Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

and going through the parking lot all the time. It could have been anyone that stumbled acrossthe robbery. Besides, like I said, being spotted didn’t do me any favors. Or her.”
    Doug put his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes. He was getting too old to go four nights in a row on too little sleep to keep a college student alive during finals.
    “Okay.” Doug pinched the bridge of his nose, opened the belly drawer, and went looking for aspirin. When he found three, he looked up. “What were you and your CI doing at the hotel?”
    “Looking at the best of the private showings.”
    Doug popped the pills in his mouth and grimaced. “Why?”
    Sam stood and drew a paper cup of water from the cooler standing next to the door.
    “Drink this,” he said to Doug. “Watching you dry-swallow aspirin makes my throat hurt.”
    “Doing it is even worse. Thanks.”
    Though he’d rather have paced, Sam sat down again. “This is where her life goes on the line.”
    Doug hesitated, then nodded.
    “Remember that Florida courier case five months ago?” Sam asked. “The one that kicked off the whole crime strike force?”
    “The McCloud shipment. Courier took it and ran.”
    “That’s what somebody wants us to think.”
    Doug settled back in his office chair and fiddled with the paper cup. “What’s your version?”
    “It was staged. The courier—Lee Mandel—likely is somewhere in the swamp feeding crabs.”
    “Then who took package?”
    “Whoever killed him.” Sam made an impatient motion, cutting off Doug’s next question. “My CI didn’t believe the stage dressing. She started asking questions, pushing, forcing the FBI file to stay open. Then, just after the file got updated again a few months back, she gets a call on her answering machine telling her to stop pushing or die. The caller used a voice distorter. CI couldn’t even say for sure whether it was a man or woman.”
    Doug’s fingers stilled. “Just after the file was updated?”
    “Yes.”
    “You think it was someone inside the Bureau.”
    It wasn’t a question.
    Sam hesitated. “All I know for sure is that whoever made the call had access to Bureau files. He knew when something was updated.”
    “Could be a hacker.”
    “Could be Superman and his X-ray eyes,” Sam retorted. “Look, I didn’t want to believe it either. But potentially it explains a lot.”
    “Like?”
    “Like why we keep coming off looking like schmucks on this job. If someone inside is feeding information outside, we’re fucked.”
    “Okay, that’s one possibility.” Doug said it like there was a bad taste in his mouth. “Could be one of the gem traders or courier companies, couldn’t it?”
    “Not unless my CI is lying.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “She knew what Lee Mandel was carrying, so—”
    “She’s the one who stole it,” Doug said quickly. “Hell, even the FBI doesn’t know what was in the frigging package.”
    “She knew because she cut the gems Mandel was supposed to deliver to McCloud.”
    Doug opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought hard. “She’s a cutter?”
    “A damn good one. But everything I’ve learned in my years of investigating tells me that she didn’t do it.”
    “Then who did? Who else knew what was in the package?”
    “Her stepfather. He owns the courier service Mandel was working for at the time he was hit.”
    “Mandel Inc.?”
    “Yes.”
    “Run him.”
    “I did,” Sam said, resisting the urge to point out that he wasn’t some apple-cheeked rookie. “Mr. Mandel has my nomination forcitizen of the year. He wears his seat belt and his parking tickets are paid promptly. So are his taxes. He was audited once on a random basis. Government ended up owing him money.”
    “He needs a better tax accountant. What do his company books look like? You want a warrant?”
    “He’s cooperating,” Sam said. “So far our accountant hasn’t discovered anything but data-entry errors, and the majority of them favored the clients.”
    “So that’s why you had me sign a request for a forensic accountant and refused to tell me who or where or why.”
    “I was protecting my—”
    “You forget that my dick is in the wringer along with yours,” Doug snarled. “Keep talking and maybe I won’t chop yours off. Who else knew what was in the shipment?”
    “Mandel did, so his lover might have.”
    “Is that your cutter?”
    “No. Mandel was gay.”
    Doug blinked. “Hand me Mandel’s file. It’s on the floor next to