But he grabbed it first. “That’s mine.”
“Mr. Sagan,” the lawyer said. “That was to be given to me.”
He was not in the mood to argue. “I’m going to assume that you have no idea what’s really going on here. Let’s just say that you don’t want to know. So how about you shut up and stay out of my way.”
He’d decided that whatever may have been in the grave was his only bargaining power, and he wasn’t about to give that away. He had to make sure Alle was okay. Never had he believed in a heaven, or an afterlife, or anything more than when you died, just like Abiram, you turned to mush, then dust. But on the off chance that his parents and Michele would be waiting on him after he finally did blow his brains out, he wanted to be able to say that he’d done the right thing.
He backed toward the door.
The lawyer advanced.
He asked, “I assume you know what’s in this FedEx box?”
She stopped. Apparently she did. And she also seemed not to want to have too much of a conversation in front of the medical examiner.
“Tell your client that I’ll be in touch about a trade. He’ll know what I mean.”
“How will you find him?”
“Through you. What firm are you with?”
She told him.
And he left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ALLE WATCHED THE VIDEO FEED. SHE SAT WITH BRIAN IN A house across the Austrian border in the Czech Republic. They’d driven here last night from Vienna. She was still unsure about any of this and had spent the day in her room, her mind simmering with anxiety. Now, watching the images from Florida, new worries lunged at her.
She recognized the place where her grandfather lay buried. The pictures they were receiving were being shot through a car windshield, from a distance, and elevated. The cemetery was located in Lake County, which had the distinction of having some of Florida’s highest terrain. There were actually hills there, along with over a thousand lakes. Brian’s man had chosen a hillock near the cemetery as his vantage point. She recalled it. A wooded mound of scrub oak, pines, and palms. She’d watched an hour ago while workers exhumed her grandfather, hauling the coffin into the burial house, the same wood-sided building where she’d kept vigil over him after he died. The camera offered a clear view of its front door.
“Why are you filming this?” she asked.
“To try and find out what the hell is in that coffin.”
“What are you going to do? Steal it?”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but if I can get it I will.”
She’d yet to see Zachariah and commented on that.
“He gets others to take all the risks,” Brian said. “It’s his way. But he’s out there. Watching.”
Her father and another woman had disappeared inside the building about twenty minutes ago.
“You don’t know anything about my family,” she had to say to Brian.
“I only know your father didn’t deserve that crap yesterday. He thinks you’re in danger. Every decision he’s about to make is based on that lie.”
“All we wanted him to do was sign papers. He would have never done that by me simply asking.”
“What’s the
“You speak like it’s a crime.”
“I assure you, this is not about signing some papers. Simon wanted you dead. He’s going to want your father dead, too. That’s why I have a man there.”
This was all so hard to believe.
“Doesn’t it bother you,” Brian asked, “that your father was about to kill himself last night?”
“Of course it does. What I did stopped him.”
Brian looked incredulous. “And that’s how you justify it? You had no idea what he was about to do. You just wanted to help Simon any way you could.”
She resented his tone and accusations.
Her father appeared on the screen, rushing outside, holding what appeared to be a blue-and-white box in his right hand and a packet in his left, which she recognized. The same one she’d placed in the coffin.
“You see that,” a voice said through the computer.
“Oh, yeah,” Brian said. “Get ready to move.”
———
