“Do the clients know?” I asked. Delilah had told me as much the other day—the interesting gray area Codex and the FBI operated in together.
“Sometimes,” Abe said, “although it’s rarely their concern. You’d be surprised at how many of our clients merely want the item back, regardless of punishment.”
“Delilah hates that part,” I added.
“Delilah is a very just person,” Abe agreed. “But she’s starting to bend a little.”
And I was too—although every day at Codex was nudging me closer to vengeful than I’d anticipated.
“According to my contact, late last night, a bureau agent working with an Interpol field office believed they spotted Bernard in Greece.”
“What?” I asked, leaning forward. “They’re sure?”
“They’re not even remotely sure,” he said. “The photos were blurry, inconclusive. It could have been another person entirely. Bernard fled quickly that night, but in many ways, I believe he’d been planning for this inevitability for a long time. The fact that he’d compiled those letters, incriminating you, tells me he had a back-up plan. I believe he is well-prepared to be underground for a while.” Abe swirled his bourbon. “I thought you should know.”
“Did Delilah tell you she asked me if I knew where he was?”
He rubbed his jaw. “She’s smart. Smarter than me, that’s for sure.”
“Did you think I knew where he was?” I asked. “Does everyone here think I was helping Bernard?”
“I never thought that,” Abe explained. He sipped his drink, eyeing me over the glass. “I did think you thought he was innocent.”
“That’s not untrue,” I admitted. “I know he’s guilty now. I just never wanted to believe it.”
He rubbed his eyes, glanced down the street for our limo. He sighed raggedly. “I think I fucked everything up, taking this job.” I went completely still at this uncharacteristic confession. Almost two whole minutes clicked by before my boss spoke again. “This job was too risky, and not once did I see a clear path to success. But it would have been our highest profile case yet with the largest payout and I…”
“You what?” I asked.
Abe crunched ice between his teeth. “I guess I’m still a little pissed that the McMasters Library didn’t hire me to go after Bernard and the Tamerlane. I can be…unnecessarily prideful. And I hoped that Codex would be able to recover the dozens of stolen manuscripts he’d sold throughout the years more quickly than the FBI or Interpol. And more successfully.” Abe swirled liquor around his glass—we both watched the splash of liquid. “I started Codex as a way to remove myself from the innate competitiveness of the FBI. The backbiting and politics and internal drama that did nothing to improve our success and everything to diminish it. Now I can’t help but feel like I’m back in it, taking a job we can’t possibly close just to prove to myself we could do it.”
“If Francisco hadn’t told us that the FBI hadn’t been successful in their recovery efforts, would you have been as interested?” I asked.
His eyes flashed with humor. “Smart man.”
I was silent.
“I started Codex because I felt like we lost a lot of things—manuscripts, antiques, rare art—because of slow-moving, bureaucratic bullshit. It’s why I think it’s important that you’re here, Henry. To remind us of the cost beyond one person stealing from another.”
“Is that the whole reason why you started it?”
Abe shook his head. “Three years ago, I was leading a small team focused on the northeast region. A lot of rare books were being stolen in this DC, New York, Philly corridor. It was incredibly high-pressure, high-stakes. And two of my employees were dating each other.”
It felt like there was no air in the room all of a sudden.
“That wasn’t allowed, I’m guessing?” I asked.
“It was frowned on, but not technically in violation. I didn’t have a real recourse to prevent it from happening. But their relationship grew volatile. Emotional. They dragged their arguments into the office, and I spent long hours mediating. The toxicity of their relationship bled into every other aspect of our unit.” He grimaced, as if the memory still had a visceral effect.
“Did you fire them?” I asked.
“I was starting the process of firing them both during the week we were set to raid a house in Queens. We didn’t anticipate the owners having a lot of firepower. Turns out, they did.” He gulped the rest of his drink. “One of them was shot in the leg and spent two weeks in the hospital and another four in physical therapy. Because we were all distracted.”
“I don’t you think you can—”
“We were distracted.” Abe’s tone was firm.
“Right.”
And how often this week had Delilah and I almost fucked up because we were distracted? I squeezed the bridge of my nose. At night, on the job, the consequences of indulging in our little fantasy felt sexy and daring.
This just felt shitty. And what was I doing—kissing her in closets and writing her notes and telling her she was beautiful in a million different ways?
“You can ask Delilah how that romantic distraction feels,” he continued, “although her situation was incredibly different. She was manipulated by a sociopath. But when she first started here, she appreciated that we were a team of honest professionals. A team that trusts each other.”
“I appreciate that too,” I said thickly. My hands drifted to my vest pocket, where I’d tucked away the surprise I was bringing my partner. It felt silly now—and wildly unprofessional.
Was I the same as Mark, pulling this talented, amazing woman away from her dreams?
“Anyway,” he continued, “I’d already had the concept for Codex floating around for some time. I had a few friends who were private detectives, and they found their jobs to be rather freeing. And I was tired of losing the books, tired of the in-fighting and the stress.”
“You told me when we first met that you’d been chasing Bernard for a long time.”
His eyes were like steel. “I have.”
“But Bernard isn’t our purview. The book is. Right?”
Abe narrowed his eyes—gave a grim smile. “You’re exactly right.” He poured another finger of liquor into his glass. “I’m the kind of person that often needs to hear my own advice, Henry. You should know that, if we’re to continue working together.”
“I understand the desire though,” I said. “I’m a rare book librarian. The return of a book like the Copernicus should be my priority. But…”
Abe waited.
“I want to personally put Bernard in prison.”
“Me too,” he said, swallowing his drink. “Being a human being is very complicated, I’m afraid.”
There was a honk from outside. “Dorran’s here to pick you up. Are you ready?”
I nodded.
“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I promise,” I lied.
35
Delilah