reese didn't have their contact information either, but at the moment, his radar was pinging all over the place. He just wanted to get out of the damn car.

The driver opened Finn's door. Finn looked at Reese, who was still staring out his window, his thoughts seemingly a thousand miles away, but said nothing before climbing out. He reached his hand in for Felicity, who slid most of the way out, then looked back at Reese.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

Finn couldn't see Reese, but he heard him say, “Take care of this, Ms. Trent, and I'll owe you a favor. Feel free to collect at any time.”

“We're all just doing our job,” she said quietly, so quietly it barely reached his ears. “I just want to continue to do mine.”

Finn ducked down then, in time to see Reese look at her and say, “I'm not in the habit of burning bridges.” He looked away again. “Some are simply burned for me.”

Felicity squeezed Finn's hand and looked up at him, concern and determination etched on her face. “Let's go.”

F
elicity made herself comfortable in the back of the other town car, smoothing her skirt more out of habit than because she cared, at this point, about her appearance. She waited until Finn had settled across from her and the driver had closed the door before she spoke.

“I think we should check her studio out first, before the shipping docks. It would take some time to convert that satyr.”

“I think we should follow Reese. This whole thing isn't feeling right to me.”

Felicity looked at him. “In what way? Certainly he's being honest about Julia betraying him. You can't fake that kind of pain.”

Now it was Finn's turn to look more closely at her. “He seemed more pissed than upset.”

“Then you weren't watching closely enough.”

“What do you know about the pain of betrayal?”

“If you're asking me if I'm personally identifying with what he's going through, then the answer is no. But, in my work with the Foundation, I've dealt with a lot of people going through a lot of misery. Pain being a fairly universal element of their misfortune, despite there being an assortment of sources. I'd think, given your vocation, both current and former, you'd be similarly aware.” She looked at him more closely, then huffed a little. “You did notice, didn't you? You're probing. Me. And we don't have time for that right now.”

“You're a tough woman to get to know. I won't apologize for probing.”

“We both saw the look on John's face, the stunned tone of his voice. He was thoroughly gobsmacked. So what is it you don't think he's being truthful about?”

“I didn't say he wasn't being truthful. I said this wasn't adding up. A man like Reese—I don't care what his background or usual role is in these kinds of things—isn't a guy who sits around and lets other people fight his battles. If he's been betrayed, by anyone, but most especially by someone he was emotionally vulnerable to, he strikes me as a man who would take it upon himself to seek justice, revenge, vengeance, whatever he felt was necessary. In whatever manner he needed to.”

“He is.”

“He's farming it out. Doesn't sound like him.”

“You don't know that.”

“You do. Can you honestly say he strikes you as the kind of man to let other people do his dirty work?”

“This is hardly dirty, it's merely—”

“You know what I mean.”

She sighed. She did know. And she happened to agree; she just didn't want to share her viewpoint with him. Felicity was still undecided on just how she planned to see this particular mission through, so the less shared between them, especially as it concerned a potential adversary, the better.

She just wished she felt more at ease with that plan.

“Maybe it's because of the personal nature of the betrayal that he's not willing to get directly involved,” she said. “But if you want to follow John, his car is leaving now.”

Finn looked out the window, then at their driver, then at Felicity, then back out of the window, and swore.

“What?”

“We're in Reese's car.” He nodded to the screen. “Using Reese's driver. Not a good situation.”

“It's not so risky as all that.” She tapped the button on the intercom to the front of the car and rattled off the address John had given them of Julia's personal studio location. “As swiftly as you can manage,” she added, her accent crisp and formal, before looking back at Finn. “Do you think he's somehow monitoring our actions via his driver?”

“I wouldn't be at all surprised. You don't actually think he's flying back out tonight, do you? He might not be willing to involve himself directly, but I'd bet money he'll stay somewhere within reach until his problem is resolved to his satisfaction.”

“I have no idea what he's planning to do. As long as he stays out of our way, I don't know that I care. I just want to track Julia down and get our stone.”

Finn smiled.

“What?” she asked, nonplussed.

“
Our
stone. I love it when you get all sentimental.”

She rolled her eyes, but had to fight the smile that wanted to form. He was the most contrary man. He was so focused on business, sorting things through with such a keen mind, that it became difficult for her to not want to confide in him, strategize with him, and yet, at the same time, he remained constantly and consistently emotionally connected. To her. Quite contrary. Worse, he made her feel contrary as well.

She watched John's car leave the lot going the opposite direction, toward uptown, then lost sight of him all together as they turned a corner and headed farther into the warehouse district. While she wasn't as unconcerned about John as she'd portrayed herself to be, she felt certain her plan of action was the best. But she couldn't quite squelch the small pang of doubt that maybe Finn was right and Reese was the one they should be following, though that might be tough to do in matching black town cars.

“You're worried, too,” Finn said.

She looked over to find him watching her and once again realized how unused she was to being so closely observed.

“It's okay, you know,” he added, quite sincerely and without a hint of patronization, “you don't have to pretend otherwise. You'd be foolish not to be, and you're anything but foolish.”

Oh, you have no idea
, she thought. Because she was actually contemplating sticking with Finn after all, at least until they recovered the sapphire, then pleading her case to him—whatever that might be, she hadn't exactly come up with her defense as yet—hoping to play on his fair and honorable nature. If she could find out a little bit about his client and discredit any of his reasoning for the stone belonging in the hands of his client versus her government, more the better.

Which was all very strategic and smart. And not remotely the reason she really wanted to stay with him.

Foolish, indeed.

She refocused her thoughts on business. “What if he still has it?”

“What?”

“I just…I was listening to you, you know, and I just thought, following your line of concern, what if John still has the stone?”

“He wouldn't be talking to us. He'd be making a deal. Hell, he'd be trying to sell it to us if he thought he could. It's not like we both don't come with built-in funding.”

“If we'd wanted to buy the stone, we'd have been dealing with him from the beginning. He knows we wouldn't play that way. This isn't about bartering, but rightful ownership.”

“Exactly. So, if he has the stone, why is he wasting our time in any way, shape, or form if we're not his targeted buyers?”

“To distract and steer us down the wrong path while he sets up his deal? We didn't land too long after he did. Perhaps his deal with Julia didn't pan out and he needed to buy some time to set up another one and didn't want us on his heels. He could be putting us on Julia's track, knowing she's out of the game and it's a dead end lead. Or, for all we know, she's in on the plot and will intentionally lead us on a merry chase.”

Finn thought about that for a second. “Possible, I suppose.” He glanced from the window directly at her. “But, if that's the case, then what about all that pain he's supposedly in?”

She didn't flinch under his steady regard. “I still maintain something happened with Julia, but…” She stopped talking and mentally went back over their conversation with John. He wasn't the most demonstrative man she'd ever come across, but she couldn't shake that look on his face as he'd talked about her. She shook her head. “No. He doesn't have it. She does.”

Finn folded his arms.

“I mean it. I was going your way, looking at the possible scenarios, but I know what I saw on his face. She betrayed him. In more ways than one.”

“My original point still stands. Why use us? We both know he knows where she is. Or can certainly figure it out a lot better than we can.”

“I don't think he's used to being in the position he's in at the moment. I think he's hurt. I think he's angry. Really angry. Maybe in ways he's not used to feeling, much less coping with.” She held Finn's gaze, certain now, as she spoke the words, that she'd hit on the truth of it. “I don't think he trusts himself at the moment.”

“Trusts himself how? What is he afraid he'd do? Hurt her?”

“I don't think he trusts himself to be around her in any capacity.” She looked out the window then, knowing it was a cowardly move, but suddenly unable to hold Finn's gaze any longer. “And no, I don't think hurting her is what he'd be afraid of doing. It would be more the risk of further hurting himself.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Finn open his mouth to speak, but then he stopped and settled back in his seat. And said nothing.

How she wished this wasn't so complicated.

Even more, she wished she knew what he was thinking right that very second.

“Okay. So, we let Reese go,” Finn said at length. “Focus on Julia. I don't know what impression she thinks she's left behind in taking the stone for her own purposes, but unless she somehow thinks she'd have Reese's blessing in this, I don't think she'd use her usual facilities. Or his. She has to know he's quite capable of tracking her down.”

“I agree, but I'm not sure where else to start. Her business addresses are all we have from John. And we haven't got much more ourselves. You have the list of her best clients. Do you think we should go that route directly? If she's going to dump it, and does it locally, she won't need her shipping facilities or to disguise it on the satyr.”

“Reese seemed to think she was going to follow through on their plan with the satyr, which means her target isn't a local client.” He turned over the business card. “There isn't anything else here to go on.”

“Then let's check the private studio off the list, then scope out the docks while your partner digs up a list of possible other connections she has in the area where she could do the same kind of work. Maybe one of her featured artists' studios. Specifically, the one who created the satyr.”

“Makes sense. But first we should—” Finn broke off as the limo slowly bumped over the uneven entrance to the industrial park where Julia's other studio was situated. The car slowed to a stop in the middle of the road leading in. “Well. That doesn't look good,” Finn said, staring out the window.

Felicity didn't have to ask him what he was talking about. Even in the middle of the night, she could see the huge plumes of black smoke billowing from somewhere deeper inside the park. “I guess it would be too much to ask for that to be just a coincidence and it's someone else's building going up in flames.”

“I'm thinking yes on that.”

“Do we go back there? Verify it's her warehouse?”

“No.” This time Finn leaned forward and pressed the intercom button. “Nearest car rental agency, please.”

“But—”

“But, nothing. I want out of Reese's leased town car, if you don't mind. Given what we know, the list of who would want Julia's building burned down is a very short one.”

“If the driver is staying connected to John, then what makes you think he'll just drop us off anywhere we—”

“Why don't we find out.” Finn cut off any further response by rapping on the tinted screen between them and the driver, then punched the intercom button. “Change of plans, you can just pull over here.”

The driver immediately pulled over.

“Well, that answers one question.” He opened the door. “Come on.”

“What? What are we doing?”

“You made another good point. Why give Reese any indication of what we're doing, or where we're going?”

“You've already made it known you're renting a car.”

“The minute I ditch the limo, he's going to assume that much. He doesn't need to know where we're getting it from, too.”

“Well, I'm fairly certain it will be quite the walk if we hoof it from here.”

Finn smiled. “Oh, ye of little faith.” He slid out, then reached his hand in for her. Once she was safely next to him, he waved the driver on.

The limo pulled quietly away from the curb a moment later.

Felicity hadn't really believed that it wouldn't, but she did sigh a little in relief, nonetheless. “I think you're being overly cautious, which could slow us down.”

Finn already had his iPhone in his hand, tapping away at the tiny keyboard. “Someone is torching warehouses. I'll take overly cautious, thanks.” He stopped tapping and looked at her. “Rafe is sending us a car.”

“It's three in the morning.”

“Six
A.M
. at home. Not that it would matter.”

“A taxi service could get us to the closest rental place faster.”