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“You say there’s a lot of jewelry.”

“Yeah.”

“Jewelry is not easy to get rid of.”

“When I say jewelry I mean diamonds . . . little packets of them.” Rapp held his hands together. “I don’t know how much they’re worth, but it’s got to be a lot.”

The man nodded while he thought it over. “If I decide to do this I will take half the cash and all the jewels.”

“Shit!” Rapp came half out of his chair. “Why does everyone want to fuck me?”

“I don’t want to fuck you, I just want it to be worth my while.”

Rapp took a couple of deep breaths and settled down. “Fifty-fifty . . . that’s the only way I’ll do it. You want half the cash then I get half the diamonds.”

“I don’t think so. I am taking all the risk.”

“If I don’t bring this to you, you get nothing. Now you get half of a lot, and all you have to do is walk in there while we’re at the gallery tonight.”

“And how do I know you’re not setting me up?”

Rapp shook his head as if the idea was preposterous. “What . . . you think I work for the fucking police? They hire Americans now? If they wanted to bust you they’d roll up on you right now. I just want my money and my passport and some of those diamonds.”

The man was quiet for a long moment as he looked off into the distance. “How do you know you can trust me?”

“Easy . . . everybody around here knows who you are. If you don’t meet me tomorrow with my stuff, I’ll turn you over to the cops. They’ll know where to find you.”

“Then you will be implicated.”

“I’ll play the dumb American and tell them you got me high and I blacked out. I woke up and my wallet was gone. I had the key and codes written down on a piece of paper in my wallet.” Rapp stopped and waved his hands. “But listen, we don’t need to go down that road. There’s more than enough for us to split. No need to get greedy. You do it tonight, we meet up two days from now right here, and we’re both happy men.”

Luke Auclair was more than intrigued. He’d been studying business on and off at the Collège de France for five years. His grades were less than spectacular and he’d taken to selling narcotics to pay his burdensome bills. Why he never looked for an honest job was a question Auclair avoided asking himself. The truth was he was lazy, always had been lazy, and would likely be lazy until his dying day. If there were a way to avoid work, he would find it. This American was desperate. That much was obvious. He tried to calculate the worst-case scenario. Getting caught in the apartment, but then again he would have a key. He could claim the American invited him. After that, it was cash and diamonds. It sounded like maybe a lot of diamonds. His take could easily be over twenty thousand for a few hours of risk. He liked that kind of return. Auclair began to nod. “All right . . . but if I get there tonight and I don’t think it looks right, I will walk.”

“Fair enough.”

“What should I call you?”

“Frank . . . Frank Harris.” Rapp figured the guy would see the name on the passport, so he might as well tell him the truth. Rapp doubted this guy would even make it through the front door. If they stopped him and were nice, it would be a good indication that he could trust Kennedy and possibly Hurley. If they grabbed him, threw a bag over his head, and stuffed him in a trunk, he’d know he had bigger problems. “What should I call you?”

“You may call me Luke.”

“Good.” Rapp slid a piece of paper across the table. It had the name and address of a café written in black ink. “You know this place?”

Luke nodded.

“Good, I’ll meet you there tonight at seven. It’s only a few blocks from the apartment. I’ll give you the key, the codes, and tell you where the safe is.”

Auclair nodded. “And, again, if I think things don’t look right I will walk.”

“Got it.” Rapp stuck out his hand and they both shook. Standing, he said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

CHAPTER 21

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

THOMAS Stansfield was sitting behind his desk wearing khaki slacks and a blue oxford shirt. It was his Sunday uniform. He’d been to church with his wife and several of his children and grandchildren and was looking forward to heading back to the house on the Potomac for a nice egg bake and some time with his grandkids: Molly, Bert, and little Thomas. Molly was four, and in Stansfield’s biased opinion, she already showed great potential. She was in fact the only person in the entire family who dared boss him around, which provided great entertainment for Stansfield’s grown children. Stansfield himself was highly amused at the confidence displayed by this three-foot-tall towhead. Her little brother Bert didn’t do much other than run around the house and run into things, and little Thomas was, well, little. He was only three months old and Stansfield didn’t have much interest in them until they could verbalize their demands. His wife liked the infants, so they divided and conquered, and it was great fun.

His own kids were shocked by how hands-on he was, since he had been absent for much of their childhood. It had been a different time, of course. Dads were nowhere near as involved in the lives of their children as they were now. There had been some interesting debates about this at the family dinner table of late, and Stansfield for the most part let his kids voice their opinions and take their shots at him. They knew where he worked. Beyond that, they were smart enough to fill in the blanks and extrapolate. They’d been raised in multiple countries and again it was no secret who Dad worked for, but he never talked about it. It was a steadfast rule that he had not broken once during his entire career.

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