New York City
April 29
Abouquet of shot glasses clinked above the center of the table. Cam, Steady, Tox, Ren, and Chat downed their shots as the waitress set down two platters overflowing with Buffalo wings and three large pizzas. The tabletop churned like a school of piranhas attacking prey. Without pretext, Steady placed one platter of wings in front of Tox while Cam, Ren, and Chat dove into the other. The men had discovered years ago in Tah, a small village on the Morocco-Western Sahara border—when Tox had polished off a tagine meant for the entire table, leaving almost nothing for their tribal host—that getting Tox his own order of whatever food they were sharing simplified things.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Steady teased.
Tox reached for the hot sauce and flipped him off. “Bishop Security. She’s keeping Twitch company while she runs down some leads on possible Gentrify suspects.”
“I’ll tell you what. I would rather shit in my hand and clap than have all that money. Everybody’s after it,” Steady commented around a wing.
“Van Gent was an equal opportunity thief,” Ren noted. “Some of those clients gave him their retirement fund and nest eggs. They weren’t all these billionaire players.”
“True.” Tox tossed a bare bone onto a spare plate.
“Money is the root of all evil,” Steady added.
“That’s not the quote,” Cam chimed in. “First Timothy, Chapter six: Love of money is the root of all evil.”
“Same thing,” grumbled Steady. “People who have money love it.”
“Something’s been a real bone in my throat,” Ren commented, taking a swing from his Coors draft.
Steady and Cam handed off finished plates to the waitress and made room for the two large pizzas.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Cam asked.
“Someone’s after Calliope. We don’t know who, but the why we can narrow down. Three men chased her down the street while someone else broke into her home. But…that someone else also walked right by the flash drive and printed reports of client lists and transaction activity that were sitting out at the time. They also left some very expensive jewelry in her bedroom.”
“Yeah, so by process of elimination, these guys were after the art,” Steady commented.
“The guys chasing her were…what did you call them, Tox?” Ren resumed.
“Dumbshits.”
“Right. Dumbshits. They were out in the open, carrying visible weapons, leaving prints and DNA in the building where Calliope hid. Meanwhile, the fourth guy, the guy who broke into her home, picked a new, secure lock, outsmarted a rottweiler, and presumably searched the entire house without leaving a trace of evidence.”
“In other words, not a dumbshit.” Cam folded a slice of pizza and crammed half in his mouth.
Ren continued his line of thought. “We were operating on the assumption that a fourth dumbshit from the dumbshit crew broke into the house…”
Tox took it from there. “But what if it was a completely different bad guy looking for a completely different thing? The dumbshits could be after the files she recovered from Gentrify, but this other joker?”
“He wants the art.” Ren finished the thought.
“But the tube wasn’t in her home because she gave it to you.” Steady.
“And it’s now secure in the vault at Columbia,” Ren confirmed.
“So, she’s safe from one bad dude,” Cam added.
“The smart bad dude.” Steady reached for a wing.
Ren wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Assuming he knows she no longer has it.”
“That has to be what our mystery professor at Columbia was after today.” Steady downed a shot.
“That had to have been a disguise.” Cam took over. “The man claiming to be Ambrose Teller looked old, but he didn’t move old. You know? No old guy could get from the building where we were to the taxi he left in that fast. He rounded the corner and took off.”