Double eagle, p.17
Double Eagle, page 17
“Thumps is unhappy with you,” said Cruz.
“Thumps is unhappy with the both of you,” said Thumps. “There’s a dead body in the morgue, and I’m willing to bet that you two had something to do with it.”
“You think one of us killed him?” Benoit put her fork down. “My job was to keep him safe.”
“And a great job you did,” said Cruz.
“Go stick your head in a toilet. I almost got killed. What have you done? Eat doughnuts and pretend you’re a secret agent?”
“I didn’t lose the principal.”
“Oh, is that how it’s going to be.” Benoit picked up a knife, pointed it at Cruz. “This is all my fault.”
Thumps shook his head. “I can see why you two split up.”
Benoit stopped pointing and turned on Thumps.
“What did you say?”
Thumps had liked it better when Benoit had the knife aimed at Cruz. “Why your marriage didn’t work out.”
“Marriage?” Benoit glared at Cruz. “Really?”
“We needed a cover story.”
“So you told him we were married?”
“You weren’t married?”
Benoit slammed the knife on the table. “What else did this flutterbrain tell you?”
Thumps felt as though he were up to his knees in mud. “About you . . . and him? The divorce? Duncan?”
Benoit frowned. “Duncan?”
“Your son?”
Cruz held up his hands. “Hey, it was a good cover.”
Thumps stared at Cruz. “You don’t have a son named Duncan?”
“If I did,” said Cruz, “I probably wouldn’t name him Duncan.”
“And your dead mother?”
“Cover story,” said Cruz. “Cover story.”
Thumps got the coffee pot, brought it to the table. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
27
When Thumps was a cop in Eureka, he had taken Anna and Callie to a local theatre to watch a nature film where biologists pulled a five-hundred-pound, thirty-foot-long anaconda out of a flooded grassland in the Orinoco Basin. It took six full-grown men to drag the snake out of the water, and they were exhausted by the time they got the reptile onto land.
Pulling the story of Boris Lukin out of Cruz and Benoit was harder.
And considerably more annoying.
“So, Lukin was a government informant?”
“Not an informant exactly,” said Cruz. “From time to time, he would funnel certain information to certain government agencies.”
“On?”
“You know,” said Cruz.
“No,” said Thumps, “I don’t.”
“Jesus, Cruz,” said Benoit. “Loose lips.”
“Hey,” said Cruz. “He’s a deputy sheriff. He’s one of us.”
“Loose lips is listening,” said Thumps.
“Okay,” said Cruz, “so Lukin was in bed with certain terrorist groups.”
Thumps took a moment to put that piece in place. “Wouldn’t that be more the business of the CIA and NSA?”
“Domestic terrorist groups,” said Benoit.
“We got more than our fair share of them,” said Cruz. “And they can be just as lethal as the international baddies.”
“And these baddies would have an interest in Lukin being dead.”
“If they knew about Lukin,” said Cruz. “Which they didn’t. The only reason I’m telling you any of this is because Lukin is . . .”
“Dead,” said Thumps.
“Any word on how he died?” said Benoit.
“Autopsy is tomorrow morning,” said Thumps. “If there’s something to find, Beth will find it.”
“What we haven’t figured out,” said Benoit, “is why Lukin came here in the first place.”
Thumps smiled, topped up his cup. “You want the half-hour sitcom or the two-hour movie?”
AFTER THUMPS FINISHED the story, he picked up all the dishes and put them in the sink.
Cruz sat back, sighed. “All this because of a coin?”
“A 1933 double eagle,” said Thumps.
“Son of a bitch,” said Benoit. “He should have told us.”
“The coin’s illegal,” said Thumps. “What would you have done? Arrest him? Break up the sale? Confiscate it?”
“All of the above,” said Benoit, “although any shit to do with money is really Treasury’s job.”
“Which is why he didn’t tell you.”
“And you think it somehow got him killed?” said Cruz.
“We don’t know that,” said Thumps. “Beth first, then you can jump to conclusions.”
“Let’s hope that he died of natural causes,” said Benoit. “If it’s murder, my next posting will be in northern Alaska. Or west Texas.”
“Won’t matter whether he died of natural causes or was murdered,” said Cruz. “It was on your watch. The asset’s dead. Bureau’s going to look for someone to flush down the toilet.”
“We’re both floating in the same bowl,” said Benoit.
Thumps was always amazed how one thing could lead to another. “Did you two know each other before you got here?”
Benoit started to open her mouth. And then thought better of it.
“That’s it. You flew out here from Seattle,” said Thumps. “But Cruz flew in from somewhere else.”
“Pancho . . .”
“Such as Miami,” said Thumps. “You were Lukin’s liaison. You were his handler.”
Cruz snorted. “Not hardly.”
“Liars don’t get pie,” said Thumps.
“There is no pie,” said Cruz.
“Figure of speech,” said Thumps.
“Be nice if you two shut up for once,” said Benoit.
Thumps stretched his legs out under the table. “Benoit is drugged, and as soon as the two of you are out of the way, Lukin dies.”
“Yeah,” said Cruz. “The coincidence doesn’t play well with us either.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Benoit looked over to the refrigerator. “You sure there’s no pie?”
BENOIT AND CRUZ left just before midnight, with nothing settled. Thumps went back to the living room and watched the second half of a show on strip mining for gold in Alaska. Thumps couldn’t believe the devastation that attended the process. Acres of forest ripped up and turned into ugly mud flats and stagnant holding ponds. Much of the show was taken up with bulldozers breaking down, wash plants breaking down, trucks breaking down.
The more the miners tore up the landscape, the more Thumps found himself rooting for more things to break down.
At the top of the hour, the show switched to a program on border security. One woman coming back from Canada was caught with a few flakes of marijuana in a baggie. Hardly worth the border guard’s time, but he spent most of the show threatening to throw the woman into jail and hitting her with a large fine. Another portion was about two men who were stopped at the Canadian border with a trunk full of pistols and rifles. One of the guys gave the border guard a lecture on the right to bear arms and how the U.S. was protecting Canada from invasion by China and how border guards had no jurisdiction over sovereign citizens.
Thumps picked up the remote and after several tries managed to change the channel to women arguing over wedding dresses.
It took him another minute to find the power button.
He sat on the sofa for a while. He wasn’t tired, didn’t feel like going to bed. Was Alberta in the same time zone? The call to Claire went straight to voice mail and the mailbox that she still hadn’t set up.
Thumps wasn’t sure if she would even know that he had tried to reach her, if there would be a record of the attempt. In case there were any questions later about the level of his concern.
Something he could point to. Something he could show Roxanne.
And Moses. Had he gone home? Was he still in the hospital?
The main number for the hospital took him to an electronic answering service that cautioned him that only two people were permitted in a patient’s room at a time and that masks needed to be worn. There was the option to dial a department by name, or to press nine if you knew the staff member you wanted to speak to, or to press five to speak with a patient.
Thumps pressed five and was asked to punch in the patient’s security code on his touch-tone phone. There were no options if you didn’t know the number. Thumps tried pressing zero, hoping it would take him to the main desk or admissions, and a robotic voice thanked him for calling and hung up.
Okay. Check with Roxanne tomorrow. If anyone would know where Claire was, it would be Heavy Runner. And call Cooley Small Elk. The big man wasn’t going to let Moses out of his sight.
Sometimes being part of a close-knit community was stifling. Sometimes it was a comfort. Whatever the pluses and minuses, it was better than gold mining in Alaska, border crossings, wedding dresses, and electronic voices that took you nowhere.
THE PLAN WAS to sleep in the next morning, get to Al’s late. With any luck Thumps would be able to fortify himself with a hearty but quiet breakfast before he had to brave the calamity of Beth’s house of horrors.
The plan worked. The café was mostly empty.
“You’re late,” said Al. “You missed everyone.”
“Some days I get lucky.”
“Wutty has his Little Otter floating again. Rawat and Stas are packing for their big fishing trip.”
“Breakfast, please,” said Thumps. “The usual.”
“Moses is out of the hospital, and I hear tell you got internet and cable.”
“And coffee.”
“As well as a cellphone.”
“Maybe you know who’s trying to sell a 1933 gold double eagle?”
“I’m a gossip, not a psychic.” Al wiped the counter down. “You want to talk about Claire?”
“You hear about Morris Dumbo and his new girlfriend?”
“You’re changing the subject,” said Al.
“Okay,” said Thumps. “Let’s talk about breakfast.”
AL WAS AT the grill, working on a mound of hash browns, when Emily Hunter walked into the café. She stopped at the door, did a quick survey of the interior, and decided to stay.
“So, this is the place.”
Hunter sat on the stool next to Thumps.
“Long way to come for a meal,” said Thumps.
“Couldn’t manage the buffet another morning.”
Al brought the coffee pot. “This your new girlfriend?”
“What?” Thumps felt his face flush.
“That’s right,” said Hunter. “Thumps here is a real stud.”
“I heard he was more a dud.”
“Very funny,” said Thumps.
“I like her,” said Al.
“Fine,” said Thumps. “Why don’t you get me my breakfast, and then the two of you can go somewhere and trade insults.”
“Grumpy,” said Hunter.
“You have no idea,” said Al.
“Breakfast?” said Thumps.
“You staying for breakfast, honey?”
“I am,” said Hunter. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Hunter waited until Al had filled her cup and was back at the grill. She opened her purse, took out a postcard, pushed it to Thumps.
“Here’s mine,” said Hunter. “Guessing it’s the same as everyone else’s.”
The postcard with the eagle on the front, the inscription on the back.
“I’ve only seen three of them,” said Thumps, “but yeah, I imagine they’re all the same.”
Hunter nodded. “Don’t you just love a good mystery?”
“Is that what this is?”
“Absolutely,” said Hunter. “Someone must have told you the story of Barca’s eagle by now?”
“Pieces.”
“Hannibal Barca,” said Hunter. “The mystery man of the coin world. My mother met him on two occasions. Said he was a proper gentleman. Very quiet. Didn’t talk much about himself. Had some of the best gold coins my mother had ever seen.”
“A 1933 double eagle.”
“I don’t think so,” said Hunter. “If she had seen one of those, she would have told me.”
“But Barca was rumoured to have had one.”
“Rumours,” said Hunter, “run through the coin business like blood.”
“And Arkady Lukin?”
“Ah, yes,” said Hunter, “Barca and Lukin. A most unlikely match. Lukin was flamboyant, loud. Loved to boast about his deals and his coin collection. Everything he did had to be large, large, and larger. Whatever the best was, he had to have it.”
“Life of the party.”
“Actually, he was a boor. Thought he could make panties melt with a smile.”
“Must have been some smile.”
“He came to Chicago to look at a particularly nice collection of Indian heads. Tried to hit on my mother.” Hunter moved her knife away from her cup. “Then he tried to hit on me. I was eighteen at the time.”
“Don’t imagine your father was impressed.”
“Dad was dead by then. It was just me and my mom and my sisters,” said Hunter. “More than enough firepower to sink his battleship.”
“And Boris?”
“Worse than the father.”
Al brought the plates, steaming from the grill. “I gave you extra hash browns ’cause this is your first visit, so don’t be expecting this on a regular basis.”
“Everything looks lovely.”
“And watch out that this one doesn’t sneak a forkful,” said Al. “He’s got no control when it comes to food.”
Thumps gave Hunter a chance to get into the meal.
“So, everyone’s in town in the hopes of buying this 1933 double eagle. Even though it’s not supposed to exist. Even though it’s illegal.”
“Not necessarily,” said Hunter. “A few of us just want to see it.”
“And have you?”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “I have.”
28
Hunter was a slow eater and a slow talker. She was halfway through the hash browns and her third cup of coffee before she got to the condo where Boris Lukin’s body was found.
“We were there earlier.”
“All of you?”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “All of us. Eliopoulos, Souto, Poe, Myers, Lukin, and me.”
“How did you know to go there?”
“Text message,” said Hunter. “No idea who sent it. Just gave us a room number and a time.”
“So you went.”
“Of course we went.” Hunter put more pepper on her eggs. “Who wouldn’t.”
“And?”
“And the place was pretty much as you saw it. Except for the laptop. There was a laptop open on the table the first time.”
“Okay.”
“So, we’re all standing in the room when the laptop comes to life. And there’s the double eagle. Or at least a video of the double eagle.”
“Not the actual coin?”
“It was a sales pitch, really. The video showed the coin from all angles and up close, a copy of the local paper to give a timeline, and an enhanced voice that told us what we were to do if we were interested in owning the coin.”
“Any of this strike you as a little unusual?”
Hunter smiled. “My family has been in this business for generations. This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen. It’s not even in the top ten.”
“Really?” said Thumps. “Bidding millions of dollars on a video?”
“Believe it or not.”
“Sounds like a scam.”
“We were to text our bids to a particular number. Winning bid gets invited back for a one-on-one with the coin. The rest of us go home.”
“Did you bid?”
“I did,” said Hunter. “I had a buyer who wanted the coin.”
“But you didn’t win?”
“I told him it wouldn’t be enough,” said Hunter. “He’s a cheap billionaire.”
“Can I ask you how much you bid?”
Hunter didn’t break stride. “Ten million.”
Thumps put his fork down.
“It sounds like a lot,” said Hunter.
“It is a lot.”
“Not to someone who brings in billions every year.”
“I don’t know anyone who brings in millions.”
“Anyway, I didn’t win the bid.”
“So, one of the others bid more than ten million.”
“My guess,” said Hunter, “is they had buyers with deeper pockets or who wanted the coin more.”
“Any idea who?”
“Dealer or the actual buyer?”
“Either,” said Thumps. “Both.”
“Not a clue,” said Hunter. “You might want to ask them individually. They might tell you, they might not.”
“Why’d you tell me?”
“What does it matter?”
“It might be the reason Lukin was killed.”
“Good,” said Hunter. “I’d hate to think that self-centred bastard died of natural causes.”
Thumps glanced at his watch. Beth wouldn’t mind starting without him. The sheriff could manage by himself. All in all, it was pleasant sitting in Al’s talking with Hunter. And he was working on the case, wasn’t he?
“You think someone killed him?”
“It’s a delicious thought.”
“Any thoughts as to why?”
Hunter pushed her plate to one side. “Boris was a crook. He was a cheat. There are any number of people in Miami who won’t shed any tears.”
“Montana isn’t Miami.”
“You should ask his two rent-a-bodyguards,” said Hunter. “Maybe someone made them a better offer.”
“There were no signs of foul play,” said Thumps. “Those two don’t look that subtle.”
Hunter put her hand on Thumps’s. “How about the FBI agent and her sidekick?”
Thumps waited. Kept his mouth shut.
“I know about them,” said Hunter. “Boris told me. Wanted to show off. Demonstrate what an important man he was, dragging two feds in his wake.”
“Why would they kill him?”
“Why not? Wouldn’t be the first time the government stepped over that line.”
Al arrived with the coffee pot. “You’re not finishing your breakfast?”
“It was first-rate.” Hunter stood, took a twenty out of her purse, stuck it under the pepper shaker. “Best breakfast I’ve had in a long time. But I never finish what’s on my plate. Keeps me hungry.”
