Ghost's Treasure (4 page)

Jostling his mouse, Ryan clicked into a program, then entered the information from the paper. What popped up took his breath away. He glanced at the paper, then back to the computer screen once more. "The name and number are legit." His voice trailed off as he stared disbelieving at the results of his search.

"So he's a true FBI agent?"

He shook his head. "I didn't say that."

She stopped breathing. "Then what did you mean?"

"The name and badge number match an agent"—he met her gaze steadily—"an agent who died in the line of duty seven years ago."

Breath whooshed from her as she sagged in the chair. "Well, hell."

Ryan's blue eyes refused to release her. "Do you have any idea who this man was?"

She sat up straight once more and shook her head. "That's the information he gave me. However…" She dug through her purse and pulled out a couple of bags. Without preamble, she passed them over. "Here's his business card. I didn't touch it except with my tweezers to pick it up and put in the bag. The other is a picture of the guy from the security camera." Once more she dug through her purse. "Here's pictures of the items I found in the box from the estate sale."

His eyebrows shot up. "Pretty keen. Watch a lot of cop shows?" Taking the items, he gave each a quick once-over.

She grinned slowly and shrugged. "He made my skin crawl." Reaching in her bag, she pulled out her cell phone. "I also had two other phone calls. From different people. Needless to say, I didn't answer the phone after I made the mistake of picking up the first time." Josie punched buttons and opened her voice mail, then handed the phone over.

Ryan listened carefully and jotted down names and numbers. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take this down the hall to the lab. Including the phone. We may be able to make copies of the voices. I'll be right back." He stood and strode quickly from the room.

* * * *

Josie tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair and waited impatiently. Coming to the FBI had been a good idea. However, the more concerned the agent became, the more her already taut nerves began to jitter. Something told her she'd really stepped into it this time.

"Miss Summers?"

Glancing up, she found Ryan returning along with an older, silver-haired gentleman. "Yes?"

"I'm agent Matthews, regional supervisor." He held out his hand.

She accepted his hand and shook firmly. "Hello."

He sat down beside her as Ryan returned to his original seat. "Here's your phone back. We were able to make a duplicate of the recordings. I wouldn't erase the messages, though, just in case."

"Okay." She took the device from Ryan and turned her attention to the older man.

"Looks like you're in a pickle, little lady."

She sighed. "I'm starting to get that feeling."

"Here's what we know. Thanks to your quick thinking, we know the identity of your fake FBI agent visitor. Ronald Track. He's a master art thief, wanted in seven countries for his sticky fingers. Normally, he steals from museums or high-end collectors and sells his items on the black market, or he's contracted by a private collector who wants a particularly valuable piece."

"Oh." Her eyebrows shot up. "So, he's a professional thief?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered. "And dangerous too. He's been known to never take no for an answer, even if he has to put someone six feet under along the way."

She swallowed loudly. "I take it the jewels are real then?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. Ever hear of the Polish Royalty Casket?"

"No."

"The Polish royal family kept a box full of jewels and other objects from members of their family line. Valuable things. Priceless things." He ran a hand through his short gray hair. "During World War II, the Nazis discovered the hidden location of the casket and plundered it. Only, the military group responsible didn't carry their finds back to Hitler. Oh, no. They distributed all the items among themselves and carried them off. No sign any of them still existed since. Until you took pictures and emailed them to certain people. People who would do anything to get such a rare treasure in their hands."

For a split second, excitement washed over her at the significance of her find, then reality settled back in with his words. Priceless treasure possessed a dark side, and the prospect of vast amounts of money made people do desperate acts. Like murder.

"People like Ronald?"

Agent Matthews cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, he's not your only concern."

Blinking, she stared at the man and mentally braced herself for more bad news.

"The two phone calls. Both are very aggressive head hunter collectors who would hire thieves or career criminals to steal what they can't buy. They've been on our list for a while now, dating back to an unfortunate espionage and money laundering scheme several years back."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning I have no reservations believing the jewels you found are worth more than your life to these people."

She gulped. Sucking in a deep breath, she focused on the essentials.
Breathe. Swallow. Don't fall apart now.

"We've been after these guys for years. Honestly, we're excited to have a healthy lead and the possibility of finally tracking them down once and for all."

"With me as bait?" She couldn't blame them for choosing the most logical way to reel in the bad guys, but the knowledge made her gut churn all the more.

Ryan sat forward. "We're willing to place you in a safe house with a very capable bodyguard. That should give us time to trail these guys, hopefully catch them, while you're safe and sound on an impromptu vacation."

"Vacation? With determined men right on my heels, more than prepared to kill me for the items I happened upon in an estate sale?" She shuddered and pulled herself together with effort.

"Sorry. Bad terminology. We don't like using people for bait if we can avoid it. However, sometimes if things don't materialize, we're forced to such extremes. But I can assure you, you'll be in the best of hands." Ryan nodded and glanced at the other agent.

"That's true. We have a reputation to uphold on keeping witnesses, and those important to the agency, alive."

"That's good to know." She bit back the sarcasm just in time.

"Now if you'll just tell us where you hid the jewels…" The older man met her gaze.

"Oh, I don't think so." She shook her head and frowned. "I'm not that stupid, and I choose to live, thank you very much."

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a tiny smile on Ryan's face. He obviously approved of her decision and found her refusal somewhat humorous. On the other hand, Mr Matthews scowled with supreme irritation.

"Listen, Miss Summers. We're prepared to provide protection for you. But you have to be willing to give something in return."

Lifting her chin, she met his frown with a look of steely determination. "I am. When and if these criminals are locked up, I'll hand over the jewels to be returned back to the rightful owners, the Polish royal family or whoever still exists in their stead." Standing, she dropped her phone back in her purse and stepped toward the door.

"But those men won't stop coming until they know you no longer have the goods."

"Wrong. Those weasels won't stop coming until they have the jewels in their hands. They're not about to rely on any rumor from the FBI that the items are safe with the Feds. The chances of them believing such a thing ranks right up there with pigs sprouting wings and flying. Instead, they will hunt me down like a fox no matter what until I hand over the goods or prove that I really did give them up to you. My staying alive depends upon my ability to keep the location secret. From everyone."

"Budget cuts don't allow for a long list of waiting bodyguards, Miss Summers. It's not like I can call downstairs and have my pick of those both qualified and available to protect you."

She gasped. "You can put people in the Witness Protection Program, change every iota of their life, but you can't find one single man to cover me while you blatantly use me as bait?" Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Matthews. "That's bullshit. I guess you don't want either the treasure or the criminals very badly." Grabbing up her purse, she marched toward the door. "I'll contact the Polish government. I'm sure they'll be interested in protecting my hide long enough to capture some bad guys in order to get their long lost treasure back for free."

"Stop." With a muttered curse, Matthews stood and huffed. "Set it up, Blake." With one more baleful glare, he strode from the room.

"Well played," Ryan said quietly.

"Thanks." She plopped back down, trying to quiet her rapidly beating heart.

"You've got spunk and smarts, I'll give you that." With a grin, he shuffled papers. "If you give me a minute, I'll make a phone call and see if I can collect your new best friend."

Feeling a bit more relaxed with the easier-going and less demanding blond-haired man, Josie leaned back in her chair. "As long as he's housebroken and doesn't drool all over the floor, I'm good."

With a chuckle, Ryan palmed his personal cell phone and punched in numbers.

Chapter 7

The ringing phone startled Ghost from his mindless drive toward home. After a tough Wind Warriors mission, he eagerly looked forward to several days at home to do nothing more than rest, relax, and live in quiet tranquility. Not that he actually enjoyed those highly rated goals, but at least getting away held a few benefits.

Slowing his truck, he pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store. Recognizing the caller ID number, he quickly answered. "Yeah?"

"How's it going?" Ryan asked cheerfully.

"It's going." He hated talking on the phone. Heck, he didn't care to say much in the presence of others either. The less they knew the better. Besides, he didn't have the patience for social correctness and manners.

"I've got a job for you."

"I just finished one. Don't need another," he grumbled. He'd met Ryan a while back when he followed his sister, Lark, on a Wind Warriors mission. Later, they'd teamed up and headed to Paris to permanently eradicate the man behind assassination attempts on a few of the Wind Warriors group.

In truth, Ryan wasn't bad, for a government man.

"This is really important, Ghost." Ryan's tone dropped and turned deadly serious.

With a long sigh, he kicked himself, then gave in to his curiosity. "What is it?"

"I don't want to talk over the phone. Can we meet in person?"

"I'm not even home yet, Blake."

"Name the place. We'll meet you there."

"We?" His gut clenched.

"Yes, we." Ryan paused a beat. "I wouldn't ask this of you unless the situation was dire."

Those words piqued his interest and tipped the scales. "No promises, but I'll meet you. North end of the Stanford Street Mall parking lot, next to the food court sign. Twenty minutes."

"You got it." The call clicked off.

Tossing his phone into the passenger seat, Ghost rested his hands on the steering wheel. So much for downtime.

Why do I have a feeling this mission is going to be nothing but trouble?

Chapter 8

Sitting in his truck, Ghost watched as a black pickup entered the large mall parking lot and headed in his direction. Fairly certain of the driver, he slipped out and shut the door behind him, leaning against his vehicle in the warm spring sunshine.

The other truck parked next to him. Ryan jumped out and flipped his door closed behind him. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Yeah."

The passenger side opened and closed, pulling Ghost's attention away from the other man. Almost casually, a lithe blonde walked around the corner, in front of the grille, and came to stand next to Ryan while facing Ghost. Sunglasses covered her eyes, but he knew she raked him from head to toe, appraising him just as he did the same to her. Pretty and petite, he'd give her credit for strength and conditioning from what he could tell by her shapely slacks and matching blouse. Blonde locks blew in the light breeze, drawing attention to the hint of strawberry color mixed in with the golden hues.

Curious, he waited for Ryan to explain the situation. He didn't have to wait long.

"Ghost, this is Josie. Josie, Ghost."

She held out a hand. Ghost automatically followed suit, shaking her hand and noting the strength and firmness she used instead of the limp fish grip many woman chose instead. He much preferred the show of confidence and strength any day.

"Ghost, huh?"

He didn't answer. This wasn't a social visit, and he didn't care to share secrets with someone he just met. Hell, he didn't share with anyone. Safer that way and helped his internal raging inferno remain under precise control. He could deal if he shoved things into the past. Unfortunately, missions under moonless nights like two days ago tended to weaken his resolve, allowing the old memories and hurts to surge to the forefront. He had to battle all the harder to shove them back in the closet of his mind and lock the door. Lately though, more and more slipped through the cracks, showing small reminders of what he'd lost, reopening Pandora's box each time.

"The reason I called you is we need a bodyguard. For her." Ryan gestured toward Josie.

Ghost looked at the woman once more. "Put her in the Witness Protection Program."

Ryan shook his head. "She's not a witness. To make a long story short, she purchased a box of goodies at an estate sale, wound up with some priceless pieces of treasure thought to be lost in World War II. Unfortunately, she sent some emails inquiring about the legitimacy of the artifacts and has now become a person of interest for a few big-time art thieves and black market collectors."

He frowned at Ryan. "So collect the goods, set her up in a safe house, and wait for the bad guys to decide she's no longer of interest."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a clueless blonde dumb enough to hand over the jewels until those after me have been captured and I'm certain no more slime balls will show up at my work with threats to my person if I don't turn over my finds." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared in his direction.