Rogue Angel 51: The Pretender's Gambit by Alex Archer Read Free Book Online

Maurice, Yegor and me had going. We were making money, bro, and they wanted some of it. Uncle Maurice said that elephant was the biggest score he’d ever pulled down.”
    “Did he tell people about that?” Bart asked.
    Demyan shrugged. “Yeah, a few people. Some of those old guys, sure. He wanted them to know when he got a fat score. Liked to rub it in and tell them they should be doing their own business when he was drinking down at The Red Bear Bar.” He paused and rolled his shoulders. “Did you see how much he got for that elephant, bro?”
    “I did,” Bart replied.
    “So…how much?”
    “He didn’t tell you?”
    Demyan scowled. “Like I said, Uncle Maurice didn’t tell me and Yegor anything except go empty out this storage unit and bring the stuff here. Put this stuff on the website. Box these things up. Go to the post office with this. That pretty much covered it. He was supposed to be training us, but he didn’t.” He pursed his lips. Evidently the pleasant buzz he’d had earlier was fading. “Never once did he tell me and Yegor that we were doing a good job, you know? He coulda done that. Coulda showed a little appreciation. That wouldn’t have been so hard, bro.”
    Bart shook his head in ill-concealed disgust. “The man is dead. He put a roof over your heads and kept the two of you in enough cash to mostly keep you out of trouble. Have some respect.” He headed for the door and Annja fell in behind him.
    “Not all the weed we could smoke, bro,” Demyan said softly. “We coulda smoked a lot more weed.”
    Annja put a hand on Bart’s shoulder and kept him moving.
    Outside in the hall, Bart walked over to Officer Falcone, a young brunette with dark hair and eyes.
    “Something I can do for you, Detective?”
    “I can do something for you, Officer Falcone.” Bart hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “There are warrants out on those idiots in that apartment.”
    “I didn’t know that. We didn’t background them. I was just told they were the dead man’s nephews and we were supposed to hold them for you.”
    “Well, I’m telling you now they’ve got warrants out for them. Grab your partner and take those two imbeciles downtown. There’s an FTA on the little one and traffic holds on the big one. That’ll give you guys a couple small collars and a reason to get in out of the cold tonight.”
    Falcone smiled. “Thank you, Detective.”
    Bart waved the thanks away. “Don’t mention it. Take your time booking those two clowns. I want to be able to find them if I need to for the next forty-eight hours.”
    * * *
    C ALAPEZ SPOONED THE last of the Greek yogurt from the plastic container while Pousao watched the building on the other side of the street. Finished with his meal, he glanced at his watch and discovered it was 4:14 a.m. They had been in the dead man’s apartment for over four hours. The morning coming, they would have to move soon. He could already hear neighbors moving around in the other apartments. Early morning activity, footsteps and snatches of hurried conversation, sounded out in the hallway.
    Pousao stood and shifted slightly, then pushed his chin toward the window. “Hey. That woman, Annja Creed, she’s leaving the building with one of the cops.”
    Calapez crossed the room and gestured for the binoculars the younger man held. When Calapez had them, he trained his view on to the street, picking up the archaeologist instantly. She stood out in the crowd. She and the detective pushed through the reporters outside the perimeter set up by the police officers.
    “Do they have the elephant?” Pousao asked.
    “I don’t know.” Feeling more tense now because he knew Sequeira would not accept losing the object, Calapez watched as Annja Creed and the detective entered a small diner.
    “They are not going far.” Pousao rotated his head on his shoulders and the effort produced cracks. “What do we do?”
    “What we’re doing now. We wait. We watch. Going back to Sequeira