Chapter 20

Wil and I spent the early part of the day sightseeing after eating a full Irish breakfast. Bacon, sausages, an egg, black and white pudding, a fried tomato, fried mushrooms, and toast with butter. And it was cheap! It amazed me that anyone on the island weighed under four hundred pounds if they ate that every morning.

We sat around with half a dozen Chamber men in a café overlooking the marina where Reagan leased a boat slip, drank coffee, and waited. As afternoon turned to evening, I began to get antsy.

“Is there any way to know where he is?” I asked. It bothered me that Wil managed to put an operative on board Reagan’s ship in France, but the guy didn’t plant a tracker on the ship. I wondered if I could sell training services to the Chamber.

“We had a satellite image of the boat near Wales,” Wil said, “but things clouded up, and we lost him.”

I looked up at a typical gray, drizzling Irish sky and sighed. Depending on the weather in Ireland was a little bit like depending on a boyfriend. If you wanted to get pissed on, it was dependable.

By the time it got dark, Wil was starting to show as much impatience as I felt. Around midnight, one of the Chamber men came in and announced that Reagan had docked at Belfast, unloaded, and disappeared.

Wil looked at me as though I were going to explode and take the whole group with me.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” I said, “but I’ve had enough coffee to float an oil tanker. Anyone know a good place to get a drink?”

We trooped down the street and into a pub. As we entered the place, Wil leaned into me and said, “I thought you’d be more upset.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I said. “Patience is a virtue. Once I staked out a target for weeks, only to have him fly to South America. Reagan didn’t get to where he is by being stupid.”

“We’ll get him,” Wil said.

I gave him my best raised-eyebrow look, which I knew wasn’t half as good as his. “We’ll talk.”

And then I settled down to an appreciation of some good Irish whiskey and a couple of beers that the Irish called ‘mother’s milk’.

Over breakfast the next morning, I filled Wil in on the scouting trip I had taken out to Reagan’s estate.

“I don’t know what kind of defenses he has beyond the alarms and surveillance,” I said after detailing the security setup, “but depending on how many men he can deploy, it might be rather dangerous to go in after him. I assume that your Chamber buddies here in Ireland would love to nail him, but I notice they haven’t done much.”

“People like Reagan are adept at deniability,” Wil said. “You don’t find them going out and pulling the trigger themselves, or kidnapping teenagers and selling them as prostitutes. That’s why I was able to get the resources for this operation. He’s actually touching the art. If we can nail him in possession of millions in stolen art, and especially if we can tie him to the forgeries, then we can bring him down.”

I thought about it, then said, “What if I could find evidence in his computer systems? You know, emails, bank account transactions, stuff like that? Stuff that ties him to illegal activities or even to murders?”

Wil shook his head. “Breaking into his systems, or his bank’s system, is as illegal as his activities.” He held up his hand when I opened my mouth. “Libby, no corporation is completely clean, and the rules are set up to protect them unless they really step over the line. We’re not allowed to use computer evidence unless we already have enough other evidence to bust them.”

“I didn’t know you needed evidence to persecute someone you don’t like,” I grumbled.

He leaned across the table and kissed me on the forehead. “I don’t. I can persecute anyone I want, but I have to abide by the rules of evidence if I want to prosecute them. If I had the resources, I could set twenty people to following Reagan around day and night and make his life miserable. But he’d just fly somewhere else, and my budget can’t match his. That’s where prosecution is superior. I just lock him in a cage.”

He gave me a side-eyed look. “You haven’t been breaking into his systems or his bank, have you?”

I rolled my eyes. I used to think his naiveté was endearing, but he really should have known better than to ask that question.

“Just a surface scan,” I said, and watched his expression change to one of alarm. “His accounts are so tangled that it would take months to figure everything out. Covers and fronts and cut-outs, companies that don’t exist paying companies that do exist, and owners that aren’t owners. Either he’s a genius at generating confusion, or he employs one.”

“So why did you even ask about hacking his systems?”

“Because he keeps the art deals separate. The buyers and sellers are coded, but if we traced the money, I could probably figure it out.”

He looked thoughtful. “Well, I can’t use such information to prosecute him, but I’m sure the insurance companies would be interested, and they wouldn’t care how you got it.”

I shook my head. Wil was a bright guy, but he didn’t seem to understand how the world worked.

“Wil, if I told Myron Chung that I could access bank information, he’d have a contract on me before morning. You just don’t tell big corporations information that makes them feel threatened. An insurance company can employ a cat burglar or an assassin without a twinge of conscience. Elite hackers are on everyone’s shoot-on-sight list.”

A light went on. I could see it in his eyes.

We drove out to Reagan’s that afternoon. Compared to my previous visit, the place was bustling. Wil brought a drone with him, and sent it into the sky, then we sat back, drank coffee, and watched the screen. We saw cars and trucks coming and going along the roads leading to the estate. People inside the fence hustled back and forth. Guards made their rounds. Basically, it looked like the boss was home.

“You haven’t been inside?” Wil asked.

“No. I might be able to slip through the gate when it’s open, but only at night. Going over the fence is a non-starter.”

He chuckled. “Must drive you crazy to find a place you can’t break into.”

“I didn’t say that. It will just take a little longer. We need to check if he’s hiring anyone.”

Wil turned toward me. “And?”

“And I get hired. Doesn’t matter what kind of job they’re looking for. If not, then we find someone critical and convince them to quit. Instant job opening.”

With a laugh, he said, “And if they’re looking for a cook?”

“Absolutely no problem. There will be a lot of collateral damage, though. To make sure I get him, I’ll have to poison everyone, not just him.”

He choked on his coffee.

“Actually,” I said, “I’m hoping he’ll throw a party.”

For a moment, I thought Wil might choke again. “What? Why in the world would he do that?”

“Ego. That house is full of art, and he brought a bunch of new stuff home with him. It won’t be as much fun if he can’t show it off.”

“All the new stuff is stolen!”

“So? That didn’t bother all those rich people in Vancouver. You should know better. The rules are made by the rich and powerful to control everyone else. It’s been that way throughout history, and nothing has changed.”

We sat there and watched the screen and brainstormed. Wil suddenly zoomed the camera in on the side door on the right side of the main house. I caught a flash of copper, then the camera steadied. Kieran Murphy, dressed to go horseback riding, walked along the portico to the stables.

“That’s an idea,” I said.

“What is?”

“When she goes out, we could kidnap her, and I’ll take her place.”

Wil continued to stare at the screen as though I hadn’t spoken. We watched Kieran enter the stables, then he leaned back and turned to me.

“What makes you think she’ll go out?”

“A couple of things. She has family north of Dublin that she hasn’t seen in a couple of years, and she can’t have much of a wardrobe. I mean, how many clothes can you take on a boat when you leave in a raging hurry?”

He seemed to think about it. “You said she and Reagan are intimate.”

“She’s screwing him. I don’t know about how intimate they are.”

“Don’t you think he’ll notice that you aren’t her? I mean, they just spent a couple of months on a small ship together. She would know a lot of things that might trip you up.”

I shrugged. “Possibly.”

Someone on horseback emerged from the rear of the stables. Wil aimed the drone’s camera, and we could see Kieran’s strawberry blonde hair flowing down her back.

“Even if he doesn’t notice, what are you going to do if he gets amorous?” Wil asked.

“I’m sorry honey. I have a headache.”

“You don’t get headaches. Suppose Kieran doesn’t either?”

“That’s because I like you.” I did not want the conversation to go in that direction. He could be a little prudish sometimes, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with any possessiveness. Especially when it came to business. “Hell, Wil, I just need to get inside. If the paintings are there, I call you and you come riding in like the cavalry.”

He shook his head. “I think that’s a lousy idea. Suppose the paintings aren’t there? How do you plan to get out?”

“Then we draw Reagan out, and I go in while he’s gone.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“Stage an art show. One that will pique their interest, and send them an invitation. We can even organize a charity show, invite all the rich thieves, and donate the money to a good cause.”

“And you think that will work?”

“I’m very interested in better ideas.” I put my chin on my fist, leaned forward, and gazed wide-eyed at him, waiting for him to enlighten me. I waited a long time, then poured myself some more coffee.