Fish & Chips (Cut & Run #3)

Fish & Chips (Cut & Run #3) Page 7

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Stacy Knight greeted as he came over to them, trailed by a lackey whose name Ty couldn"t remember carrying a plastic storage box. Knight held two files in his hand, one of which he handed to Ty.

“Good morning, Q,” Ty drawled, smirking as he took the file.

Knight handled most of the briefing and debriefing of agents when new or unusual technology was being used in a job. Ty didn"t know why he needed to see them before they left for the cruise ship, but he sort of dreaded what Knight was going to show them.

“I don"t have time for you to think you"re clever this morning, Grady,” Knight returned drily. “Both of you give Terry your guns, knives, garrotes, crossbows, and any other unusual weapons you might be carrying, please.”

“What? Why?” Ty demanded.

“You and your baggage will go through security just like at the airports for X-ray and random search. We have to figure out how to hide the weapons and other equipment in your luggage, and we"ll have to be creative, since the bags will go with a valet. So fork it all over.”

Ty and Zane both grudgingly pulled out their service weapons, followed by their backups and any other weaponry they had hidden on them. They placed each piece into the plastic box. When Ty was done, he smoothed a hand over his jacket and nodded to Knight, but Knight merely sighed impatiently as he watched them. Ty shook his head and watched with a hint of amusement as Zane continued piling hidden knives into the bucket.

There was a moment of silence after the last thin throwing knife was placed inside. “Is that all?” Knight drawled, unimpressed.

Zane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He always carried those knives when he was working out of the office; it was an odd quirk Ty hadn"t seen in any other civilian agents. The skill and habit came courtesy of some extra training Zane had lucked into at the academy to make up for his lack of police or military experience. Ty approved, though he wouldn"t tell Zane that.

“Well. Now that we"ve established dominance, follow me,”

Knight said with a roll of his eyes.

“I feel naked now,” Zane muttered.

Ty glanced at Zane and winked at him. Zane hadn"t really had a chance to meet many of the support staff in the Baltimore office yet, and Ty probably wasn"t the best person to introduce him around, not with the reputation Ty had garnered.

“You look like you had a rough night,” Knight commented over his shoulder as they trailed along behind him.

“Just doing some research for the case,” Ty responded with a shrug of one shoulder.

“Sure you were,” Knight muttered with a smile.

They followed Knight to a small conference room, where Special Agent in Charge Dan McCoy sat waiting for them. McCoy stood when they walked in, looking them both over critically.

“I almost didn"t you recognize you myself,” he finally said with an approving nod. “Let me see the arm,” he said as he held his hand out to Ty.

Ty shrugged out of his jacket and rolled his sleeve up, turning his bicep toward McCoy. His tattoo was no longer there. It was odd looking down at his arm and seeing nothing but skin.

“How"d they do it?” McCoy asked in real interest.

“Some sort of synthetic,” Ty answered unhappily. “They glued it down.”

“Looks pretty good if you don"t know you"re looking for it. We"ll make certain to have spare parts in your luggage somewhere,” Knight commented as he leaned closer and peered at Ty"s arm. Ty put his hand on Knight"s forehead and pushed him away.

“Personal space, man,” Ty told him with a good-natured smirk.

He heard Zane stifle a snort.

“Speaking of personal space, let"s get right down to your toys for this one,” McCoy said as he nodded to Knight.

Knight turned to a rolling table much like the kind on which surgeons kept their instruments and picked through an array of devices sitting there. He lifted a pair of sunglasses and turned to hand them to Zane. He handed another to Ty. They were unusually heavy as he hefted them in his palm.

“Stylish,” Ty commented drily.

“Shut up. They"re embedded with a video feed here,” Knight told Ty as he pointed to the upper left portion of the frames. “The other side holds a battery with enough juice for about an hour of recording or three hours of transmission. Use it sparingly. There"s no recharging it.”

“Okay,” Ty mumbled as he turned the glasses over and frowned at them.

“I"m not sure what good these will be,” Zane murmured, setting them aside.

“One of your goals is to take pictures of the men involved. We figured a Nikon might raise suspicion,” McCoy told them. Ty and Zane both nodded slowly.

“And this is your document scanner,” Knight said as he cradled a long device in both palms. It was roughly the size of a ruler, just slightly thicker. “You know how to use one of these, right?” Knight asked Ty dubiously.

“Push the button, scan the document,” Ty answered obediently.

“And no using it as a club. It"s not built for violence,” Knight admonished.

“I only did that one time!” Ty argued. “And to be fair I"m pretty sure it was already—”

“Can it, Grady. No more using sensitive tech gear to maim, understood?” McCoy interrupted.

“Yes, sir,” Ty said in a disgruntled voice. Zane wasn"t even trying to stifle his quiet laughter.

Knight continued. “We tried to devise some way for the two of you to communicate by radio, but we have nothing inconspicuous enough on such short notice. You"ll be on your own as far as that goes.”

“Cell phones?” Zane asked dubiously.

“They"re not reliable at sea, even if the cruise line claims they are.

Not worth the risk of issuing you any, and you can"t take your own.

You"ll have the Porters" phones, with all their contacts. But I"d be careful answering them if I were you,” Knight rambled.

Ty looked between the two men. No reliable way to communicate with his partner or with the rest of the team while aboard ship. Great.

Zane didn"t look too happy either.

“You"ll be reporting back to us by secure server, but the only access will be on the public terminals. You will go by the codenames Punch and Judy.”

“Punch and Judy,” Zane repeated, voice devoid of emotion.

“Hilarious,” Ty commented acerbically.

“I amuse myself. Get over it,” McCoy shot back. “The computers are public, so remember you"ll have to be careful and clever when accessing the server.”

Ty pointed at Zane. “His job.” Zane shrugged.

“Right.” McCoy handed them both thick folders. “And these are your itineraries.”

“Our what?” Ty blurted in alarm. They hadn"t been told about any itineraries yesterday. That was pretty high up on the list of shit they needed to know about.

“How heavily are we scheduled?” Zane asked, not sounding surprised. Ty looked at him sideways, but Zane was studying the papers and paying him no attention.

“They"re pretty firm,” McCoy told them apologetically. “They found them in one of the Porters" bags as they were searching them for intel.”

“How much planning have you put into this case, exactly?” Ty asked critically.

“The ink is still drying,” McCoy told him wryly. He held up a hand to curtail any further protests. “Listen, this opportunity practically dropped into our laps. We"ve managed to keep a lid on the arrest of the Porters. There are half a dozen agencies that should be notified that haven"t been. Interpol, Europol, Scotland Yard, and the Italian Guardia di Finanza, to name a few. Every one of those will be screaming to get their fingers in the pot, and you both know what happens when a case becomes a jurisdictional war. The only way to keep that lid on is to go in silent and go in fast.”

“Which also means there"s a very real chance of you being arrested for trading in stolen antiquities if you run into an agent of any of those organizations,” Knight told them with a hint of childish glee.

Ty shot him a dirty look, and Zane sat forward as he asked, “And if we run into one of those other agencies—”

McCoy cut him off loudly, calling their attention back to him.

“Your goal is to gather intel, understood? Do not attempt to apprehend, detain, capture, curtail, restrict, inhibit, or otherwise prevent the activities of any of the criminals. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ty and Zane answered in unison, Ty not bothering to hide how unimpressed he was with the inventory.

“Porter has two partners: an Italian by the name of Lorenzo Bianchi and a Turk named Vartan Armen. Bianchi is the face of the ring, the only one who surfaces. He does the buying. Stolen antiquities, art, priceless relics, you name it.”

“Where"s this intel coming from?” Ty asked.

“Italy. They"ve had a bead on Bianchi for a few years now but no way to get a foot in the door. Everything about him on paper is legit.

That"s where Armen and Porter come in. Armen targets and handles acquisitions; Porter arranges transport and storage. There is absolutely no information in the wind about Armen. We don"t even have a picture of him. Yet.”

Ty lifted the camera glasses and cheekily saluted his boss with them.

“How"d you catch up to Porter?” Zane asked curiously.

“Traffic violation,” McCoy said with a pleased smirk.

“And you"re damn sure these men have never met in person?” Ty demanded.

“Sure enough to risk your lives on it,” McCoy assured them.

“Each man has a carefully planned itinerary meant to coincide at intervals with the others". That"s how they plan to do their communicating. Or so we understand.”

“So we have to stick to these like glue,” Ty concluded as he waved the file in his hand.

“Yes. Your objectives are simple. Get pictures of Vartan Armen.

Glean as much information as you can about their operations. And don"t get killed.”

ZANE stood at the foot of the circular California king with its fancy linen and coverlet, hands on his hips, looking down at the three open suitcases: one his, two Ty"s. Correction: One Corbin"s, two Del"s.

There were already clothes hanging in the closet that had arrived in garment bags. He wrinkled his nose and looked down at all the stuff and shook his head.

They"d been greeted by a note from the maid on the foot of their bed, telling them the room had been cleaned by Stella and they could be assured there were no bugs in it. Apparently someone on their team was posing as a maid and had swept the room for electronic listening devices. It gave them a little freedom, anyway, and considering the entire ship was closed-circuit recorded, they"d take what small amount of privacy they could get.

Ty stood not far away, beyond the partitions that divided the lavishly decorated Owner"s Suite into bedroom and living areas, contemplating their surroundings. Their suite was one of only six like it on the entire ship, with over five hundred square feet of space. It had to have cost the Porters a pretty penny.

It was also completely decked out for the holidays. A miniature Christmas tree stood in one corner near the balcony doors, and a fruit basket of festive treats sat on the dresser opposite the bed. The entire ship was decorated in similar fashion. Much of the crew wore red Santa hats and ridiculous smiles. Christmas trees in pots and sprigs of mistletoe and white twinkle lights bedecked every area of the ship.

Zane had been sort of shocked to find that Ty loved the holiday theme. He"d complained all morning about missing Christmas with his family, but he"d been distracted by the luxurious appointments they"d found when they entered the cabin.

“Well, it"s better than the berth on the last cruise I took,” Ty told Zane with a slight smirk as he turned to face him.

Zane chuckled. “Bunks aboard an LST?” he joked.

“We had to share, sleep in shifts,” Ty answered wryly. He waved at the cabin full of ebony wood and Persian rugs on the floor. His eyes were shining as he moved toward Zane. “Now I get an upgrade, and I still have to share a bed. A freaking round one.”

“If you"re uncomfortable, there"s plenty of room on that huge couch to stretch out,” Zane teased, turning to face him with one hand on his hip. Ty looked so strange with that blond hair, but Zane was seeing past it now. He focused on how Ty moved, on the color of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, and how it all still made his pulse speed up a little.

“You"d cry if I really did that,” Ty told him with a laugh. He turned away from Zane again, heading for the light streaming through the balcony doors.

“Well, pout maybe,” Zane drawled, following along behind him through the stateroom. It was almost the same size as his apartment, actually. He shook his head over the extravagance. While certainly entertaining to have one of the largest staterooms on the entire cruise ship, it was a hell of a waste of money when all they"d be doing was sleeping there. But it wasn"t their money, so Zane shrugged it off.

“If you"re over four, you"re not allowed to pout,” Ty claimed absently. He pushed through the double glass doors that led to their private balcony and let in a rush of cold ocean air. It was the middle of December on the eastern seaboard. It was cold. But Ty inhaled deeply, putting his head back and smiling as he did so.

Zane leaned against the door frame and just watched. While the dark ocean was gorgeous in the crisp December air, it was Ty who held his attention. Zane didn"t even want a cigarette, which was a normal craving that hit him courtesy of fresh air and stress. Ty was distracting like that, diverting in thought, word, and deed for better or for worse, and that had made it easier for Zane to altogether quit smoking—