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Hez arched an eyebrow. “And there may be a security leak somewhere on my side of the fence.”
She shrugged. “The fewer people who know, the better.”
“I get it. I would’ve done the same thing. Are you planning another roadblock? Don’t tell me if you’d rather not.”
“I trust you personally. Just don’t tell anyone else.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Okay.” She got up, shut the door, and returned to her seat. “The plan is no roadblock this time. We managed to get a tiny GPS tracker to Hernando before he dropped off the looted artifact. He hid it in the piece, so we’ve been tracking the smugglers’ route. We know every place they stopped, and we have an ID on every vehicle they’ve used. Once the artifact reaches its destination, we and our partners can wrapup the whole operation in simultaneous raids across the U.S. and Mexico.”
“That’s terrific! I’m sure Drake will be thrilled.”
She smiled and pointed at the brass paperweight. “I polished that just in case we have press in the office in the next day or two.”
He chuckled—and then stopped when he did the mental math. “Next day or two. So the raids would happen as soon as the smugglers hand the artifact to Savannah?”
Hope pressed her lips together and nodded. “That’s the plan. We want to arrest her contact in the restaurant where they’re meeting. And once that happens, the other raids have to happen immediately, of course.”
Hez’s heart rate spiked. “Wait, so you’re saying she’ll be in the middle of a police raid?”
“Our New York colleagues will brief her before she goes in and will do everything they can to keep her safe. They’ll also give her the option to back out.”
“That’s unacceptable! They can arrest the smuggler on the street after they leave the restaurant.”
Hope grimaced. “I don’t like it either, but the New York team was adamant. They’re worried about bystander casualties and the target escaping if they do it on the street. They insist that it’s much safer for everyone if they do a preplanned operation in the restaurant.”
“It’s not safer for Savannah.”
She sighed. “No, it’s not. But she’ll have a choice and people walking by on the street won’t.”
Hez knew what she’d choose, of course. She’d march straightinto the lion’s den without hesitation. He offered up the first of a steady stream of silent prayers. He loved Savannah’s courage—except right now.
***
The hustle and bustle of New York City always surprised Savannah. Though she’d been here a handful of times, she always forgot how many people it held. The streets and sidewalks teemed with a kaleidoscope of humanity, all seemingly hurrying in different directions. But it wasn’t the chaos of the city that caused her heart to race as she sat in the back of the taxi and tensed as the driver navigated the insane traffic—it was knowing how much depended on her performance today. If the smuggler spotted the wire tucked into her silk blouse or any of the police watching her every move, all bets were off and she would have failed.
This could all spool out perfectly, or she could end up shot and dying on the floor. She wasn’t afraid of heaven, but Ella’s death had nearly destroyed Hez, and losing Savannah would finish the job.
Her thoughts ran through who might walk in that door. She hoped to recognize the smuggler, but she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew doing this to TGU.
She watched the map on her phone, then leaned forward when the restaurant was still a few blocks away. “I’d like to be dropped here.” If the smuggler was already there and watching, she wanted to be able to do the same. She handed over cash, then scrambled out into a cold, blustery February wind that sent icy fingers down her neck.
She zipped up her inadequate coat and hurried down Pine Street. The scents of car exhaust, grilling meat, and hot asphalt from a street repair assaulted her nose. The sounds of car horns, jackhammers, and dozens of people talking at once crowded into her ears. Her steps slowed as she turned onto Pearl and neared the restaurant. She looked around, scanning for anyone familiar.
A man, collar up against the wind, sheltered in the doorway of a storefront opposite the restaurant. She glanced at him and froze. Wasn’t that Graham Warner, Nora’s new romantic interest? Could he be the one meeting her? She ducked out of sight into a deli with her heart pounding. Though she hadn’t seen any police officers, they had to be here somewhere.
She paused by the door and whispered into the hidden wire, “I saw someone I recognized—Graham Warner, the university bookstore manager. He’s six-two with blond hair. Khaki slacks, white shirt, and navy blazer. He seems to be scouting out people like I am.”
“We see him,” a voice said from the tiny microphone hidden in her hair near her ear.
Once her panic dissipated, she ducked back out into the wind and hurried down the sidewalk without looking at Graham again. Would he abort the meeting once he recognized her? Probably, but she needed to get to the restaurant.
She entered Mad Dog & Beans ten minutes ahead of the meeting time and glanced around as she waited to be seated. It was nearly two o’clock and the place wasn’t busy. She mentioned the reservation for Priest and asked for a back table. The hostess beckoned for her to follow, and Savannah wound her way through the seated patrons to a table in the corner. She’dbeen too nervous to eat breakfast, and the aromas of Mexican spices and cheese made her stomach rumble.
She shrugged out of her coat and draped it on the back of her chair, then ordered coffee along with chips and salsa and settled down to wait. With her back to the wall, she watched the entrance to the restaurant. Did Nora’s association with Graham implicate her in the scheme too?
Savannah battled a wave of nausea. Her best friend couldn’t be working against her—she wouldn’t believe it without proof. She tried to formulate a prayer for strength and wisdom, but all she could come up with was a single word:Help!