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Of course, Katrina thought. That is, if you really can see anything. The thick glasses made her nervous for some reason—more nervous than having an FBI special agent come into the museum and take over. But Erik had told her to do what the special agent told her to do. She probably would have anyway since she had a natural respect for authority. And in any case, the man was there to help them.
So she just folded her arms across her chest and watched as Shurgin turned his head back to the screen. “There can’t be any doubt. That’s Coulomb, and he was looking for a way in from the roof. If he doesn’t find it there, he’ll keep looking until he finds it somewhere else. But,” he said, “I think he has found it.”
Katrina looked around at the men gathered here in the conference room: Lieutenant Szabo, the leader of the Black Hat team; Iravani, the Iranian commander; Mr. Alinejad from the Iranian Special Interest section; and Wilkins, the man from the State Department. Tim had gone home, pleading a prior engagement, but Katrina was quite sure he just didn’t like being there with all the law enforcement and security men around. And Erik had left at five o’clock without even making an excuse as feeble as Tim’s. So Katrina was the only representative of the Eberhardt family, and the museum, currently present.
“I know this man,” Shurgin said, still staring at the shadowy image on the screen. “He does. Not. Quit.” He scowled at the screen, the lines on his brow deep furrows. “Last night was no more than a test run, to see what our defenses looked like from the inside.” He frowned at the screen and ran the recording backward, running the same clip again.
“Are you sure this man was here last night?” Katrina asked. “Inside the museum? With all the people here? I mean, it was— The place was packed.”
“That’s exactly why I’m sure he was here,” Shurgin said without looking away from the screen. “No one would notice him in the crowd.”
“Wait a sec,” Lieutenant Szabo said. He took a step forward closer to Shurgin. “So if he was here last night—he’s the guy killed Chief Bledsoe?”
“That’s highly likely,” Shurgin said.
“Why?” Szabo demanded.
“Either because your chief was helping him, or because he wouldn’t,” Shurgin said.
r /> Katrina actually heard a “click” as Szabo slammed his upper and lower teeth together. The lieutenant leaned a knuckle on the conference table and pushed his face close to Shurgin’s. “If you’re trying to hint that Chief Bledsoe sold us out to help this guy, you fucking well better rethink it,” Szabo said, his voice filled with barely controlled anger.
Shurgin swiveled in his seat, bringing him practically nose-to-nose with Szabo. “Either he was helping Coulomb, or he would not,” Shurgin repeated. “There is no other possible explanation.”
“Chief Bledsoe would never. EVER. Flip on us,” Szabo said softly.
Shurgin held his gaze for a long moment until Katrina wanted to scream. Then he said, very matter-of-factly, “I’m sure you’re right,” and turned back to the video screen.
Szabo took a very deep breath and then straightened up slowly.
“Perhaps we could get back to the point?” Mr. Wilkins said. “You said this French thief has already found a way in? So you believe he will be back?”
“I know he will,” Shurgin said.
“Knowledge is wonderful,” Commander Iravani said dryly. “Do you also know when he will return?”
“Yes,” Shurgin said. “He will come back tonight. And he will keep coming—until he gets in.”
“What do you suggest?” Szabo asked.
Shurgin faced Szabo and smiled, the first sign of humanity Katrina had seen from the FBI man. “I say—we let him in. Tonight.”
The Iranian snorted and looked at Shurgin as if he was crazy. “You will forgive me if I do not share your infidel sense of humor?”
“I’m dead serious,” Shurgin said, all traces of the smile gone. “If we give Coulomb one way in, he’ll take it. And when he comes—tonight—we will be waiting for him.”
“There’s not a whole lot of time to set something up,” Szabo said. “And how do we let this guy know the way in without him getting suspicious?”
“Coulomb has an informant on the inside who has been paid to clear the way for him,” Shurgin said. Szabo growled, and Shurgin looked at him, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I meant it when I said you’re right. The chief was not Coulomb’s informant. But I know who is.” He glanced around the circle of startled faces, and he smiled. “One of us, in this very room, has been selling information to Coulomb on the dark web.”
“Who?” Katrina blurted. They all looked at her. “For God’s sake, don’t go all Miss Marple on us—who would do that?”
Shurgin’s smile grew wider. “I did,” he said.
The stunned silence lasted several seconds, and then everyone erupted angrily at the same time. Shurgin rode it out with smile in place and finally held up his hand for silence. He glanced at them one at a time, his gaze settling at last on Mr. Alinejad, the Iranian diplomat, who was smiling broadly. “Mr. Alinejad has understood,” Shurgin said.
“I congratulate you—it is very nearly as devious as a Persian solution,” Alinejad said, showing a double row of very white teeth. “You offer him a piece of meat—but it also has in it a hook, correct?”
Shurgin nodded. “I offered the information for sale on the dark web,” he said. “And I sorted through the replies until I had Coulomb.”
