The Final Cut

“Bugger me. All right, I’ll start putting together a list.”

“Thank you. And Miles? Hurry.”

They hung up. Things should come together quickly now. He hoped. He looked over at Mike, dead to the world. Within two minutes he was asleep himself.

• • •

Mike woke with a start. She’d been dreaming, chasing Timmy, ready to smack him because he’d stolen her te

“Oh, yeah? You had a vision?”

“Not quite,” and he told her about Victoria Browning being two years old. He didn’t mention hacking into the records of the University of Edinburgh, but of course she knew. He recognized it in her eyes the moment she decided to give him a pass. She got up, got them some bottled water and some sandwiches.

The ham sandwich tasted good—that or he was starving. Same with Mike, since she was on her second sandwich, this one egg salad. He said, “Like I said, Browning’s identity was created two years ago, at the very begi

“It’s hard to keep secrets, Nicholas. Especially of this magnitude.”

“True. The Fox must have been engaged to steal the diamond when it looked like we would cut a deal with the Met. She created the Browning identity, came to America, and was hired on at the Met. It’s her specialty, assimilating into the fabric of the piece she’s tasked with stealing. She’s done it before.”

“So who is she? Wonder Woman?”

He had to grin. “Fu

He pulled another bottle of water from the small fridge in the galley. “I’ve been thinking. Elaine’s laptop must have had details of the museum’s security protocols. The blueprint for the theft, so to speak.”

“So? Browning worked at the museum. She already had access. So why would she need Elaine’s computer?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“Yet it was stolen from Elaine’s apartment. Someone thought it was important. But who?”

Nicholas said, “I’m thinking Andrei Anatoly. He wanted the diamond, Elaine wouldn’t help, so he killed her.”

“But Elaine was concerned for her safety. She hired a bodyguard. I suppose it’s possible she didn’t know he was part of Anatoly’s mob, but Elaine wasn’t a stupid or careless woman. I think she knew exactly who she was getting when she hired Kochen. Don’t forget, Nicholas, she didn’t say anything to your uncle Bo about any threat or danger.”

Talk about a tautological argument. Mike said, “Which brings us back to the fact that Elaine was involved in the theft.”

He drank the rest of the water and sat back down. “It’s time for a little help.”

He got out his mobile and rang the only other person who might be able to assist them.

“Savich? It’s Drummond. I was hoping you could set MAX on a task for me.”

50

Over the Atlantic Ocean

Friday, noon

Savich said, “I heard you’re on your way to Paris. Let me tell you what I’m doing before you tell me what you need.

“I’ve discovered from Interpol files that the Fox has struck at least ten times over the past ten years, and those are only the jobs they can document. They’re sure she goes back further. We need to find out who she really is, and who’s been paying her. If I can find the money trail using the stolen items as a baseline—” Savich paused. Nicholas heard him typing in the background.

Nice to be on the same wavelength with someone, Nicholas thought. This was exactly what he’d wanted Savich to do. The typing stopped.

Nicholas said, “There must be some data on who she worked for in the past, simply through the news accounts of the thefts, especially if any items have been recovered. She hasn’t exactly been subtle.”

Savich said, “I’ll correlate the dates of the known thefts and where they happened, and then we should be able to get a partial geographical profile. If we can track her current movements off the profile, we can also follow money transfers from financial institutions in those areas and match them up. If we’re successful, we can extrapolate her recent money transfers and track her current employer.”

“That’s exactly what we need.”

Savich said, “Email me everything you find, as you find it, and I’ll add it to the profile. The relationships we uncover should be enough to send you in the right direction.”

“One more thing. Since you’re already into the Interpol files, cross-reference the list with people of Indian, Pakistani, or Iranian descent. Maybe this theft has a bigger canvas. Whoever hired the Fox has major quid, not to mention patience. There’s something there, I can feel it.”

“Always trust a hunch,” Savich said. “I’ll be back as soon as MAX spits out some results.”

“Thanks, Savich. Give my best to Sherlock.”

He hung up and sent the email, then turned to Mike, who was also on her mobile. She held up a finger and kept talking and nodding as she took notes.

A moment later, she hung up. “The fingerprints done during Browning’s background check for employment at the Met were faked. They match the prints for the Browning identity.”

Nicholas said, “And they discovered the fingerprints were entered in your AFIS database two years ago, right? Why are you gri

“No one can spend day in and day out working in an office without leaving something of themselves behind. Louisa said Browning had wiped her office thoroughly, but she noticed some tooth marks on the pencils. She tested them, and shazzaam—DNA. Browning chewed on her pencils, and forgot to throw them away. They’re putting it into the system now.”

“Well done, Louisa. But if there’s no DNA on file, there won’t be anything to match it to. Unless we catch her.”

“Until we catch her,” Mike said, “and you’re right, but don’t forget what we can get from DNA. We can determine eye color and racial makeup, and at the very least we’ll be able to reverse the mitochondria and search for family members as well. Louisa tells me she’ll have the results within twenty-four hours.”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

He watched her unbraid her hair, smooth it free with her fingers, and begin to rebraid it, her movements sure and fast, weaving in three separate hanks of hair. “Gray said the additional bodega video feed showed a strange man entering Elaine’s building the morning of her murder. They canvassed the entire apartment building, spoke to everyone who lives there, and no one can identify him.”

“A him. Not Victoria Browning disguised?”

She shook her head. “It couldn’t be Victoria, he was too tall. And too thin. So we could have our killer on video. Remember, Gray has an ex-girlfriend at the NSA? She came through with the trace on the cell phone. Browning threw it in the Hudson River on her way to the airport, but it turns out they found another call, made from a cell phone with a sequential serial number from the one who called your phone during the attack at the Met. Gray figures they were disposable cell phones bought at the same time, a two-for-one package. The call from the second phone was scrambled, but it originated over the Atlantic, heading east.”

“Browning?”

“The timing’s right. They ran the number she called, but there was no answer. She called it twice in one hour.”