After a long flight and an hour or so of fitful rest, she arrived in France and made her way to the drop-off point with only a few hours to spare. The man behind this little game was clever. He’d ordered her to place the painting inside a very specific and unlocked shipping container. She figured that would be easy enough to spy on, so she found a loading crane that happened to be out of use and climbed the scaffolding until she had a good enough view of the steel box but could remain relatively unseen.
Her plan was to watch until someone picked up the painting and then follow them. Not a great plan, she admitted to herself. It was direct and over simple. But it was all her tired mind could think of on short notice. She lay across two support bars, keeping most of her weight on her stomach and elbows.
She’d been watching the container for thirty minutes when the first person came into view. A guy in a hard hat and wearing gray coveralls walked around the end of the row and straight over to the metal crate. He stopped at the two bay doors and checked the padlock then waved at someone over by a stack of similar containers. Whoever the person was, they were just out of Adriana’s field of vision. She didn’t have to wait long to see what he was motioning for.
A gray crane forklift came into view. Black diesel smoke billowed out the rear as the driver guided the machine over the pavement to where the other man was standing. The forklift lined up next to the container, dropped the mechanism slowly to the crate’s top, and then grabbed it with two hydraulic clasps on either side. The heavy machine had no problem lifting the steel box off the ground, and within two minutes the forklift was driving away toward the gigantic shipping vessel.
“Now where do you think you’re going with that?” she said to herself as she reached up to grab the next bar to get a higher vantage point.
The forklift stopped near the water’s edge and lowered the container to the ground directly underneath a massive blue rail crane. The operator unhooked it and drove off, disappearing in the maze of buildings and stacks of crates. Almost immediately, the black grabbing hook rolled over the beam, centered over the container, and began lowering to the ground. The original guy on the ground guided the crane’s operator until it was locked into position and then waved at him to hoist it up.
Panic surged through Adriana’s veins. If the container were loaded onto the ship, the man holding her father wouldn’t get the painting. His warning tone from the video still rang in her head with the threat of her murder.
She climbed down the scaffolding twice as fast as she went up, nearly missing a support bar at one point with her left foot. Fortunately, she’d not let go of the one above her head and kept her balance before readjusting and continuing down.
Once on the ground, she took off at a sprint, keeping an eye on the container as it soared through the air, over side of the ship, and disappeared from view. She ran harder, tossing aside her binoculars to lose the dead weight. The distance from her hiding spot and the man on the ground was at least three hundred yards. Adriana covered it at the pace of an Olympic sprinter. She slowed to a halt just before reaching the confused man in the hard hat, taking only a second to catch her breath.
“Where are you taking that crate?” she asked in choppy French.
The puzzled worker frowned. “You cannot be here. This area is restricted. And you must be wearing one of these.” He patted his hardhat with a palm.
She shook her head. “You’re loading the wrong box. That container shouldn’t be going on the boat!” she exclaimed, pointing at the area she imagined the crate was at that moment.
He took an electronic tablet that he had tucked under one arm,propped it in his hands, and then tapped a few buttons to access a manifest. He spun it around and showed it to her. “Box 4578,” he said. “This says that one is supposed to be put on the ship.”
She shook her head violently. “No! You’re making a mistake. That can’t be right!” Then a thought occurred to her. Maybe it was irrational. At this point, she didn’t care. “You work for him, don’t you?”
The man twisted his head twenty degrees to the right, more puzzled than before. “Work for who?”
“You work for the Belgian, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,and I have much work to do. Please leave the premises, or I will have to call security.”
Fatigue and fury flooded Adriana’s mind. She pulled the 9mm pistol from her lower back and pointed it at the man’s head. “Tell me you’re working for the man who took my father.”
The man’s face went pale, and the tablet dropped to the ground, shattering every inch of the screen. He put his hands up and stared at the weapon. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you crazy or something?”
Adriana had seen lies in men’s eyes, and she’d seen honesty. Right now, she was gazing into the latter. This man, Marc, according to his name tag, was telling the truth.
She lowered her weapon and started to take off running toward the gangplank when the phone in her pocket started ringing. Her feet skidded to a stop, and she pulled out the phone. The caller ID was blank. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was getting a call at this very moment from an unidentified number.
She tapped the green button and put the phone to her ear. “Who is this?”
“Did you really think you could drop off the painting and then follow whoever picked it up? I was under the impression you were a little cleverer than that.”
It was the voice from the video, slightly less distorted, but there was no question in her mind to whom it belonged. She spun around in a circle, searching every corner, nook, and shadow her eyes could detect. Marc took off running in the other direction, making a sharp left behind the nearest container.
“Where are you?”
“Oh,you don’t need to worry about that. I’m safe, but I appreciate your concern.” The sarcasm irritated her,but he didn’t give her a chance to cut in. “I have to admit, I’m disappointed at how predictable you were in your silly attempt to stick around and try to see who was picking up the painting. No matter. The job is done, and you handled yourself well.”
Adriana wanted to say a million and one things at that very moment, but all of them were out of character for her. She prided herself on never showing emotion. Letting this guy get to her like that wouldn’t help things.
“One down, two to go,” she said coolly.
“That’s the spirit. Now, you need to get some rest over the next forty-eight hours. I will be in contact with you soon regarding the second painting. Until then.”
The man said nothing else. Adriana looked down at her phone and saw that the call had ended. There was no need to wonder how the Belgian acquired her phone number. He’d likely extracted the information from her father’s phone. A siren rang out in the distance. Marc the foreman had probably called the police, as she suspected would happen. No time to be tired yet. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, tucking her weapon into the back of her black yoga pants. Her other hand pulled her windbreaker down over the gun.
After one last look up at the container ship, she spun around and took off running. One down, two to go, she thought.
28
“I heard you ran into a bit of trouble down in Mexico.”
Frank gazed across his expensive desk with hollow eyes.
Allyson was hunched over, her elbows resting on her knees, eyes staring down at the hardwood floor. She didn’t respond at first, and so he continued.