Long Shadows (Amos Decker, #7)(24)

“Národná Banka Slovenska,” Decker read off. “P?tdesiat. It’s worth fifty of something.”

White pulled out her phone and typed in a search. She waited and then the result came in.

“It’s Slovakian. The Korun was the currency until the end of 2008. Now they use the euro. The two guys are Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius.”

“So the personal bodyguard of a murdered federal judge had old and no longer legal tender Slovakian banknotes stuffed in his mouth after he’d been shot to death?” said Decker.

He unrolled all of the bills, counted up the amount, pulled out his phone, and translated the money into dollars using an online currency calculator.

“At the old exchange rate it’s worth less than fifty dollars.”

“But it’s now worthless,” noted White.

“It looks like someone was making some sort of a point,” opined Jacobs.

“We need to find out all about Alan Draymont,” said Decker.

“His employer, Gamma Protection Services, would be a good place to start,” replied White.





Chapter 16



THE NEXT MORNING THEY TOOK Interstate 75 east and drove the roughly two hours to Miami, where Gamma Protection Services had its headquarters. It was in a sleek high-rise near the water. Agent Andrews had been filled in on the cash found in Draymont’s mouth and had driven over with them.

As they headed up in a glass-enclosed elevator, Decker said, “Protection services must pay really well.”

“Ever thought about jumping over to that side?” asked Andrews.

Decker glanced at him. “No.”

“The dollars are a lot better.”

“I have nothing I want to buy that badly.”

At the solid front doors of the protection agency they showed their creds to a camera after being prompted by a voice over an intercom, and were buzzed into the large foyer.

The place was glass and metal with sleek, low-slung couches in bold colors. Nattily dressed men and women hurried by looking important and busy.

They were asked to wait in a conference room that held broad views of the Atlantic.

Five minutes later a woman in her late thirties walked in, trailed by four others, two men and two women who looked like carbon copies of each other: trim, young, and serious, with tailored suits. The men’s ties were perfectly knotted, and the pocket squares matched the ties. The women’s hair was sculpted, their dresses hit right at the knee, and their heels were a regulation two inches in height.

Decker observed all this and sighed. Please let me get through this official gauntlet without saying shit I’ll regret.

The woman looked at him, White, and Andrews.

“Agent Andrews? It was the conference on cybersecurity, wasn’t it? We were on the same panel?”

“That’s right,” Andrews said, smiling. “These are my colleagues, Amos Decker and Agent Frederica White. This is Kasimira Roe, the CEO of Gamma.”

She shook their hands and motioned for them to sit. Decker noted that her entourage didn’t sit. They just stood against the wall, hands held in front and stared at the FBI intruders.

Decker ran his gaze down the line of clocks on the wall showing times from different cities around the world. He was startled when he spied the fourth one.

“As you can imagine we are extremely distressed about what happened to Alan Draymont and Judge Cummins,” began Roe. “It was unthinkable.”

“Well, it happened, so not so unthinkable for someone,” noted Decker.

She glanced at him. “And you’re also with the FBI?” She ran her gaze over his khakis and wrinkled white shirt that he wore untucked.

“He is,” said Andrews quickly. “From Washington, as is Agent White.”

Roe lifted an eyebrow at this. “I would have thought you were more than equal to the task, Doug.”

Decker observed Roe closely. She was around five eight, dark hair, and pale skin, lean and fit. She wore all black with black stockings and the two-inch heels. Her nails were professionally done, and her makeup was subdued but effective. Her brown eyes were luminous and alert, and they kept edging in his direction, he noted, like curious antennae. A guarded, complex woman, he concluded.

White interjected, “It’s a federal judge, so reinforcements are expected. The U.S. marshals would normally be the active agency here, but Draymont was private security.”

“And we’d like to know why she needed it,” said Decker.

“I’m not really sure how I can discuss that without breaking professional confidences,” replied Roe, looking directly at Decker.

“I would have thought they were broken as soon as the judge died,” countered Decker.

She smiled demurely. “It’s not as simple as all that, Agent Decker.”

He didn’t correct her on the agent nomenclature because it didn’t matter to him. “Well, can you explain that to us?”

“Our relationship with clients is one of trust. It does not perish with the person.”

“Well, since you failed to protect her, it might help us find out who killed her. I don’t see why that would be a problem for you. Or her. Or her family.”

Andrews, probably noting the annoyed look on Roe’s face, said quickly, “I think Decker means that it’s in all of our best interests to see that justice is done and that Judge Cummins’s killer pays for their crime.”