Gretchen put up her hands. “Just stop. Let me get this straight. ShadowFoe and her cronies broke into Credit Condamine and threatened to take down the banking system, while at the same time asking you for help in causing some kind of electrical outage. And all of that is related in some unknown way to finding Napoleon’s lost Russian treasure using a diary the emperor left behind after he was supposedly kidnapped from exile without anyone realizing it?”
Kula gave her a halfhearted grin. “I did mention it was bizarre.”
Gretchen pounded a fist on the table and pointed a finger at Kula. “I think you’re making all of this up to get out of being put in prison for helping them plan the bank heist.”
“I swear it’s the truth! I can prove it!”
“How?”
“I couldn’t copy the files, but I took screenshots and uploaded them to a private file-sharing site.” He rattled off the URL and password to Murph, who put the information into his tablet.
“Got it,” he said. “The files are all here. I see the letter, but I don’t read French.”
Gretchen reached for the tablet, and Murph handed it over. She took a few minutes to read it and looked up with an astonished expression when she was finished. “If this document is authentic, Kula is telling the truth.”
Juan shared her surprise, but he also felt the same confusion about the links between such strange events. “It still doesn’t explain how everything fits together. We need to track down ShadowFoe. Can you do it?”
“You know everything I do now,” Kula said. “They want Napoleon’s Diary badly. I think that’s your best chance of finding her.”
Juan shook his head. “The auction is still two days away. I don’t want to wait. You said you traced her computer. Where was it?”
“At sea.”
“ShadowFoe was on a ship?”
Kula nodded. “Somewhere in the Mediterranean. I don’t know what type or the name of it. But I did find a coded reference to a refitting the ship had undergone recently that leads me to think she may be Russian, possibly in the military.”
“Why?”
“Because it was done at the Primorskiy Kray Naval Base near Vladivostok.”
Juan felt a chill in his stomach. He slowly stood up and turned to MacD. “You and Murph take Kula to his kids. I don’t think this guy is ShadowFoe. We’ll drop him off in Corfu as promised.” He turned back to Kula. “We’ll inform Interpol to meet you there.”
Kula protested, “But I’ve helped you—”
“And we appreciate it. If what you’ve told us proves useful, we’ll recommend that you be shown leniency.”
“Who knows?” Gretchen said. “If you play your cards right, Interpol might even offer you a job. It’s better to recruit hackers than fight them.”
That seemed to mollify Kula. MacD blindfolded him for the walk through the secret parts of the ship and left with Murph.
Gretchen frowned at Juan. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve just seen a zombie.”
“More like a clone. ShadowFoe must have some powerful allies.”
“What are you talking about?”
Juan took a seat opposite her. “The Primorskiy Kray Naval Base is known for outfitting ships with the latest weapons technology. Nationality isn’t a barrier. They sell to the highest bidders.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s where we refitted the Oregon.”
TWENTY
MALTA
When Sergey Golov left Antonovich’s cabin aboard the Achilles, he found Ivana waiting for him outside in the corridor, her fingers dancing across her tablet. She was dressed in a sleek, knee-length skirt and a silk blouse instead of the jeans and sweatshirt she preferred when she was at the computer writing code.