Enigma (FBI Thriller #21)(65)
She’d dug nearly to the bottom of that stack of newspapers when she blinked, called out, “Hey, what’s this?”
Cam and Jack made their way over to her, watched her carefully unfold a 2003 Washington Post want-ads section. She held up a bracelet. Diamonds spilled through her fingers, sparkling even in the dim light. “Looks like Humbug went through Manta Ray’s goodie bag and lifted a souvenir. Or maybe this was his reward.”
Jack took the diamond bracelet from Ruth, tossed it back and forth, watching the diamonds gleam and sparkle. “Pretty small diamonds, but a lot of them. Maybe high five figures?”
“Tell you in a minute.” Cam took out her cell phone, pulled up a set of photos with descriptions beneath them. “Ah, here we go. These inventory photos of the goods stolen from the safe-deposit boxes show this piece belonging to Mr. Horace Goodman, a big shot at the Stronach Group. They’re a holding company with real estate investments all over the country, including Pimlico in Baltimore, home of the Preakness Stakes. It says this bauble was insured for sixty thousand dollars.”
Jack said, “Mrs. Horace Goodman will be a happy camper when she gets it back.”
“Or whoever,” Ruth said, cynical to the bone.
Cam said, “Do you think Hummer knew the bracelet was from a robbery? Do you think he ever opened the leather carryall?”
“If he wasn’t tripping in outer space the whole time, how could he not look?” Jack straightened, looked around him. “I wonder what he thought when he heard Manta Ray calling to him, looked out that window to see a helicopter waiting for him.”
“Relieved? Happy?” Ruth said. “I’ll bet you Manta Ray convinced him they were best mates. Talked him into holding the loot.”
“Good bet.” Jack handed around his cell, showed them a photograph. “Here he is, Major Patrick Sean Hummer, the photo taken in 2001, only a week after 9/11.” They looked at a soldier with buzz-cut graying hair and sharp brown eyes, focused and filled with intelligence. Jack scrolled down. “He was divorced in the early nineties, two kids, a boy and a girl, given over to his ex-wife. They’re about our age now, Cam. The photo was taken before he simply disappeared, went AWOL. That’s still how he’s listed, so he wasn’t ever found—that is, if anyone bothered to look for him.”
“A life lost, simply thrown away,” Cam said, “by us.” And she kicked at a pile of Washington Posts.
Ruth slipped the diamond bracelet into a small plastic evidence bag. “I almost wish we could leave it here for him. We owe men like him more than a jail cell. Do you guys mind if we keep his name to ourselves?”
Jack said, “I don’t understand the question, Ruth. How would we know his name?”
42
IN THE HELICOPTER
WAREHOUSE DISTRICT, ALEXANDRIA
EARLIER WEDNESDAY MORNING
Liam shouted into the bullhorn, “Major Hummer!”
Elena stared disbelieving when a man appeared out of a third-floor window in the warehouse and started waving wildly back at them. A moment later, a lanky man in a dirty white T-shirt and dusty jeans tucked inside military boots dashed from the warehouse toward them, a leather carryall under his arm.
Elena was shaking her head back and forth. “I can’t believe this. You actually left your stash with a homeless man? Look at him, he’s crazy.”
“Major Hummer’s not homeless; he told me he lives in a cozy apartment on the third floor. Crazy? Nah, the major and I had a nice chat about Ireland, and Derry, and we talked about what it’s like to be shot. What I am is an excellent judge of character.” He grinned at her, shaking his head. “Especially useful when there’s no other choice.” Liam said to Henley, “Don’t lift off until I tell you to. We’re going to have ourselves a little reunion first.” He was still grinning as he grabbed Major Hummer’s arm and pulled him into the helicopter. “Hello, mate. Long time no see. You’re looking fit.”
Major Hummer tossed the carryall to Liam, and without thought, buckled himself in. It had been years since he was in a helicopter, but he remembered, and it felt good. He leaned over and hugged Liam. “You look even better, all clean and sharp, Manta Ray. I really didn’t think you’d make it, but here you are. The FBI came back after they carried you out, like you told me they would, tore up the warehouse floors, banged on the walls, pulled off plasterboard. They rousted all of us who didn’t manage to get away before they showed up. When they came up to my place, you know what I did? When they stood there staring at all my newspapers, I told them they were all in order by date, so whatever date they wanted to see, I could show it to them. You want to know what I did then? I started singing that old song Dougie sings—“Country Roads”—right in their faces. They looked around some, but that was it. I watched them leave from my window, shaking their heads. They weren’t happy. Wasn’t hard to make them think I was crazy.”
“Crazy like a fox,” Liam said. “Well done, Major, you’re a genius.” Liam embraced him. “I knew I could trust you, a countryman and a soldier, knew you’d take care of my stuff for me. You didn’t pawn the bracelet I gave you yet, did you? No, I know you didn’t, that was the deal we made. When you do pawn it, remember not to take less than fifty thousand, okay?”