“I’m up to it, Agent Ficke. How do we handle the painting?”
“Here… Check it out.”
A female agent brought out a bundled, heavily taped package. “What’s in it?” I asked.
“A lot of trouble for you if they get to open it,” Ficke replied. “So, ask to see the check before they do. If they give you a hard time, we’re coming in to get you.”
I looked at Ellie. “You’ll be there?”
“Of course I’ll be there.”
“There’ll be backup on every level,” Ficke said. “Once you get what we need, or they open the goods, we’ll break down the door. You’ll be okay.”
I’ll be okay. I eyed him. Like some expendable private being waved out to test a minefield. Go ahead, you’ll be okay. One thing everyone in the room knew: Stratton had no intention of letting me leave that hotel room alive.
“I want to talk to Ellie,” I said.
“She’s not running this show,” Ficke said rather sharply. “Any questions, address them to me.”
“I don’t have any questions. I need to talk with Ellie. And not here. Alone. Outside.”
Chapter 100
WE WENT OUT on the pool deck. I saw Ficke watching us through the blinds, so I led her down the steps to the beach, my office, as far away from him as possible.
Ellie rolled up her pants and left her shoes on the stairs. Then we walked out onto the sand. The sun was starting to set. It was going on six.
I took Ellie by the hand. “Nice out here, huh? Kind of makes me miss my old lifeguard days. Didn’t know how good I had it then.”
I held her by the shoulders, and brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “You trust me, Ellie, don’t you?”
“You don’t think it’s a little late to be asking me that question, Ned? I didn’t arrest you when I had the chance. We stole a car. Withheld information, kidnapped a material witness… In my book, that goes as trust.”
I smiled. “You should’ve gotten out of that car when I told you to. Things would be a whole lot different.”
“Yeah, you’d probably be in jail, or dead. And I’d still have pretty good job security. Anyway, as I recall, I didn’t have much choice at the time. You did have a gun.”
“And as I recall, the safety was on.”
I pulled her close and I could feel her heart beating forcefully against my chest. Neither of us knew what was going to happen tonight. And afterward, the whole world would be different. I had felony charges waiting for me. I’d have to do time. Afterward, I’d be a felon and she’d still be an FBI agent.
“What I’m asking, Ellie, is for you to keep trusting me. Just for a while longer now.”
She eased away from me and tried to read what was in my eyes. “You’re scaring me, Ned. We can nab him. This whole thing’ll be over. Please, just for once, play this one by the book.”
I smiled. “You gonna be there for me, Ellie?”
“I told you,” she said, looking at me with resolve in her eyes, “I’ll be right outside. I wouldn’t let you go in there alone.”
I know you wouldn’t. I pulled her against me again and looked beyond her at the setting sun.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I meant afterward.
Chapter 101
JUST TURNING ONTO the long drive leading up to the Breakers took you back to another world.
The twin majestic towers awash in glowing light, probably Palm Beach ’s best-known sight. The stately loggia of arches welcoming visitors to the lobby, the rows of light-kissed palms. Once, Flaglers and Mellons and Rockefellers went there in lavish private rail cars. Now it was people who were trying to act like them.
Tonight I was going to crash it for a while.
I pulled Ellie’s Crown Vic behind a Mercedes SL 500 and a Rolls in the redbrick circle leading to the lobby doors. Couples stepped out in tuxes and fancy gowns, adorned with glittering jewels. I was in a pair of jeans and a green Lacoste shirt, which was hanging out. Even the parking attendant gave me a look as if I didn’t belong.
I’d heard about these society galas, even waited at a couple when I first came down. They were near the center of the Old Guard social life down there. For this and that charity, the invitations read. More like so a few doyennes could show off their jewels and parade around in stylish gowns, eating caviar and sipping champagne. Who knows how much actually made it to the “cause” being celebrated? I remembered hearing somewhere that a woman whose husband died suddenly kept him on ice for weeks until the party season ended.
Here goes nothing, Ned…
I tucked the thick wrapped bundle the feds had given me under my arm and went inside the lobby. Lots of people were milling about, some in formal attire, others in the red jackets of hotel personnel, a few in casual wear. I figured any of them could be Stratton’s men watching me. Or FBI.
The FBI was probably freaking out about now, wondering what the hell was going on.
I glanced at my watch – 8:40. I was twenty minutes ahead of schedule.
I headed straight to the front desk. An attractive desk clerk named Jennifer greeted me. “I think there’s a message for me,” I said, “under Stratton.”
“Mr. Kelly,” she said with a smile, as if expecting me. She came back with a sealed hotel envelope. I showed her ID and ripped open the flap. Written on a hotel notecard were just two words: Room 601.
Okay, Ned. Let’s get it done. I held my breath for a second and tried to calm my nerves.
I asked Jennifer where the Make-A-Wish dinner was being held, and she pointed toward the Circle Ballroom, down the ornate lobby corridor and to the left.
I tucked the wrapped package, “the Gaume,” under my arm and followed two couples in formal dress, who I was sure were headed to the ballroom.
Suddenly a voice scratched in my earpiece. Ficke, and he was pissed. “Goddammit, Kelly, what are you doing? You’re twenty minutes ahead of the plan.”
“Sorry, Ficke. Plan’s changed.”
Chapter 102
I PICKED UP MY PACE until I could see the Circle Ballroom up a set of stairs beyond the lobby bar.
There was a small crowd gathered at the door, people in tuxedos and evening gowns giving their names and presenting their invitations. Not exactly airline security. The kind of band music you swear you’ll never dance to was coming out of the ballroom. I just sort of melted in behind.
A white-haired woman looked at me as if I were Sponge-Bob SquarePants. The diamond pendants in her ears were about as large as Christmas ornaments. I squeezed past her, and then I was inside. “Sir!” I heard, but I ignored it.
You better make this work, Neddie.
The room was actually breathtaking, filled with fresh flowers, and this incredible chandelier hung from the coffered ceiling. The band was playing “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” done cha-cha style. Every woman I passed was dripping in diamonds – necklaces, rings, tiaras. The men wore crisply pressed tuxedos, with white kerchiefs folded perfectly. One man was in a kilt.
I started looking feverishly for Stratton. I knew I looked about as out of place as a Maori tribesman at the queen’s tea party.
Suddenly someone lifted me by the arm from behind, edging me away from the crowd. “Deliveries are in the back, Mr. Kelly,” the person spat into my ear.
I spun around. It was Champ, grinning. “Had you going for a second, didn’t I, mate!”
He was dressed like the perfect waiter holding a silver tray of caviar blinis. Except for the orange hair, he fit right in.