Page 69

Plattville, Virginia

Two days later

Savich knocked on the door.

They walked down the long hallway, past its display of American antiques and paintings, to the big double doors. Sherlock didn’t knock. She opened the door quickly, and three of the four of them came fast into the room. Ruth Noble stuck her Glock under Musa’s chin before he could straighten from his chair beside the door. “That’s right, don’t move or I will have to shoot you.” Ollie Hamish disarmed him and stepped back.

Aboud’s hand went to his top desk drawer.

Savich said, “No, Mr. Aboud, don’t even think about your weapon.”

While she was zip-tying Musa’s wrists, Savich said, “Mr. Aboud, please press your palms to your desktop.”

Aboud shrugged. “Of course, I know the Said family. Why would I deny it? Mr. Said and I have done business for years. If Adara Said was involved, it has nothing to do with me. What reason would I have? It’s ridiculous. Is this about my Sikorsky again? You know it was stolen, I reported it.”

Savich said, “Mr. Aboud, come out from behind your desk and place your hands on top of your head.”

Savich said, “Ollie, check his desk, the top right-hand drawer.”

No answer. Ollie bagged the gun.

Aboud said, “May I put my arms down?”

Savich nodded.

Aboud said as he began rubbing his arms, “I understand now. As you know, my Sikorsky was very valuable. I think Ansir and his brother stole it and planned to sell it, after attacking Lady Elizabeth, for whoever it was who paid them. Ali Amin came up with that story to protect himself. You must have offered him immunity, an obvious ploy no jury would believe. If ever this nonsense came to a U.S. court, my lawyers would destroy him.”

Aboud stared at her, slowly shook his head.

“It was Admiral Lord Hawley who ordered your son’s fighter jet shot down by a British missile fired from a ship stationed in the Mediterranean. He’d strayed too close and was considered an immediate threat. This was your first son, Mr. Aboud, by your first wife.