“And so?” Nikki asked when Simon closed the photograph. “What does it mean?”
“Another piece of the puzzle.”
Continuing to scroll through the messages, Simon spotted a receipt from the Four Seasons Hotel, Washington, DC, for the prince’s stay in the U.S. capital the week before.
And he picked up the letter in DC.
Thirty minutes later, after digging through the prince’s emails and finding nothing further of interest, Simon closed the laptop. He gazed outside. Everything looked so pretty on the surface. Clean. Well ordered. Idyllic. Only when you looked closer did you notice the cracks.
“Well?” Nikki asked. “Satisfied?”
“Not the word I’d use.” He checked his phone to see if Neill had sent a message about the Russian assassin’s whereabouts. He wondered if it really was Neill with Reagan all those years ago and, moreover, if there was anything to the look between him and Vladimir Putin. The fact that Putin and Reagan—and Reagan’s handlers, presumably some of whom were CIA—were together had to mean something. Why else would Borodin send the picture to Prince Abdul Aziz?
“What’s bothering you?” Nikki asked.
“Nothing. Just anxious to get to Marseille.”
“Don’t lie. We’re a team now, right?”
“I’m wondering why Neill hasn’t let us know if he’s been able to track down the Russian who killed Falconi.”
“Should he have?”
“My guess is yes. If we could track the number with a device anyone can buy over the counter, I’m fairly certain that a man with his resources could do a damn sight better.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Let me put it this way: I don’t distrust him,” said Simon, “yet.”
“How did he find you?”
“I’d done some work for people in his line of work before. Background checks. Industrial espionage. Nothing like this. They must have looked into my past. A deep dive. That’s what they do, you know.”
“I have a question,” said Nikki. “If this guy is smart enough to find exactly the right person to go after this letter, how come he put a guy like Coluzzi onto the job to steal it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t think he looked into Coluzzi’s past as deeply as he looked into yours? Did he really expect a career criminal to keep his end of the bargain?” Nikki looked at Simon, eyes mocking him. “He must not be as smart as you think.”
Simon said nothing. He looked out the window again, seeking refuge in the passing countryside. Neill wasn’t one to misjudge a person. If anything, he was smarter than Simon had thought. He looked back at Nikki, meeting her gaze, disliking her for having given voice to his deepest concerns. More and more, he felt like a puppet on a string.
He stood and started down the car.
“Hey,” said Nikki, rising and touching his arm. “What’s wrong? You mad?”
“Good guess,” said Simon. “You must be a detective.”
“Simon, what is it?”
“Look,” he said. “I haven’t put all the pieces together. I’m sorry if I don’t have all the answers yet.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“I need to stretch my legs,” said Simon, hearing the apology in her voice, realizing he’d been rash. “I’m going to hit the dining car.”
“Wait,” said Nikki, picking up her handbag. “I’ll come with you.”
Chapter 46
