Cruise Control Page 8

  “Door locked?”

  Smith didn’t answer. He stepped aside and let Army test the door for himself. It was locked. Army turned to the watching faces.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as I said. The room is locked and guarded. The other door is around the corner and you will find it guarded in the same manner.”

  One of the group broke off to check. He stopped, looked and then nodded, before returning to us.

  Anastasia looked at me.

  “It’s all good,” I said.

  “No thanks to you,” she said.

  “Can we get in?” asked the man with the Gauguin.

  “No, sir. Your keycard won’t work until the morning.”

  “I’d like to check my pieces.”

  “Me, also,” said another man.

  “I think we’d all like that,” said Anastasia.

  I watched Army closely. He was good. I would have let out an exasperated sigh. But he didn’t. He knew that letting them in for five minutes to check their toys was better than arguing about it for ten minutes and then letting them in.

  Army used his keycard and then an actual old-fashioned key to unlock the door. He asked the vendors to line up and show their ship pass to his security guard so he could confirm their vendor status.

  I looked into the room and saw darkness. Army stepped inside and turned on a handful of lights. It wasn’t the same cabaret look from earlier. Now it was closer to emergency lighting and it gave the room a lot of dark corners, which made me think of the Titanic, and that wasn’t a direction I wanted my brain to go.

  The vendors each drifted over to their respective stands or stalls and checked their merchandise. Artwork was inspected and statuettes uncovered and drawers of posters were opened. Nothing looked amiss. The thought occurred to me that if I wanted to steal something from the room, now would be the time to do it. The lighting was poor and the vendors looked like the ghosts of long-dead dancers floating across the ballroom floor. Though, of course, my logic was flawed—if there ever was any logic to thinking about ghosts—because the ship was new and no such people had trod its shiny floors at all.

  I doubled-checked the door and to see that the guard that Army had put in place was standing firm, not letting anyone in or out without ID. I wandered over to Danielle who was at Anastasia’s station. Anastasia herself had taken some time to get down behind her cabinet to access her safe. Wearing a long gown didn’t make that kind of thing easy. I heard her punch in the code, then there was a clunk, and then she pulled out one of the black boxes and placed it on the glass top of the cabinet. She repeated the process with the second box. Then she slowly stood and brushed off her gown.

  She took the first box and slipped off the cover. There was no spotlighting to highlight the gems inside, but the rings were all present and accounted for. Army was marching slowly around the room, watching. He made his way around to us and glanced at the rings. I thought they would catch his interest. He looked like a football fan to my eye.

  “Everything in order, ma’am?” he asked Anastasia.

  She nodded curtly. “Yes.”

  Army glanced at the rings again. “A fine collection. But you might consider putting them in chronological order.”

  “They are in order,” she replied.

  “With respect, ma’am, if they were in order, Green Bay would be the first, not New York.”

  We all looked at the rings. Army was right. The first ring in the collection belonged to the Jets, from Super Bowl III.

  “Good eye,” I said.

  “Packers are my team,” said Army.

  That figured. In my experience, lots of solid, dependable types like Army turned out to be Green Bay fans. Perhaps it was the nature of the place itself—cold and harsh and unforgiving in the football season—or perhaps it was the nature of the ownership structure, being the only publicly owned NFL team. Were it in private hands, there was no doubt in my mind that in the media-obsessed world we lived in, the team would have been moved out of tiny Green Bay, Wisconsin, years ago. But the ownership structure all but ensured that couldn’t happen, and solid folks like Army were drawn to that sense of permanence.

  “I’m sure you’re wrong,” said Anastasia.

  “He’s not,” I said. “Green Bay was first.”

  “That can’t be. I put them in order myself.”

  “You may have done that, but earlier today when your rings were inspected by the auctioneer, Green Bay was first. I remembered it specifically, because they were in chronological order.”

  Danielle said, “Are you sure you remember all of them?”

  “No. I couldn’t tell you thirteen from fifteen, at least not without a lot of thought. But any real fan knows the last winner and the first winner. Those were the first two rings I looked at when the box was opened. And this morning those two were where they should be.”

  “Perhaps the auctioneer put them back in the wrong order?” asked Danielle.

  “He didn’t. He inspected them one at a time, leaving only one specific space in the box to put each one back. And anyway, I did the same thing after he valued them. Just before they were locked away. I looked at them again and was drawn back to the first and last. They were where they should be.”

  “Maybe you mistook the Jets for Green Bay.”

  I shot Danielle a look. “I’m from New England. We don’t mistake the Jets for anything but the Jets.”

  Danielle shrugged. “What difference does it make anyway? They can be reordered.”

  Which is what I thought Anastasia was going to do. She picked up the Jets rings from Super Bowl III and looked at it and frowned. Then she looked up and around the room at the lighting and grumbled under her breath.

  “I don’t have my loupe,” she said. “Where is Arnold?”

  “He’s around,” said Army. “I’ll find him.”

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  Anastasia gave me a pinched look. “For you.”

  I said nothing to that.

  Army returned with the auctioneer in tow.

  “Your loupe,” Anastasia said. “Now.”

  Arnold handed her his round magnifying glass which she snatched from his hand. She put the device to her eye and inspected the ring, then she held it out to Arnold.

  “Look at this.”

  Arnold took the ring and the loupe and checked the ring over. Then he dropped the magnifying glass from his eye, put it back again and checked the ring once more.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “You see it?” asked Anastasia.

  “What is it?” asked Army.

  Arnold held the ring up so we could see it.

  “It appears to be some kind of zinc alloy with cubic zirconia stones.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means this ring is a fake.”

  Arnold placed the ring back in the box and took the second one in line, belonging to the Kansas City Chiefs. He inspected it and then replaced it. He took the next ring, Baltimore Colts, and looked it over.

  “They’re all fakes,” he whispered.

  “Of course they are,” I said. “Isn’t that the point?”

  “You stupid man,” said Anastasia.

  “No,” said Arnold. “The other rings were reproductions, fully licensed. They were exact copies in every way. The gold, the diamonds, all the same as the originals. The gems alone were worth tens of thousands on each ring. These are cheap knockoffs.”

  “So the others were real fakes but these are fake fakes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the others were worth thousands?”

  “I set the reserve on each ring at thirty thousand. Some would sell for double that.”

  “And what are these ones worth?”

  “This ring,” he said, looking at the Colts ring, “is worth maybe twenty bucks on eBay.”

  “How?” I said, my thoughts leaking out through my mouth.

  “You,” said Anastasia. “You were
security. You’re responsible.”

  I really wanted to tell her why I was actually there, but I knew Ron would think less of me for it, so I bit my tongue.

  “I’m going to sue you for everything,” she said.

  “I don’t have anything,” I said. Then I thought of my newly renovated home. It was something, and it was something that meant something to me, although until that second I hadn’t realized how much it meant to me.

  “I’ll have the shirt off your back.”

  “Perhaps we should check the other box?” said Army.

  Arnold did so, with the same result. Fakes.

  “Okay, let’s take a step back,” I said. “You inspected the rings earlier this afternoon?” I said to Arnold.

  He nodded. “I did.”

  “And they were fine.”

  “Absolutely fine.”

  “And you couldn’t have made a mistake?”

  Now he gave me a look. Everyone was doing it. It was becoming a thing.

  “I think I know the difference between a quality gemstone and a piece of plastic.”

  “Sure, I’m just asking,” I said. “So you checked the rings and they went back in the boxes here.”

  “Yes. Then Mrs. Connors and I went to my desk to sign the auction agreement, and I took possession of the certificates of authenticity.”

  “The rings were left with you,” said Anastasia, clearly making a point.

  “They were,” I said. “You put the lids back on both the boxes before you left. And your husband took the boxes and put them in the safe. He left the safe open.”

  “I locked it when I returned,” she said.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Could the original fakes still be here?” Danielle asked.

  “They are not fakes,” said Anastasia. “Licensed reproductions, will you get it right?”

  “I apologize, ma’am. But could the reproductions still be here?”

  I made to get under the cabinet and search but Anastasia put a stop to that.

  “Not you. Him.” She pointed at Army, so he got down on his hands and knees and checked the area.

  “Nothing,” he said, standing. “I’ll alert my staff and confirm nothing has left this room.” He strode away to the door. When he came back he said, “My man confirms that no bags have been brought into the room and he will let none leave. Either way, you came straight here when the door opened. No other vendor could have gotten near without you seeing them.”

  “So how did two boxes of real rings turn into two boxes of fake rings?” I posed. “Inside a locked safe, which was itself inside a locked, guarded room, which was on a ship at sea.”

  “We need to check the video,” said Army. He strode away again.

  “There’s some serious David Copperfield stuff going on here,” I said.

  Anastasia looked at me in disgust.

  “Well,” she said. “Go with him! Do your job! Or you’ll be hoping David Copperfield can make you disappear.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Army stayed until the vendors had confirmed that no other pieces had been stolen or replaced with fakes. Then he locked the room himself and left his guards in place. Danielle had offered to escort Anastasia back to her suite but Anastasia had suggested she wasn’t going back to her suite, but when she did, it would likely be safer to do it alone. Danielle endured the jab without comment, but when Anastasia finally left, Danielle followed her regardless. Following someone solo on a cruise ship wasn’t that easy to do, but Danielle was a pro, and hopefully she would wind up watching Anastasia in a dining room or bar or some other well-trafficked area.

  I went with Army to the security room, which was buzzing. Video was being watched and fast-forwarded and rewound and watched all over.

  “Who has ballroom two?” asked Army.

  “I do, sir,” said a guy at the end of the room.

  “Talk to me.”

  We stood behind the guy, who paused the video he was watching.

  “I have the video from the time ball two was closed to the vendors for the night. I’m watching it through at speed for the first pass.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing, sir. I’m not done yet, but so far no one goes in or out. Jeffries is on post first shift, and then Smith takes over. That’s it.”

  “Keep at it. I need someone to go over the video for the other side of the room.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” said a young woman in the next seat. She didn’t pause her video or take her eyes from the screen. “No action at all.”

  “And inside the room?”

  “You have video in the room?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Army. “Three angles, if I recall correctly.”

  Another guy at a similar console directed our attention to the two screens on the wall. “Chief, I have the three cameras. With the way the room is set up, only two have an angle on the cabinet where the rings were held. And one of those is only partial. I’m focusing on the one on the left there, with the best view.”

  “Can you show me the rings arriving?”

  “Yes, Chief.” He tapped at his keyboard and brought up a long shot from behind the auctioneer’s lectern. On the far right, I saw the booth where Anastasia would set up. The glass cabinet was empty. Then Frederick, Danielle and I walked into shot. We stopped by the cabinet and then waited. And waited.

  “What was happening here?” asked Army.

  “Nothing. We were waiting for his wife to arrive.”

  “They didn’t come together?”

  “No. Apparently she was still getting ready in the suite.”

  “What did you talk about while you waited?”

  “Nothing at all. He didn’t seem all that chatty.”

  “And he didn’t have the rings?”

  “No. She had them.”

  “So why were you with him? Shouldn’t security be with the valuables?”

  “We were a last-minute engagement, by him. I hadn’t yet met Mrs. Connors.”

  Army glanced at me. He wasn’t completely buying my story. Which proved again that he was a sharp operator. I considered telling him my real reason for being on board but decided to hold that for later.

  He turned back to the screen, and we watched Anastasia arrive with her little roller case. She took the boxes out and placed them on the glass-topped counter, before opening each one. Then Arnold the auctioneer came over and did his appraisal.

  “So he checked the rings?” asked Army.

  “Yes. Each one individually. He was quite thorough.”

  “And he gave them the okay?”

  “He did. Exquisite was the word he used.”

  “I’ve never thought of a Super Bowl ring as exquisite.”

  “Me either.”

  On screen, Arnold and Anastasia walked away and then Frederick took the closed boxes and put them in the safe.

  “So what happened here?”

  “The auctioneer asked Anastasia to sign some documents related to the auction. And he took the certificates of authenticity. Anastasia closed the boxes and her husband put them in the safe.”

  “You saw him do this?”

  “I did.”

  “And then?”

  “What you see on the video is what I saw. He didn’t lock the safe, though. He said she would want to do that.”

  We watched Anastasia return and drop behind the cabinet to lock the safe.

  “Did you watch her lock it?”

  “No. She didn’t want me seeing the code she used. But she closed it, and I heard the electronic lock.”

  “But you didn’t test it to see if it was locked properly.”

  “No.”

  He nodded to himself.

  “But she pulled on the handle to make sure it was closed. It was.”

  We watched Frederick offer his arm to his wife. They walked away and security ushered the vendors out. Danielle and I stayed in place for a moment, watching them go, then we left as well.

  “That’s
it?” asked Army.

  “That’s it, Chief.”

  “Anyone go near the cabinet after that?”

  “No one. I’m going to check the video after the room is locked.”

  “And did anyone go in or out that should not have?”

  A woman at a table to the side of the room swiveled around. “Only two names didn’t have proper vendor authorization, sir. Jones and Castle.”

  Army looked at me.

  “Like I say, it was a last minute engagement. I guess Mr. Connors hadn’t set that up.”

  “Right,” he said.

  He looked me in the eyes. I knew the look. He was summing me up. I’d been summed up plenty of times before. My fiancée did it often. But his look didn’t reassure me. He had doubts. Millions of dollars in jewels had gone missing aboard his ship. That sort of thing didn’t make for good PR. And I suspected his job in such circumstances was first and foremost to protect the interests of the cruise line. But I also knew he was a straight shooter. He’d take a theft like that personally. On his watch, that kind of thing. So he’d want to figure out what the hell had happened. And so far he only had two people anywhere near the stolen items whose stories didn’t add up.

  Danielle Castle and Miami Jones.

  I ran it through. What would I think in his position? If I had taken the rings, how would I get away with it? By messing with any investigation. And how would I do that? By getting in on said investigation. But how? I thought about how I had gotten here. The incident in the Hall of Fame, and then the incident at BJ Baker’s speech. Both events I could have set up. Save the captain some embarrassment and get in his good graces. Get on the inside of things. That’s how I would have done it, if I wanted to set things up. That’s what I’d be thinking if I were Army. And if I were Army, I wouldn’t let me anywhere near the investigation now. Which might not matter to me, since I really wasn’t security at all. But then again, it might matter if I ever needed Army’s help to track Guy X. There were a lot of cameras on board, and only one of me. I could really use his help.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “You’re damn right,” he said, directing me out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Army’s office was a locker-sized room next to security control. There was space against the wall for a desk and a single chair. He gave me the chair and he leaned against the desk so that he was looking down at me. Classic interrogation position.