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Silently thanking his father, he lifted the shelves off their brackets and pressed the back of the cabinet. When he heard the telltale click, he didn’t let the panel swing out, but kept the pressure on and jumped to the side as he jerked his hand away.
His father had also taught him about booby traps.
Nothing happened.
Swinging the panel back, he found a manila envelope taped to the wall.
A shocked frown crossed his brow.
The lettersM.M.were written in bold capitals across the front.
Impressed by the detective’s ingenuity, he grabbed the envelope, tearing it open as he walked back into the light of the office. Inside he discovered a note and a strip of negatives. His pulse ticking up, he began to read.
Hello, Marco,
I knew your father. I can’t say we were friends, but we liked and respected each other. I even did the occasional job for him.
I assume you’re reading this because you have the flash drive and the photograph, and Steph Grady told you they came from me. Now you’re here to find the negative or anything else I might have. You’ll be glad to know the photo is the only one that’s clear, as you’ll see when you study the negatives.
Now you’re praying that photo and the flash drive are the only copies.
They’re not.
The originals are in a sealed envelope locked in a lawyer’s safe, a lawyer you won’t be able to track down, so don’t waste your time. If anything happens to me or Steph, or if I find out you hurt her to make her talk, those copies will be sent to the authorities.
I want to see her alive and unharmed. Make sure she’s at the Emerson Mall tomorrow morning at eleven. Her favorite boutique is there. It’s called Temptress.
You’re wondering how I could possibly make a demand like this. How could I possibly know when you would read this? Turn around and look above the blinds over the window facing the street. I’m watching you.
Taken aback, Marco looked across to the window. The tiny black box was barely discernible against the wall, but it was there. Turning his eyes back to the page, he continued reading.
One last thing.
Your father would be extremely disappointed to see you involved with the Zeppelin brothers, especially considering what they’re planning. Yes, Marco, I know. Not everything, but enough. Perhaps your agenda is not what it seems. If you can prove that, I’ll help you. If not, I’ll see you dead and pray you and the Zeppelins will burn in hell.
M.S.
Marco didn’t react, but sat behind the desk, put the note and negatives back in the envelope, then retrieved the book of matches in his pocket. Striking one to life and holding the flame to the corner, he dropped the burning evidence into the wastebasket.
“I don’t know if you can hear me as well as see me,” he declared, turning around and facing the camera, “but I can assure you Steph is very much alive, and I’m doing all I can to keep her safe. I’ll be at the mall tomorrow as requested, and my agenda is one my father would be proud of.”
Reaching into his jacket’s breast pocket, he withdrew a small burner phone.
“Obviously you know the identity of the men I’m with in that picture. I’m going to break security protocol and call them right now. I’ll put them on speaker and hopefully you’ll be able to hear the conversation.”
Praying he was doing the right thing, Marco punched in a number, then waited impatiently for the call to be answered.
“What’s wrong?”
The man’s gravelly voice was easy to hear in the empty, silent room.
“I’ve managed to get hold of something I think will be extremely helpful in catching the scumbag brothers and putting them out of business.”
“You’ve broken protocol to tell me that? Are you insane?”
“There’s more, but I don’t have time to go into it. Trust me. I needed to make this call. I’ll see you in the usual place at the usual time.”
“I can’t do better than that,” Marco exclaimed, staring up at the camera as he slipped the phone back into his jacket. “I’ll take Steph to that boutique tomorrow, but wherever you are, and whatever you think you can do, don’t fuck up, or we’ll all be pushing up daisies.”
