The Double Eagle (37 page)

1:56
P.M.

“I
’ll almost miss you, Browne,” said Corbett as he raised his gun. He paused just for a second as he tightened his grip on the gun, his finger toying with the trigger’s tightness as he steeled himself for the shot.

With a final push, Tom swung down off the ledge and hit Corbett square in his back with the flat of his feet. Corbett slammed into the wall, his nose breaking against the marble, the gun spinning out of his hand and into the chamber, where it struck the statue’s pedestal before dropping to the floor. Tom landed heavily on his back, his hands breaking his fall.

Corbett turned around, snarling, fists clenched, poised to leap on Tom, but Jennifer stepped between them, gripping his gun.

“I will shoot you if I have to, sir.” She tilted her head to one side and raised the gun to his chest. “We both know I’ve done it before.”

Corbett’s eyes narrowed, the blood filtering through his fingers from his nose and his voice muffled as he cupped his face.

“You talk a big game, Browne, but you and I both know you’re bluffing. You can’t kill me, not after what you did to Greg. They’ll just lock you away this time.”

“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. But sometimes you got to take some shortcuts if you want to get the right result, isn’t that true?”

Something in her tone seemed to make Corbett hesitate.

“You won’t do it,” he snarled, eventually.

“Well, I will then,” said Tom, stepping forward and taking the gun from her grasp. “So I suggest you shut the hell up.”

Corbett began to laugh, his blood forming large bubbles from his nose that burst before re-forming again.

“What’s funny?”

“You two. What a team. We never planned on that.”

“We?” said Jennifer, taking a step forward. “What we?” Corbett didn’t answer, his laugh melting into a thick cough as some blood flowed back down his throat.

“Cassius,” said Tom, suddenly. “You’ve been working with Cassius, haven’t you?” Corbett pressed his back heavily against the wall as his cough subsided. Tom glanced at Jennifer. “That’s how Renwick knew that you were still alive. That’s how he knew the NYPD got a DNA match on me in New York.” He looked back at Corbett. “Because you told him.” Corbett remained silent.

“But I don’t understand,” said Jennifer, turning to Tom. “How could he have been involved with Renwick? I was working with him all along. I would have noticed.”

“Because he only let you see what he wanted,” Tom countered. “After Steiner got lucky at Schiphol Airport, Renwick tracked him and Ranieri down and had them both killed. The only problem was that Ranieri had swallowed the fifth coin and it ended back with you guys in Washington. So they arranged for both of us to meet for dinner at Renwick’s house. That gave them the opportunity to grab the coin back, get rid of Harry Renwick once and for all and incriminate me so that I’d be blamed for everything. Only they didn’t count on you doing such a good job of pinning down my movements all night.”

“You still don’t get who he is, do you? The genius of the man. What he’s capable of.” Corbett spat, his voice getting stronger now. “You’re both as dumb as the rest of them. Piper, Green, Young, they all fell for it.”

“What do you mean, fell for it? Fell for what?” Tom asked.

“Oh my God,” Jennifer gasped. “Of course. None of it ever happened, did it?”

Corbett began to clap slowly, his face twisted and hateful.

“What are you talking about?” asked Tom.

“You were right, Tom.” She turned and spewed words at him as her mouth strained to catch up with her brain. “You said it was all too convenient. That they’d wanted us to discover the faked suicide and the container. Well, that’s why. None of it ever happened. Corbett was the one who suggested going through the personnel files. He knew I’d find out sooner or later that Short had been murdered and focus the investigation there. He knew I’d find the container out the back of his house and the money in his bank account. The whole thing was a setup.”

“Short was so fucking bored.” Corbett dabbed his nose with his sleeve. “So desperate to be a cop again, to get a bit of the old buzz back. So when I flashed my badge and told him that we needed his help on a secret government project, he couldn’t do enough to help. Dumb fuck didn’t even want to get paid. Told me he was proud enough to be doing something for his country again. Can you believe that?”

“So there was no gold shipment?” Tom asked.

“Oh, the container turned up, all right. Short did the inventory himself so no one else would get a good look at it. Then he saw to it that it was put downstairs and that all the paperwork checked out and screwed around with the generator so I could sell my computer virus theory. But there was nobody actually inside the container. The whole thing was Renwick’s idea. To set up a robbery that never actually happened. So that if anyone came looking, they’d have something to investigate.” He locked eyes with Tom and smiled. “Some
one
to investigate.”

“But if no one was in the container, how did you get into the vault? How did you get the coins out?” Jennifer asked, frowning in confusion.

Tom nodded in sudden understanding.

“Because this wasn’t a setup. It was a cover-up. All this was to cover up an earlier crime, wasn’t it? Because you already had the coins. You just needed to make sure that someone else took the fall. Me.”

There was a pause as Jennifer looked from Tom to Corbett, back to Tom in confusion.

“Ten years,” said Corbett slowly, breaking the silence. “Ten years they’ve been sitting in a safety deposit box. Waiting. Millions of dollars and I couldn’t touch it. Until Renwick offered me a way out.”

“But how did you get them?” Jennifer asked. “How did you do it?”

“Didn’t you get taught to check back?” Corbett flicked his eyes to hers. “FBI 101, Jennifer. Always, check back. You were more interested in following the obvious clues I’d left you than in doing your basic homework.” He gave a short laugh. “But then, that’s why I chose you. I knew you’d be so desperate to do well, to impress, to earn another shot at the big time that you’d go for the story I’d carefully laid out for you. If you’d looked properly, you’d have noticed my name as the officer in charge when the coins were moved from Philadelphia back to Fort Knox ten years ago.”

Jennifer felt suddenly hot. He was right. She had followed the obvious clues, even when she’d sensed that something was wrong. She’d got carried away by her hunger to succeed.

“There I was, two weeks after Martha left me for some guy she met in her yoga class, sitting in the back of a van with five coins worth millions of dollars handcuffed to my wrist. So I just opened the case and took them. When we got down to Fort Knox, no one checked that the coins were there. They just signed the case in and took it straight down to the vault, empty. Everyone trusted good old Bob Corbett. They always have. It was too easy.” He smiled at them triumphantly.

“So what was the plan? Smuggle the coins back to Europe and auction them off? What was your cut?” Tom asked.

“Half the proceeds.”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Jennifer, her face wrinkled in disgust. “Give me the coins.”

Corbett reached inside his jacket and removed the polished metal case.

“You’d better call for some backup,” said Tom as he took the case from Corbett and gave it to Jennifer. She opened it to check that the coins were there and then snapped it shut again.

“You leave first.”

“No way. Not till he’s been dealt with.”

“I’m serious. I can take it from here.” She held her hand out for the gun. “Until all this has been cleared up, you shouldn’t risk getting caught.”

“You sure?”

An unfamiliar voice echoed across the tomb’s empty space before she could answer.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

A man was standing in the corridor’s half shadow, gazing at Max’s outstretched body. Tom turned to Jennifer.

“It’s Clarke.”