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“Very clever,” Alinejad said.

Shurgin acknowledged the compliment by inclining his head.

“What info did you give him?” Szabo asked. He still looked a little angry.

“I told him that cutting the power to the museum would take out the alarm system,” Shurgin said. “And I said I would divert the guards and cut the backup system.”

“Hold on a second,” Szabo said. “Cut the backup?”

“Otherwise, the alarms will still go off and Mr. Coulomb will not come in to join us.” He looked at Szabo, then at Iravani. “If he has one way in, and one time to use it, and we know it,” he said carefully, “we will have him when he comes.” He turned his unsettling gaze on Szabo. “If your team is as good as you seem to think, we will have him.” He looked around again, as if daring anyone to object.

No one did, although Wilkins shook his head and murmured, “A bold plan. A bit risky.”

“No risk at all,” Shurgin said. “We know when and where he will come. We will be there waiting.” He looked at Iravani. “I was going to suggest that your team move into position to make the capture, Commander Iravani.” Wilkins nodded approvingly.

“Of course,” Iravani said with heavy sarcasm. “So when this criminal attacks, it is my men and my country who are in danger, and if he succeeds, we are to blame.”

“If you prefer, I will ask Lieutenant Szabo’s men,” Shurgin said. “I’m quite sure they can handle it if you can’t.”

“We’d love to snag the bastard,” Szabo said. “Dead or alive.”

“Alive,” Shurgin snapped. “It must be alive!” He blinked angrily around the circle of faces, then appeared to calm down. “The FBI has a very long list of major crimes Mr. Coulomb has been connected with. We would very much like to get our hands on Mr. Coulomb, alive, and have a long conversation—”

“And so you will risk my country’s greatest treasures?” Iravani said angrily. “To catch a simple bloody thief?”

Shurgin stared at Iravani. His eyes were huge through the lenses and somehow conveyed a weird menace. The Iranian backed up half a step, and Katrina thought, Oh, good—I’m not the only one who finds this man a little alien. “If we set the trap properly—if we do this in a competent way,” Shurgin said flatly, “there is no risk. And,” he added, raising a hand to forestall Iravani’s objection, “whoever makes the capture will look like heroes. All the media around the world will grab at this, play it up big.” He allowed a very small smile to play on his lips. “I can see headlines like ‘Revolutionary Guard Captures Thief American Police Cannot.’” He let Iravani enjoy that for a moment, then nodded. “But if you don’t think your people can handle this—”

“We will do this,” Iravani snapped. “But only if we approve of the arrangements.”

Shurgin looked at the Iranian for a few uncomfortable seconds, then nodded. “Very well,” he said at last. “Then assuming you agree—here’s what we’ll do.”

CHAPTER

31

I don’t trust that FBI guy, Lieutenant,” Snyder said when Szabo rejoined the team. “Somethin’ ’s off about him.”

“I don’t trust him, either,” Szabo said. “He gives me the fucking creeps, and there’s definitely something off. That changes nothing. He’s a federal agent.”

“Yeah, but, Lieutenant,” Tremaine said. He hesitated, then went on in his soft voice, “My brother-in-law, he’s a cop? Louisiana State Police? And he was thinkin’ ’bout trying for the FBI?”

“Is he a dumb cracker like you?” Taylor asked. “Cuz if he is—”

“Shut up, Taylor,” Tremaine said without anger. “Point is, you got to have good eyesight—think he said, no worse than 20-40?”

“Which this motherfucker clearly don’t have,” Snyder said. “So what the fuck?”

They were all silent for a minute. “Maybe he had an accident in the line of duty,” Szabo said.

The others looked at him dubiously.

“Well, shit, I don’t know,” Szabo said. “He’s got a real badge, and he’s got this French guy coming in tonight, and if there’s a chance the Frog killed the chief, I want to know about it, all right?”

Slowly, one at a time, the others nodded. Szabo nodded back and said, “Let’s get in position,” and they began to move together out of the lobby and down the hall.

“Yeah, but,” Snyder said, “even if he really is what he says—why the fuck did he make us the backup?” Snyder grumbled. “To a bunch of fucking towelheads, too—that ain’t right . . .”

Taylor grunted agreement. “I fucking hate this,” he said.

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