She turned her attention to the various boats of different sizes lining the dock, each undoubtedly carrying an interesting story about the owners and those otherwise occupying the vessels. The same was certainly true for Eddie and his boat. As she came close to it, Raquelle strained her eyes to see if she could see her brother aboard. She thought that she spotted some movement. Or maybe not.
“Eddie,” she called out to alert him of her presence when she was a couple of boats away. “Are you there?”
Getting no response, Raquelle got to within one boat of her brother’s when suddenly his Crest Savannah 250 SLSC exploded and burst into flames before her very horrified eyes. She screamed in utter shock. For a long moment she was frozen, as if stuck in quicksand. Butwhen this passed, she somehow felt compelled to try and go onto the boat to rescue Eddie, even at risk to her own safety.
Just as she headed in that direction, her pulse skipping a beat, Raquelle felt strong hands holding her back from behind. She looked over her shoulder and into the chiseled heart-shaped face of her ex-husband.
Below black hair in an attractive crew cut, his stone-gray eyes peered at her as he said resignedly, “There’s nothing you can do to save him.”
In spite of hearing his voice of reason, Raquelle furrowed her brow defiantly, as the enormity of the moment that her brother had been burned alive hit her like a ton of bricks. Beyond that, the fact that Landon happened to be at the scene without her phoning him left her all the more disturbed, in light of Eddie’s implication that her ex was instrumental in the circumstances that led to the inferno they were both witnessing like a horror film that was all too real.
And much scarier than Raquelle wished to contemplate.
* * *
Two Hours Earlier
Columbia, South Carolina
FBI SPECIALAGENTLANDONBRISCOEfelt the adrenaline rush as he and another agent from the Bureau’s Art Crime Team were about to execute a search warrant on Choi’s Art Gallery on Main Street in the central business district of downtown Columbia. It was the culmination of a six-month investigation into the theft and illegal trafficking of expensive Asian art by a gallery owner, NicholasChoi, and his associate, art dealer Sheila Hanee. First reported by law enforcement to the National Stolen Art File, or NSAF, the FBI’s database of stolen art and cultural property, the missing art belonged to the Smithsonian Institute’s National Museum of Asian Art.
And will soon be returned to its rightful owner, Landon told himself, feeling confident. At thirty-six, he stood tall at six-three—much of his body muscular beneath the FBI blue vest and professional clothing. He lived for moments like this, ever since joining the Bureau’s Criminal Investigative Division’s Transnational Organized Crime unit three years ago and taking on TOC operations involved in art-related crimes. The work had him moving between field offices in Charlotte, North Carolina; Las Vegas, Nevada; and his current location, the FBI Columbia field office based in Lexington County, in Lexington, South Carolina. Prior to that, he’d spent more than six years dividing his time between the Bureau’s Environmental Crime and White-Collar Crime programs.
Landon had attended the University of South Carolina, where he majored in criminology and criminal justice at the College of Arts and Sciences and came away with a BA, MA and PhD. Not to mention a wife—until she wasn’t one a few years later. Just the opposite of his own mother, who had recently become a newlywed after being on her own for years, ever since his father’s unexpected death from a cardiac arrest.
Landon returned to the moment at hand as he regarded Special Agent Katie Kitagawa. Katie was nearly thirty and slim, with a brunette flipped-out bob and wore round glasses over hazel eyes. “You ready to do this, Kita?” heasked, using the nickname she had been given by others in the Bureau as a short to Kitagawa and play on Katie, which she had eventually warmed up to. He already had the answer to the question, knowing full well that she was always prepared to slap the cuffs on any deserving suspect once they had the goods to work with.
“Absolutely.” Katie flashed her teeth. “Let’s put Choi and Hanee out of business before they can sell any more stolen paintings!”
“All right.” Landon put a hand on his Springfield Armory 1911 Tactical Response Pistol with an Agency Optic System, or 1911 TRP AOS .45 ACP caliber handgun tucked into the tan leather tactical holster at his side. “Go,” he said, and gave a nod to personnel from the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division, who were assisting in the operation.
Within minutes, they had served the search warrant to a fortysomething, well-dressed female employee with brunette hair in a shag style, who was fully cooperative. Beyond the impressive showroom with its art pieces, Landon discovered what they were looking for in a back room—on display on the walls, as if only for a select audience of buyers.
Nicholas Choi and Sheila Hanee, who had been tracked by other agents while riding together in a white Lincoln Corsair SUV, were stopped and taken into custody without incident.
“Another case for prosecutors to have at it,” Katie said satisfyingly as Landon walked to her cypress-gray Chevrolet Tahoe in the parking lot.
“With some major help from us,” he pointed out, knowingthat their input was imperative for any successful conviction.
She nodded in agreement. “Always.”
“Catch you later,” Landon said, which was code for at any time—day or night—as their investigations both crisscrossed and went in separate directions, depending on the caseload and, at times, involvement with other law enforcement agencies in cases that overlapped.
He watched briefly as she climbed into her SUV before he moved toward his own dark ash metallic Chevy Tahoe.
It wasn’t till he was inside that Landon thought to check his cell-phone messages, having put that on hold while the mission was underway. He lifted the phone from the side pocket of his dark blue trousers and saw that there was exactly one message.
From Eddie Jernigan. His ex-brother-in-law. And current confidential human source.
Landon had recruited him as part of an ongoing investigation into a Native American art theft, forgery, and money-laundering ring. Using his on-again, off-again occupation as an art dealer provided the perfect cover for Eddie to gather information from those operating illegally in the world of art and relay it back to him using a burner phone.
Investigative statement analysis, along with data from the NSAF had indicated to Landon that the info passed along was credible. The fact that Eddie had been implicated himself in the handling (or mishandling) of forged art but given an out with his cooperation gave him more than enough incentive to work with the Art Crime Team.
In addition to putting organized art thieves out of business and into prison, federal law violations of the NativeAmerican Graves Protection and Repatriation Act required the repatriation of stolen art or cultural items. At the same time, Landon was promoting continual discourse between those mostly affected, such as American Indian tribes, art museums, and galleries.
Landon had chosen not to divulge to his ex, Raquelle, that Eddie was working for him as a confidential informant, or CI. Not only would it have defeated the purpose of the secretive nature of Eddie being undercover, but the knowledge could have potentially placed her in danger. Even with the somewhat strained—or more like nonexistent—relations between him and his former wife, Landon would never have wanted her to be put in any peril. Eddie made it clear that they were on the same wavelength in keeping Raquelle out of it.
So what does Eddie have for me?Landon asked himself as he listened to the message.
