The Gray Ghost Read online

  “Insurance?” Remi said.

  “Not saying that’s what it was,” he replied. “Just what I heard.”

  While Remi and the guard talked, Sam quickly looked around, taking everything in. If nothing else, it confirmed in his mind that this was not an operation that an old man with memory problems could handle on his own. Three men following him, however . . . “You seem to have a good grasp on everything around here. If it was an inside job, how do you think they set it up?”

  “Couldn’t say for sure. Interesting thing is, we had a couple of alarms go off more than once the nights leading up to the theft, including last night. If they stole the car that quick, why not take it last night when no one was here?”

  “Convenient,” Sam said. “You think they were setting things up?”

  “Figured that at first, but what went off was a pressure alarm beneath the car. The car wasn’t moved.”

  “Maybe figuring out how to move it?”

  “Possibly. The first night that alarm went off, they came in through the north door, on the other side of the building, then back out the same way. Whatever those blokes were doing around that car, it had nothing to do with timing the theft from here.”

  “Maybe because they already knew how long it’d take?”

  “About as long as it took to bring it in. Roll these walls back, roll the car out, open the bay door. Not a lot to think about there.”

  His cell beeped and he pulled it out, reading a text message. “Sorry, but I’ve got to cut the tour short. Duty calls.” He walked them back to the side door, opening it for them. “I’m sorry about your cousin’s uncle. I’ll keep an eye out. Still, I’m going to have to ask you to head up front. The back here is closed to the public.”

  “We appreciate your help,” Sam said, leading Remi that way. The moment the guard disappeared inside, he and Remi made a beeline for the back.

  11

  As they left the convention center, Sam said, “It’s highly possible that Albert was kidnapped, because he went back to the car as it was being stolen.”

  “Possibly,” Remi said. “Or maybe he saw it and tried to follow.”

  “If we can figure out how they got it from the premises without being seen, maybe we can find him. If we’re lucky, they took him with the car, let him out somewhere nearby.”

  Sam stepped away from the building for a better view of the surrounding area. The fire trucks were long gone, and the crowd milling near the building had thinned considerably. He and Remi walked toward the far side of the arena, where a truck was backing into one of the loading docks, the sign on the side reading Charles F. Goodland Trucking. A moment later, they saw the same security guard coming out the door, holding a clipboard, his attention on the driver, not them. The service road that circled the convention center widened near the loading dock, allowing the trucks to back in and out. A high razor-wire-topped fence separated the property from the outside neighborhood. There were also four similarly topped gates leading to streets in the neighborhood, the chain links woven with slats to block the view. If he had to guess, they were strictly for emergency access and kept locked at all times. He and Remi walked to the closest gate and he peered through its slats, seeing rows of garbage cans lined up against it. On the other side, a thick rusty chain with a padlock hanging from it secured the gate. Although both lock and chain looked intact, the space was too narrow for them to reach through and make sure it hadn’t been tampered with.

  “If they got out,” Sam said, “it was through one of these gates.”

  They turned back, walking toward the convention center’s entrance, still crowded with people waiting to get into the car show. When they reached the entrance, Remi nodded toward the road on the left. “I know we discounted this road earlier because the fire trucks were blocking it, but Albert could’ve walked in that direction on his own.”

  “Good idea.” Judging from the direction of the rooftops, the road appeared to go in the general direction of the convention center’s service area. “Maybe we’ll figure out which gate that truck used and which direction it took off in.”

  They followed the stretch of road, the buildings on either side mostly industrial, the doors shuttered, and no cars anywhere. From the looks of it, this area closed up tight on the weekends, and for a while the only thing they heard was their own footsteps. After several minutes, though, they picked up on an odd echo, and Sam unzipped his jacket for easy access to his gun.

  Remi looked back, seeing nothing but the empty street. “Sounds like we have company.”

  “Since we turned the corner.”

  She linked her arm through Sam’s, glancing behind her once more, before casually leaning her head on his shoulder. “Lovely.”

  “Whoever it is, they’re not worried about anyone hearing them.”

  “Good news or bad?” she asked, as they walked faster.

  “Considering that they seem to have picked up the pace? I expect we’ll soon find out.”

  The road forked in front of them.

  Sam scanned the street on both sides, searching for a position of defense. A catwalk between two buildings on their left caught his eye, and he took Remi’s hand, leading her that direction.

  As he and Remi neared the alley, he looked back, seeing one of the men from the train following. They emerged into the alley behind the buildings. On their left was the high razor-topped gate leading to the back of the convention center, the rusty chain cut, merely hanging there, but the fence appearing secured. On their right, two more men from the train walked quickly toward them. The good news: they now knew how that truck got off the grounds without being seen. The bad news: they were trapped.

  12

  They’d been set up. Herded down the catwalk into a trap.

  Sam, gun drawn, moved Remi toward the garbage cans lining the gate. The man from the catwalk jumped him, knocking Sam’s gun from his hand. Remi went after the weapon as the second man launched himself at Sam. Sam threw a right hook and staggered backward, hitting one of the garbage pails, then sinking to his knees.

  Remi had edged her way near Sam’s gun when the third man’s shadow suddenly appeared on the ground in front of her, the gun he held evident. “Don’t even try it,” he said.

  She lifted both hands, backing away.

  Sam looked over at her.

  “Fargo!” she warned, as the second man moved in. Too late, he kicked Sam in the side. Sam doubled over. He caught himself on a garbage can, struggling to stand upright.

  “Get him, boys,” the gunman said, his expression victorious.

  One of the men reached for him, but Sam dropped his shoulder, swinging the garbage can. It struck the first attacker, knocking him against the second. As Sam pushed them into the gunman, Remi knocked over a full can, rolled it across the cobblestones, garbage spilling out. One of the men stepped in the trash, lost his footing, bringing the other man down with him. Remi dove for Sam’s revolver and fired, nicking the gunman’s arm. He fell back against the garbage can, landing in a heap atop the other two men.

  “Police!” someone shouted, as the gate rattled behind them.

  Remi turned to see the security guard standing on the other side of the slatted fence and she ran over, pulled the chain, allowing him to open the gate. The three men scrambled to their feet, the garbage can rattling as they kicked it away, then raced down the alley.

  “Are you okay?” the guard asked.

  Remi nodded, as Sam moved next to her, she casually taking his gun and tucking it away so it wouldn’t be seen. Neither of them were allowed to carry in this country and having to explain why they were in possession of a firearm would tie them up for hours. “How’d you know we were in trouble?”

  “Heard the commotion from the loading dock. Followed by the gunshot . . .” He gave them both a good once-over. “No one hurt?”

  They shook their h
eads, Sam saying, “They missed us. Are the police on the way?”

  The guard nodded. “Do me a favor. Don’t mention I said I was the police. We’re not supposed to do that. Just thought it might speed things along.”

  “It worked,” Remi said, as Sam examined the chain-link gate closer.

  “Fire access,” the guard said. “Fire Department keeps a key.”

  Sam pulled the chain from the fence. “I guess we know why no one saw the truck.”

  The security guard took the chain and lock from Sam, examining the freshly cut link. “You’d think they might’ve noticed this.”

  “Not at first glance,” Sam said. He nodded at one of the still-standing garbage cans. “The car thieves cut the lock, moved the cans, replacing everything once the truck drove out.”

  “You think that’s why those men attacked you? Seems strange they’d be watching for that long.”

  “Who knows?” Sam said, though Remi was sure he had a fair idea. Considering that someone had been following Oliver and his uncle since Pebble Beach, and on the train here, it stood to reason they were waiting to see what Oliver might do once the car was stolen. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate you letting them know how the car was stolen. And we’d appreciate being left out of the matter. Any chance we can leave this in your hands?”

  The guard eyed the lock, the dented cans. “Seeing as how no one was hurt, don’t see why not.”

  The gunman certainly wasn’t going to report his injury. Sam left his business card with the guard. “In case there’re any problems. But if you can do this without our involvement, we’d appreciate it.”

  Sam took one last look down the alley, then he and Remi left through the open gate, back toward the convention center. “We better look for Oliver and make sure he’s okay. The last thing we need is to have him turn up missing, too.”

  13

  Arthur Oren paced his office, waiting for word that the car was safely on its way. Finally, the phone on his desk rang, and he picked it up when he saw Colton’s number on the caller ID. “You have news?”

  “Everything went as planned. The car is safely on its way back to Manchester.”

  “Good, good. How long until you start the next phase?”

  “Depends on the old man. We’re keeping him engaged until needed. There is one problem, though.”

  The elation Oren felt after hearing about the car suddenly faded at the tone of Colton’s voice. “What problem?”

  “The people from California that I told you about? Sam and Remi Fargo? They were at the car show with the Paytons when the theft went down. The two decided to investigate the area, and we thought to follow them, take them out right there. Unfortunately, the Fargo woman got ahold of her husband’s gun. Frank was lucky she’s not a good shot. Barely a graze. Still, the Fargos got away.”

  “You said they were a minor problem.”

  “More resourceful than we expected. Don’t worry, we’ll be better prepared next time.”

  “Let’s hope so. And the next phase? You’re sure there’ll be no issues?”

  “As I said, everything’s ready. Once we get the old man back to Manchester, we’ll implement it.”

  “What about the Fargos? If they were brash enough to investigate at the convention center, they might try to intervene in Manchester.”

  “We’ll make sure it’s not an issue.”

  Oren looked at the closed file folder containing his new family coat of arms. “Make sure it’s not. Next time, bring bigger guns. I’m counting on you.”

  14

  After several hours, with no word on Albert’s whereabouts, or the location of the Gray Ghost, Sam, Remi, and Oliver took the train back to Manchester, Oliver constantly checking his phone for missed calls or messages.

  “They’ll find him,” Remi said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  Oliver nodded. “I hope so. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to him. Allegra was against showing the car. I should have listened.”

  “Allegra?” Sam asked.

  “My younger sister. I should call her.” He stared at his phone a few seconds, as though composing himself. “I’m not even sure what to tell her.”

  Sam stood. “Remi and I will give you some privacy.”

  He smiled, gave a slight nod, then pressed her number, put the phone to his ear.

  Sam and Remi stood at the opposite end of the car while he talked. Unlike their train trip to London, this time they weren’t being followed. Not that he expected to see anyone now that the Ghost had been stolen.

  They waited until he finished speaking before returning.

  “Did you get in touch with her?” Remi asked, sitting across from him.

  He stared out the window, his expression vacant. “She blames me. Saying it’s my fault for losing him at the show.”

  Remi reached over, clasping her hand around his. “We’ll find him.”

  * * *

  —

  “I CAN’T IMAGINE how he must feel,” Remi said, as she and Sam readied for bed that night. “Having his uncle go missing on top of all this?”

  “At least the police are working on it.” Sam walked over to the window, looking out at the full moon. He pulled the curtains closed before getting into bed. “Hopefully, we’ll learn more in the morning.”

  Remi climbed in next to him, fluffing the down pillow behind her head. “I hope so.”

  She snuggled up next to him and he put his arm around her, smiling as he recalled the way she’d flung that trash onto the ground, tripping up those three thugs, then recovered his gun. The next thing he knew, he was waking to the sound of a rooster crowing, the sun up, Remi already in the shower.

  The scent of cooked bacon greeted them as they joined Oliver at the breakfast table in the Conservatory. “No word on my uncle, unfortunately. But Mrs. Beckett insists that we eat. I hope you slept well?” he asked, his smile looking strained. “Sometimes the farm noises can be distracting.”

  Remi smiled. “I loved hearing the sheep at sunrise.”

  “Probably not the rooster?” Oliver asked.

  “That,” Sam said, “we could’ve done without.”

  “Life in the country. You get used to it, eventually. I know I should have noticed, but do you take coffee or tea in the morning?”

  “Coffee,” they both said in unison.

  He handed Remi the silver pot, looked down at his plate of food, eyeing his scrambled eggs with distaste. “I was quite hoping to hear something by now.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be long,” Sam said, trying to put on a positive face. “The police in London are very competent. No doubt they’re making headway, even now.”

  The housekeeper appeared, waiting quietly in the door until Oliver looked her way. “Yes, Mrs. Beckett?”

  “Your sister rang. She’s at the police station. They’ve found your uncle.”

  He pushed his chair back, standing. “Why wouldn’t they have called here? He’s not hurt, is he? Did Allegra say anything?”

  “She didn’t, sir. Just that you should get there straightaway.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Beckett.” He looked at Sam and Remi. “Please, finish your breakfast.”

  “Actually,” Sam said, “we’ll be glad to drive you. After everything that’s happened, it might be a good idea to have extra sets of eyes and ears.”

  “Right you are.”

  The three met out front, where Sam’s rental car was waiting, the keys in the ignition. A gray-haired man walking with a pronounced limp approached from a door in the side of the garage, nodding at them as Oliver made the introduction. “Thank you, Jones.”

  “Sir.”

  Oliver gave an embarrassed smile as he watched the elder man walk off. “It’s all very formal around here. ‘Sir’ this, ‘M’lord’ that. Something I’m no longer used to. Uncle Al
bert hates it. Every one of these people here are like family to him and he can’t figure out why they insist on all the formalities.”

  Sam slipped in behind the wheel, Remi taking the backseat, leaving the front for Oliver. “He mentioned that at dinner our first night.”

  “In truth, we really can’t afford the handful of staff remaining, but my uncle couldn’t bear to let them go. They have nowhere else. Allegra’s son even lived here for a few years when she was going through her divorce. Nasty business, that.”

  “How many staff are left?” Remi asked from the backseat.

  “Three families here in the manor cottages, not including the four farmers.”

  The drive into Manchester took about twenty-five minutes, during which Sam was glad to see they hadn’t been followed. At the station, Oliver nodded toward a woman standing out front, her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. “My sister, Allegra,” he said.

  The moment she saw him, she walked over, her blue paisley dress fluttering in the wind. “Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I rang at least an hour ago.”

  “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Well, not soon enough. Uncle Albert’s been arrested.”

  “What? When? Whatever for?”

  “Sometime early this morning. They’re accusing him of insurance fraud for stealing the Gray Ghost.”

  “Preposterous. There is no insurance.”

  Allegra looked at Oliver as though he had lost his mind. “You didn’t have the car insured?”

  “Apparently, something happened, because their records show that we canceled the appointment for them to come out and look at the car. They never drew up a policy. The last time it was insured was before World War Two.”