Caffrey Aloha

Chapter 10

Sunday afternoon. January 2, 2005.

Neal followed Mozzie into the condo where Adrian Tulane was staying. The client had arranged the use of the space, which was rented out to a large Chinese conglomerate. The client was probably an executive with the firm, but they still hadn't been able to learn his name.

They sat on a massive purple sectional sofa, and Tulane asked, "Change your mind about taking the job, Mozzie?"

Mozz shook his head gravely. "No. I'm here to warn you. Your client made a misstep, and the FBI knows the pearls are being targeted. The museum is upgrading their security as we speak."

"So much for the plans I made when I scoped out the place last week. Thanks for the warning. I'll tell the client to wait for things to cool down and try again later."

"You need to rethink working for this client," Neal said. "He's keeping his identity a secret from the authorities by killing his accomplices."

Tulane didn't believe him at first, but Mozzie laid out the details he'd discovered. This client made all the travel arrangements. On completion of the job, if he had any worries about being connected to the crime, he would decide to stay on the island while his pilot flew his accomplice home. The pilot would ditch the plane over the ocean and parachute to safety. The plane and accomplice were never seen again. Mozzie named two well-known thieves and an assassin who had disappeared on flights from Honolulu that never made it to their final destination.

"The pilot's a wiry little fella," Tulane objected. "He couldn't overpower me. I'd take the parachute from him if he tried to jump. And Jeffers," he said, naming one of the thieves, "knows how to fly. Even if the pilot jumped ship, he'd've made it to land safely and called for help."

"They'll offer you a drink on the plane," Mozzie said. "In fact, to be safe, they'll offer you something on the drive to the airport. By the time the pilot jumps, you'll be asleep or at least too drugged to put up a fight."

"You know this for a fact?" Tulane asked. "Or is this one of your conspiracy theories?"

"We did the research," said Neal. "Found the planes and pilots he's been using, looked up the flight plans and saw the pattern. The planes took off but there's no record of them landing, and each time it followed a crime where the person most likely to have committed the crime has never been seen since. Rumors say they each made a big score and retired. But what are the odds of all of them making enough that they decide to give up the life, and then none of them being spotted again?"

"What's the deal with your friend here?" Tulane asked Mozzie, gesturing toward Neal. "Poster boy for New Year's Eve parties? His face has been plastered on the television the last few days, dancing on the beach and singing in a concert. A little high-profile for your style."

Neal resisted the impulse to glance at the watch he was wearing. They had borrowed it from the local FBI, and it was broadcasting the conversation to Peter, who was listening as he sat in a booth at a restaurant across the street. Peter wasn't going to be happy about this.

The plan Peter had approved was for Neal to play the role of the grieving son of one of the criminals killed by the client. Neal was supposed to be an up-and-coming thief following in his mother's footsteps and out for revenge. He was going to ask for the client's name in order to steal from him. But Tulane was right. A professional thief should try to blend into the shadows.

Time for Plan B: the plan he'd made up just now.

"I'm a con artist," said Neal. "This client of yours may be a scumbag, but he's an obscenely rich scumbag. From everything I've heard, he may have as much money as Vincent Adler, and he's almost as hard to find. I'm looking for my next target, and I think he's it. I specialize in long cons. The one I'm working now may take a year to wrap up, and it took a year to plan. If I'm going to take on your client next, I know I need a lot of time to do my homework and make connections. I'm in the perfect position to start doing that. All I'm lacking is his name. Tell me who he is and how to find him." He smiled greedily. "C'mon. The guy was planning to kill you. You don't owe him any loyalty."