Counterfeit Conspiracies (29 page)

"Has for years. He's been waiting for his wife to bring it up but was afraid of saying anything until she spoke first. Whenever her bank account ran low he knew she'd had to make another payment, and he would find some excuse to give her more. But he'd recognized the signs lately that things were getting out of hand, so he hired a private detective to learn the man's schedule. Tonight seemed the best opportunity to make a move, especially since we're leaving in just a few hours."

I nodded. "That was our thinking, too. Kat's and mine. The Gleeson's daughter and I were college friends as well."

I pulled the book from my neckline. "But I didn't exactly leave empty-handed. Found this in his study when trying to discover where the missing portrait was. I think it may be more blackmail victims. We were concerned that taking the portrait would point too much toward Mrs. Gleeson, so I'm hoping this information defrays the risk."

Jack turned on the dome light and made a grab for the book.

"Hey, that's mine."

"No, this is evidence—" He whistled.

"What?"

Jack held up a hand to silence me, then turned a couple more pages. I tried to snatch the book back, but he jumped across the seat and my fingernails only scratched the cover.

"You're going to tell me what that is, Hawkes."

"A minute, please."

Finally, he stopped shifting pages and looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. "A detailed report on human trafficking activity coming through Florida, then going out across the U.S. He's documented everything, who his clients are, what they've paid, which countries the women came from. Everything."

"Wow." This was nothing like I'd expected when I took the journal. "So does it go to the FBI or Interpol?"

"Probably both. You drive. I'll send someone to pick up my car later." Jack pulled out his cell.

I should have called Kat to give her the high sign, but I needed to process a lot of this first. To figure out how to tell her the blackmailer had more to worry about than the loss of his moneymaking portrait, and do so without giving away state secrets. I also had to find a sensitive way to reveal her father knew but had kept the knowledge secret from her mother. There could be many reasons for that, both sincere—and creepy.

Kat and I were scheduled to meet in the airport short-term parking in a few hours. The plan was to hand over the portrait, letting it go practically unnoticed from my car trunk to hers before we split up—me for my southbound flight and Kat to turn the painting over to her mother. "I'd like to give the portrait to Kat instead of the senator's aide," I said when Jack hung up from his hushed-voice call to Interpol. "I'll tell her that her dad knows, but I think this needs to be a family conversation instead of one originating with an employee."

"Agreed. Is she meeting you at the airport?"

"Yes."

"We'll have a greeting party for the journal once we get to Miami. The suits are definitely interested."

I smiled into oncoming headlights and merged onto the freeway. "Our low-tech blackmailer has just become an even lower lowlife."

"And you, my love, have gained the prize that will give hundreds of innocent women their lives back."

"One nasty bad guy down, one art criminal mastermind still to go."

 

 

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