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Kira followed him, and they drove off in their sedan, leaving the sketchy motel in the dust. “I need ten showers to get rid of the motel room ick, but that place was a gold mine.”

“I just wish I’d seen it sooner. Did my grandfather even understand the magnitude of what he was looking for? He could have been killed over all of this. But he died of a heart attack.”

“I think your grandfather wanted proof before making claims about the treasure. He probably knew who he could trust. It’s possible he told no one what he was doing.”

“I still miss the man every day.”

Without Grandpa and his college roommate, he could have turned out just like his old man. He shuddered. They pulled into the all-night diner and a waitress named Bonnie greeted them. “Your table is ready. Your friend is already here.”

He stopped short and stared at the middle-aged woman with a beehive of red hair piled on her head. “We’re not with anyone else—”

A man waved to him from a booth in the back corner.

Ivan Sokolov. Their old friend—or nemesis. Bryce wasn’t sure which one it was.

17

AT 3:15 IN THE MORNING, in the middle of nowhere West Virginia, Kira’s brain couldn’t compute how Ivan Sokolov had found them. But there he was, sipping coffee and scarfing down a plate of bacon, eggs, and hash browns like he was on vacation. “Sit, sit,” the man said with his mouth full, gesturing to the open booth seat. Kira looked at Bryce, who narrowed his gaze.

She still didn’t trust the man one hundred percent. She slid across the green plastic seat to make room for Bryce. The waitress brought out plates of food and poured coffee without asking.

“How did you know we’d be here?” Kira watched Ivan take a sip from his mug. “You ordered food for us.”

Not that she was complaining. The aroma of extra crispy bacon and seasoned potatoes hit her nose. She dug in while Bryce sat back with his poker face firmly in place.

Ivan wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “I made an assumption. I was correct. What did you find out?”

“Theo had a secret hideout,” Kira said. “Inside the wall of a run-down motel.” What was the point in hiding it?

Ivan’s head swiveled around the room as if someone might be eavesdropping. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He seemed to be feeling the pinch of no sleep as well. He leaned across the table. “I’ve proposed an official joint venture between the FBI and the FSB on this case. Your boss, Jeremiah Turner, should be reaching out with the details. No sense putting it off. I think we need each other to stop the art smuggling ring and allow Russia to recover pieces of her history.”

Kira texted Turner to confirm that the joint venture was approved. This guy liked to name drop, and Kira wasn’t taking his word for it.

A return text lit her screen. Turner had been in contact with Ivan and would fill them in on the details soon.

“Did the Dominiks get picked up when the Feds raided the art gallery?” Kira asked. They hadn’t had time to check on this little tidbit.

Ivan smiled. “This is why I like you Americans. You had agents posted all around the place. They picked up the key players trying to sneak out the back door. But for the sake of your undercover operation, your team opted to let Alex and Sophia slip out the back.”

“And the Degas? The Rembrandt?” Bryce finally picked up a fork and stabbed at the eggs Ivan had ordered.

Ivan’s grin grew wider. “Congratulations, Agent Lambert. I think your case is closed. Davis was picked up by the FBI—caught red-handed with both. The man behind the illegal auction house will spend a long time behind bars. The smuggling ring lost its head. I’m sure they’ll regroup and start over, but for now, you’ve stopped them from looting and money laundering.”

“So who has the journals?” Bryce still had an I’m-not-trusting-you look etched across his face. But Kira knew the man was rejoicing on the inside. His hard work had paid off.

Now if only they could close down this Amber Crown Society, all their cases would be wrapped up with a tidy bow.

The waitress came to the table and refilled the coffee mugs. Ivan sat back and the plastic squeaked at his movement. “As much as it pains me to say this, I still don’t know the identity of Alexandr’s client. He won’t tell me.”

Kira stifled a yawn. She had to keep going and took several big sips of coffee. They were finally getting somewhere with Ivan, and he seemed chatty. As long as he kept talking, she’d hammer him with questions. “Do you think Sophia is involved?”

Ivan stroked his chin. The salt-and-pepper beard, neatly trimmed, gave the man a sophisticated look, which probably helped him infiltrate the Dominiks. “Oh, you’ve heard the rumor that the head of the Amber Crown Society is a woman. I thought for a while that it might be Sophia, but she pretty much says and does everything Alex tells her to. She’s in it for his money and status. I don’t think she’s behind the smuggling ring or the murders.”

“Did you figure out who’s behind the murdered security guard at the gallery?”

“Another mystery. I met with the security guard because he was supposed to hook us up with access to the statue. I was paying him to make me a copy of his key card. The man pled for more time, so I agreed to come back later in the week. I left out the back. When I heard footsteps, I realized someone had followed. Hadn’t suspected it to be Kira.”

Ivan tilted his head as if recalling a memory. “The ACS scoured the area for anyone connected to the Youngs. I think your grandfather must have been a legend in the town when it came to treasure hunting, and they paid your father a visit. I don’t believe he was on their radar, though.”