Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

other. He’d taken people out of theater lines with no one the wiser.
    The glass door to McDonald’s opened and the courier came out. Middle-aged, dyed brown hair, lightweight slacks and T-shirt for the hundred-degree heat. Her purse was as unremarkable as she was. She already had the key to the car in her hand. She punched the button that opened the driver-side lock and opened the door.
    White went out of the van like a hundred-and-seventy-pound cat. His lead-filled sap hit the base of her skull with a meaty sound. As she slumped forward, he grabbed the key from her hand and used her momentum to dump her over the car’s center console and into the passenger foot well. He ripped off the ski mask and threw it on the seat. Then he turned and closed his van’s side door.
    Five seconds after the courier had unlocked the door to her car, White slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and started the car. He drove to an empty stretch where desert and town overlappedright next to a motel that was barely clinging to survival. Most of the action here was at night, when girls took their customers for a fifteen-minute spin. In the daytime, the place was a ghost motel.
    He drove around to the back, parked next to the big trash bin, and dropped his pants. Gritting his teeth, he ripped off the tape holding a steel bar to his right calf.
    After a quick look around to assure himself that nobody was watching, he went to the trunk, wedged the bar beneath the rim, and gave a brutal yank. The trunk of the little car popped open. He saw a suitcase and a package with brown paper wrapping closed by various security seals. He stuffed the package under his shirt and closed the trunk. Because it had been forced, the lid didn’t shut completely, but it was close enough to look good from across the lot.
    Again he glanced around without seeming to. Still alone. He started to walk back to his van, then remembered the rest of his instructions.
    Rough up the courier.
    He pulled on black leather gloves with lead inserts in the back of the fingers and opened the passenger door of the white car.

Chapter 21
    Glendale
    Wednesday evening
    Why hasn’t he called? Did he tell his boss about me and now he doesn’t want to face me?
    Kate paced her workshop, wondering if by trusting Special Agent Sam Groves she’d effectively signed her own death warrant.
    Don’t be silly. No one has called to threaten me.
    Maybe that’s because they won’t threaten this time. They’ll just kill me and be done with it.
    Automatically, she glanced at the bolts securing the doors to her home workshop. Still locked. Status lights on the security system were still green. She wished it made her feel better, but it didn’t. She was smart enough to know that all the locks and alarms in the world wouldn’t keep out someone who was really determined.
    The knock on the front door made Kate jump. Heart racing, she went to the nearest intercom, flipped the switch, and said curtly, “Yes?”
    “Sam Groves.”
    “Are you alone?”
    “I keep my promises, Ms. Chandler.”
    “I’ll be right there.”
    What she didn’t say was that she’d be praying every step of the way.
    Sam waited with barely leashed impatience while Kate went through the ritual of peering through the spy hole and undoing the heavy-duty locks and bolts. An afternoon spent memorizing a career-breaking file and making calls to agents who blew him off was just the thing to put a fine edge on his temper.
    When the door finally opened, Sam stepped through fast, making sure she didn’t change her mind about talking to him.
    “Did those locks come before or after Lee died?” he asked bluntly.
    “Before,” she said, shooting the bolt.
    “Why? Do you get a lot of death threats in your business?”
    “No, just hijackers. Some of the rough I cut is quite valuable even before it’s worked.”
    “Like the Seven Sins?” he asked.
    “Yes. They were far and away the best quality rough I’ve done.” She walked three steps and armed the security system again.
    Sam remembered what the dealer had said about the big synthetic sapphire. “So the rough had great color, clarity, and rarity?”
    “All three to the max.” Kate pushed a wave of black hair away from her face as she turned toward Sam. “It was the most beautiful rough I’ve ever worked. Even better, it was one hundred percent natural.”
    “As opposed to synthetic?”
    “You really want to know?”
    “That’s why I asked.”
    She sighed.