A Quarter for a Kiss (37 page)

Unfortunately, the FBI agents said, a meeting “at the Baths” could have numerous actual locations. Dianne may have meant somewhere down and among the rocks; or the area known as the “Top of the Baths,” where there was a restaurant, some shops, and a pool; or the ferry dock at Virgin Gorda where one would go to reach the natural landmark. Consequently, they had put agents at all of these locations, disguised as tourists, cabdrivers, waiters, and boaters—most armed with video links and microphones.

Everyone seemed to have a different opinion about where the meeting would take place. They were hoping to have a satellite visual of the
Enigma
and simply follow it over from St. John, but so far the connection was a bit problematic. The FBI didn’t want to risk following the boat by sea, and I didn’t blame them. The only reason Zach hadn’t noticed me following him yesterday was because he hadn’t been expecting to be followed. Today, these people would be much more alert and would certainly notice a tail.

At about ten minutes before eight, an agent spotted the
Enigma
just pulling into a slip at the marina. When the big boat was tied up, Dianne and two men disembarked and caught a taxi up to the Top of the Baths. Once there, she and the two men went down a rocky trail toward the sea.

Watching the agents track all of this by shifting the surveillance from person to person and back again was like watching a finely choreographed dance—or a brilliant football play. Each agent seemed to know his place on the team, and together their efforts were nearly seamless.

At the bottom of the trail, there was a bit of concern when Dianne and the men disappeared among the giant boulders. But about that time a sharp-eyed agent spotted Yves Merveaux on the deck of a sailboat nearby. He and his bodyguard were moored out in the water about 50 yards from the beach at the Baths.

As we watched one of the monitors, Merveaux and his man put down an inflatable dinghy with a little outboard motor, climbed aboard, and started it up. They puttered in toward shore, veering off into the midst of the giant rocks.

“Point of convergence, people,” the agent at the monitor said. “Craig, looks like this’ll be yours for the taking.”

Apparently one of the agents in a boat, a simple craft that seemed to be floating harmlessly offshore, had the best vantage point.

“She’s there!” Craig whispered sharply. “She’s there on the rocks, waiting for him.”

There was a good sound connection, and we all listened as the little dinghy pulled up to the sand and Merveaux and his man climbed out. Then, as we watched the screen, we saw Dianne emerge from the rocks. I realized that except for Eli’s photos, it was the first time I had really seen her. For such a secretive and elusive creature, the thing that struck me the most was how
normal
she looked. Sporting a black malliot and a floral skirt, she looked like a tourist taking in the early morning sunshine. The big sunglasses and matching scarf over her hair lent her a sort of “Jackie O”-type appearance.

“How are you, Dianne?” Merveaux asked in a French accent as the two stood there on the beach and shook hands.

“I’m fine,” Dianne replied.
“Ça va?
”

“Ça va bien
,” Merveaux answered. “My gout is giving me problems. Otherwise, I can’t complain.”

Dianne made a gesture with her hand. Suddenly, one of the men who had come with her came out from behind a rock, walked over to Merveaux, and began running a bug sweeper up and down his body. Once that was finished, he ran it on the bodyguard, who cooperated by standing there on the beach with his arms outstretched.

I bent closer to the monitor to look at the man with the bug sweeper, expecting to see Earl. Instead, this fellow was older and heavier. When the second man appeared from between the rocks, I grabbed Tom’s arm.

“It’s them!” I said. “The men who beat up Chris Fisher!”

“Who?” the agent asked, zooming a bit closer on their faces.

“A private investigator in St. Thomas was roughed up by two men,” I explained. “Those goons look a lot like the artist sketches that were done.”

“Send those images to Quantico,” Agent Holt said to the technician. “They can run them through FRS.”

“FRS?” I whispered.

“Face Recognition Software,” he replied. “If those two guys are in the database, they’ll be able to ID them.”

When the bug sweeps were complete, Dianne paused and looked out at the water, shielding her eyes to scan the boats on the horizon. She looked straight at the camera without really seeing it and then moved on.

“Everyone hold positions,” the agent at the monitors said. “They are hyperalert. Repeat. Hold positions. Craig, you’ve got sound and picture coming in clear.”

“I’m right at a thousand feet,” he responded softly. “If they go for a stroll, I’ll lose the sound.”

For the moment everyone stayed exactly where they were. Then Dianne motioned for Merveaux to follow her, and we all held our breath as they started walking. They didn’t go far, however; they simply walked to the nearest boulder and sat. Once they had done that, the other three men separated on the beach, keeping watch, stiff and conspicuous.

“You have what I want?” Merveaux asked.

“I have the location and the code,” Dianne replied. “You can pick and choose as you desire.”

“But I have to go in and get it myself?”

“That’s correct.”

Merveaux nodded, looking around for a long moment.

“That is not worth three,” he said. “Too much risk. I will give you one.”

“
One?
” she cried angrily. “I will give you the code for one. You want the location, that’s two more.”

“That’s ridiculous. I can get the location from someone at SPICE.”

“How can you do that?” she asked with a wry smile. “When they aren’t even aware that their collection has been relocated—the best parts of it, anyway?”

“What are you saying?”

“That there’s a half-empty climate controlled storage facility in San Juan. Someone’s going to be very surprised come Monday morning.”

“You are fearless, Dianne.”

“That’s why I’m rich, Yves.”

“All right, I cannot resist. Three million. Give me the drop.”

She spoke as she adjusted her sunglasses, breaking the sound.

“The first will be at th…ist,” she said.

“What was that?” the agent at the monitor asked.

“I think she said ‘At the Christ,’” the agent on the mike replied.

“What time?” Merveaux asked.

“Soon as you can make it happen,” Dianne replied. “Once the first transfer has been made, the code will be there. No transfer and, well, that was your chance. I can’t wait till next week.”

Merveaux laughed, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Do not kid yourself, Dianne. You are not ab…to walk away from this any more….th…I am.”

She shielded her eyes and looked out at the water again.

“After you have the code,” she said, “make the second transfer. If it goes through, the drop will be at F twel…” once again, her arm crossed her mouth and her voice faded. “…ake’s Pond.”

“You sure nobody else will be there?”

“No, the site’s quiet today. You know where it is?”

“Of course. I just have to find F twelve. I assume it’s marked.”

“Yes. You shouldn’t have any problems there, except maybe with hikers. But don’t worry. They all move along eventually. You can just pause and reflect.”

They both chuckled.

“Very well, then. It is nice to talk with you, Dianne, but this sun is about to burn a hole right through my head. I sh…worn a hat.”

They both stood.

“It was good to see you again, Yves,” she said. “I wish you…I wish you all the best in life.”

“
Au revoir
for now,” he said, stepping into the boat.

“Yes,
au revoir
,” she replied.

Merveaux and his bodyguard climbed into the dinghy and puttered away. Dianne stood on the beach watching him for a moment before turning around and going back the way she had come.

Forty

“We just witnessed a three-million-dollar transaction,” Agent Holt said, coming back into the room as the men at the monitors tracked Dianne and her two goons back to the
Enigma
. “And it looks like it’s all going down today.”

From what I already knew about the situation—combined with what I could understand of the conversation—my guess was that Yves Merveaux had just agreed to pay Dianne Streep two million dollars for the location of artifacts that had been stolen from SPICE. He would then give her a million more for the security code that protected those artifacts, allowing him to go in and steal whatever he wanted of them without being caught. Merveaux would be paying the money to Dianne via wire transfers, and she would be leaving him the information at two different drop points.

“The question is,” said Tom as we talked about it, “where are those drop points? From their conversation, I’m just not clear.”

“The bigger question,” Abraham added, “is when can we move in and make some arrests?”

Agent Holt heard Abraham’s comment.

“With the tape we have, we could make an arrest right now for conspiracy to sell,” he said. “But we would do better to wait until the money changes hands and the goods are received. Then we can get him on possession and her for trafficking.”

Of course, if we couldn’t figure out the drop points, then it might be a little more difficult. At least the satellite connection was now working; both the
Enigma
and the
Cezanne
, Merveaux’s boat, were being tracked as they sped away from Virgin Gorda.

“Roll the tape again,” the agent said, and soon we were listening to a replay of the brief conversation on the beach.

It definitely sounded as though she said “at the Christ” for the first drop.

The
Christ?

I was thinking they meant something in a church, but then Abraham’s face broke into a big grin.

“The Christ!” he cried. “There used to be a statue of Christ on Peace Hill. It blew down in a hurricane, but everyone knows where it used to stand. There is still an old windmill there. I bet that is the place!”

“Let’s go, then,” Holt said.

Once again Tom, Abraham, and I were relegated to the background as the FBI did their thing. One by one the agents returned from their posts and everything was packed up quickly to shift the base of operations over to St. John. Abraham had already cleared the way legally with his warrants. Now he would work with the FBI to bring this matter to a close—hopefully today.

Meanwhile, Tom was pacing over to the side, puzzling out the second drop site.

“F twelve,” he said to me as he paced. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Is it an address? A beach? A boat?”

Suddenly, he stopped pacing.

“Play it again,” he said, walking to the recorder.

“We have to pack up,” the agent said, just about to pull the plug.

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out his digital voice recorder.

“Just one more time,” he said, holding it out and turning it on.

The agent obliged and Tom was able to record the snippet of tape.

“Are you finished now?” the agent asked impatiently.

“Sorry,” Tom replied. “Go ahead with what you were doing.”

He and I went back to the corner, staying out of everyone’s way and listening to the exchange several times.

“After you have the code, make the second transfer. If it goes through, the drop will be at F twel…ake’s Pond
.”

“You sure nobody else will be there?
”

“No, the site’s quiet today. You know where it is?
”

“Of course. I just have to find F twelve. I assume it’s marked
.”

“The site’s quiet today,” Tom repeated. “She means s-i-t-e. Site. Like,” his eyes widened, “an archaeological site!”

“A dig site!” I echoed.

“That’s why it sounds familiar. F twelve is an archaeological location. What is ‘ake’s Pond’?”

“Drake’s Pond is my guess,” Abraham said excitedly, crossing toward us. “There is a dig at a place called Drake’s Pond, out on the south side of the island. It’s a bit of a hike but quite a thing to see once you get there.”

“Is that the dig Jodi’s friend Sandy has been leading?”

“No, this is a different dig. An older one. I think they are almost finished with this one.”

“Good work, folks,” Holt said. “Now we’ve got both drop locations.”

Everyone was ready to go, so we headed to Virgin Gorda’s public marina. The place was certainly busier now than it had been when we had arrived before dawn. A group of tourists was pouring from a ferry, most of them in bathing suits and cover-ups, carrying tote bags and ice chests. As we sped toward St. John across the deep blue water, I couldn’t help but think that though I would have loved being the one to race in and find the final evidence, things were out of my hands now. When we reached St. John, we quickly cleared through customs and then went with those who were setting up the base of operations in a small public works facility that Abraham had managed to commandeer, a non-descript building he said was often used for a multitude of purposes, including police training and community education. Tom and I watched with great interest as agents were dispatched all over the island—some to observe Dianne’s house, some to keep an eye on the
Enigma
, and some to watch the drop points. Though we didn’t have audio or video surveillance of the area yet, the agents were wired for sound, so they could describe what was happening as it happened.