Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

jewelry specialists.”
    “Is CGSI any better off for doing its own security?” she asked.
    Sam turned and went to work on the computer keyboard. “They’ve been hit once in four years. South American gang MO. That was two years ago.” He tapped out a rapid series of commands, calling up an FBI evaluation of various companies involved in the gem and jewelry trade. The screen changed to a graphic representation. “Considering the amount and value of the stuff they move, CGSI is doing much better at not getting hit than the average company with the same volume of goods.”
    “That doesn’t make Mandel Inc. or Sizemore Security Consulting look very good, does it?”
    For a moment, Sam didn’t answer. “No, it doesn’t. But it could just be a factoid. It’s too soon to tell.”
    “What’s a factoid?”
    “A fact that doesn’t mean anything in the larger scheme. If you get enough of them and they all point in the same direction, then you take a closer look.”
    “I see.” Kate picked up a pencil and made a little circle on the Mandel Inc. and the Sizemore Security Consulting sticky notes. Then she put circles on each employee’s note.
    “What are you doing?” Sam asked.
    “Entering factoids.”
    “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
    “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
    Gently, he tangled his fingers in her hair. “You doing okay, darling?”
    “No. How about you?”
    “Want to take a time-out?”
    “Right after we finish with the civilians.”
    “They have a lot of cross-references and factoids,” he warned her.
    “That’s okay. I have a lot of pencils.”
    He looked at his watch. “Go sharpen them while I call in some names to fingerprinting.”
    “What names? Why?”
    “My personal six most-likely suspects. I want the lab to compare any prints on file with whatever they got off the rental car.”
    “Isn’t it a little late—and on Saturday night?” she asked.
    “Not a problem with Kennedy’s pull.”
    “I didn’t know he was behind you.”
    “Neither does he.”
    “He’ll be pissed.”
    Sam smiled grimly. “How will I tell the difference?”

Chapter 58
    Glendale
    Sunday
    2:15 A.M .
    If the neighborhood had been quiet a few hours ago, now it was dead. A few night-lights glowed in a house here and there, and the dusty old streetlights pushed small gold halos into the darkness. After that, it was completely dark. Even the fingernail moon had already set.
    Headlights off, Kirby parked in the driveway of a rental house in back of the target’s address and waited, wishing he had brought his beer with him. But that would have been stupid. He shouldn’t even have had the beers he’d drunk while waiting for the bar to close, but there hadn’t been any choice. Bartenders and barmaids notice the patrons that don’t drink. He didn’t want to be remembered.
    After five minutes of watching the street, Kirby felt confident that if anybody had noticed him, they didn’t care. No house lights came on. No doors opened to the street.
    Quietly, he opened the car door. Nothing flashed on because he’d already pulled the fuse controlling the interior lights. No dog barked at hearing his footsteps, because his soles were soft and he was walking lightly. He soon reached the garage, went over the low fence down a narrow side yard, and along the backyard. Every step of theway, chest-high shrubs with thin leaves and long thorns plucked at his dark clothes. Beneath the black ski mask, he was sweating with a combination of beer and adrenaline.
    The lot next door to the target house had more of the thorny shrubs scattered across the bare land. Instead of avoiding them, he used their thin cover to blur the outline of his silhouette against the sandy dirt. It wasn’t a conscious decision but past training that kept him moving at a slow and steady pace, gliding from shrub to shrub until he reached the target.
    The first thing he noticed was the wires on all windows and doors.
    The second thing was the alarms.
    He smiled.
    People slept deeply when they were guarded by wires and alarms. It made his job easier, once he was inside. And he would get inside. Security depended on electricity, which could be outsmarted by crossing the right wires. Same for alarms.
    The really sweet thing about residential alarm systems was that they had a thirty-second grace period built in. In thirty seconds he could short-circuit the two wires on a window, taking it out of the alarm loop. Then he could