The drive to the Federal Building was mercifully quick since traffic was flowing smoothly through downtown Honolulu.Pierre ran through the implications of Sophie’s call.If the artifacts were already on a ship, they were running out of time.Maritime law was complex, and once that vessel reached international waters, boarding it was going to be difficult to justify.
He parked in the visitor section and made his way through security, the thumb drive metaphorically heavy in his pocket.The elevator ride seemed interminable.When the doors finally opened on the FBI floor, Sophie stood in the foyer area, waiting.
“Pierre, thank you for coming so quickly.”Stress had tightened the skin beneath her eyes and left the scar on her cheekbone a stark line.“Special Agent Chen’s in her office pulling together the NAGPRA documentation.Let’s take her your data.”
They made their way inside and down to Special Agent Chen’s office.The agent’s space was organized chaos—law books piled on every surface, multiple computer monitors displaying databases and documents.An Asian woman who must be Agent Chen looked up as they entered; her glossy bob was frazzled and she had pen marks on her blouse.
Sophie introduced them.Chen came around with a hand extended and they shook.“Monsieur Raveaux, excellent.Sophie said you have comprehensive provenance documentation on the artifacts?”
“Everything that was stolen has a backstory.”He handed over the thumb drive.“Cross-referenced with museum records, archaeological surveys, and cultural practitioner statements.”
“That last part is what we really don’t have time for.”Chen hurried around her desk and plugged in the drive, her eyes widening as she scrolled through the files.“This is incredible.How long did this take you?”
“I had help from a number of sources at the Bishop Museum and elsewhere, including Dr.Yoshimura,” Pierre said.“Each piece tells a story.’”
“Special Agent Chen, can you pull up the photos of the twenty-three stolen pieces?”Sophie asked.
The FBI agent opened another file, displaying high-resolution images of the artifacts and casting the image to a wall-mounted monitor.Pierre leaned in, cataloging details.“I recognize these.”
“Now we need to match the documentation you brought to each of the pieces.”Chen’s fingers flew over her keyboard.“I’m building the legal argument with each identified piece.And thank you, this background is exactly what we need.I’ll pull this together and then you can check the matches, Monsieur Raveaux.”
“Pierre, please,” he said.
She glanced up through her lashes with a brilliant smile.“And you can call me Janet.”
Sophie leaned in, ignoring the byplay.“Janet, now that you’ve got what you need, can I borrow Pierre for a minute?”
“Of course.”
Pierre followed Sophie’s confident departure from the office—clearly, she was no stranger to the layout.A few minutes later, they got off the elevator at the top floor.Storage and mechanical items took up the open space, but a hallway led to a plainly marked exit.
Sophie led him through the service door, out onto the roof.
A running track had been installed along the perimeter of the building, offering spectacular views of Honolulu, the ocean, and the mountains behind them.Several covered picnic tables in the middle of the space provided a place for meals.Trade winds whipped across the open space, carrying the scent of the sea and faint sounds of traffic below.
“We can talk here,” Sophie said, beginning to walk briskly along the track; she was clearly anxious about something.“No cameras, and the wind makes audio surveillance impossible.”
Pierre fell into step beside her.“Very cloak-and-dagger,” he said lightly.“What’s happened with your mother?I take it there’s bad news?”
Sophie’s jaw tightened.“She’s disappeared.Completely erased from CIA databases.Agent McDonald, my contact there, has supposedly retired.His replacement claims to have no knowledge of her.”
Pierre stopped walking.“That’s impossible.There must be documentation?—”
“No.”Sophie resumed walking with her long-legged stride, and he hurried to catch up.“I’ve tried every CIA contact I had—disconnected.I even tried hacking their database, but they’ve changed all the protocols and I wasn’t able to get in.”
Implications hit Pierre like a blow to the solar plexus.Pim Wat Smithson was one of the most dangerous individuals he’d ever encountered in all his years of international law enforcement.“Do you think she’s escaped?”
“I don’t know what to think.”Sophie’s voice was controlled, flat.“Maybe she’s in some black site McDonald never documented.Maybe someone higher up decided she was too valuable to waste in a cell.”
“Or too dangerous to leave alive,” Pierre said quietly.
Sophie flinched but nodded, speeding up her pace.Pierre almost had to jog to keep up.“I need you to reach out to your Interpol contacts.Quietly.See if there’s been any trace of her.New identities, unusual activity in her old networks, anything.”
“I’ll make some calls.”He touched her shoulder gently.“We’ll find out what happened.But right now, we need to focus on stopping those artifacts from getting out of our waters.”
“Yes.You’re right.One problem at a time.”Sophie took a deep breath, visibly pulling herself together.She stopped and faced him; the wind blew her hair around and sun struck her light brown eyes, turning them almost amber.She seemed to be observing him with the same intensity, then spoke.“Chen’s waiting for us.She’s reached out to a federal judge who’s sympathetic to cultural patrimony cases, but we need rock-solid documentation before we have the Coast Guard serve the documents and send a team to the vessel.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
