The Racketeer Page 0,108

and finds a rope handle. It's stuck, so she yanks it harder and harder until the door opens. There are no hinges, so the entire trapdoor bolts from the floor and falls against the wall. Under it, on the ground, as advertised, is a soiled bronze casket no more than four feet in length. Vanessa gawks at it in horror, as if she has stumbled upon a crime scene and found some poor child's body. But there is no time for fear or second-guessing, no time to ask, What in hell am I doing here?

She tries to lift the casket, but it is too heavy. She finds the latch, twists, and half of the top lid opens slowly. Mercifully, there is no dead baby inside. Far from it. Vanessa pauses to study the collection of small wooden cigar boxes all sealed with a band of silver duct tape and for the most part stacked in rows. Sweat is dripping from her eyebrows and she tries to swipe at it with a forearm. Carefully, she removes one of the boxes and steps outside under the shade of an oak. Glancing around, seeing no one, nothing but the dog, who's tired of barking and growling, Vanessa peels off the tape, opens the box, and slowly removes a layer of wadded newspaper.

Mini-bars. Little bricks. Dominoes. An entire casket full of them. Millions upon millions.

She removes one and examines it. A perfect rectangle, not quite a half inch thick, lined with a tiny border ridge that allows for precise stacking and storage. On the front side is stamped "10 ounces." And under that: "99.9%." And nothing else - no bank name, no indication of where it came from or who mined it. No registration number.

Using a prepaid credit card, I pay $300 for an Air Jamaica flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico. It leaves in an hour, so I find a bench near my gate and kill time, staring at my cell phone. Before long, it lights up and vibrates.

Vanessa says, "He's not lying."

"Talk to me."

"Love to, baby. We now own eighteen cigar boxes filled with these gorgeous little gold mini-bars, haven't counted them all yet, but there must be at least five hundred."

I take a deep breath and feel like crying. This project has been on the drawing board for over two years, and during most of that time the odds of a successful outcome were at least a thousand to one. A series of loosely connected events had to fall perfectly into place. We're not yet at the finish line, but we are in the homestretch. I can smell the barn.

"Between five hundred and six hundred," I say, "according to our boy."

"He's earned the right to be trusted. Where are you?"

"At the airport. I bought a ticket, made it through Customs, and I'll board in an hour. So far, no problems. Where are you?"

"I'm leaving this dump. I've loaded up the good stuff and put everything back in its place. The house is locked."

"Don't worry about the house. He'll never see it again."

"I know. I gave his dog a whole sackful of food. Maybe someone will check on him."

"Get away from that place."

"I'm leaving now."

"Just follow the plan and I'll call when I can."
Chapter 37
It's almost eleven, Sunday morning, July 24, a hot clear day with little traffic around Radford. Vanessa wants to avoid another encounter with anyone who might see Nathan's pickup truck and get suspicious. She heads north on the interstate, past Roanoke, into the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, driving as cautiously as humanly possible with the needle stuck on seventy miles per hour and every lane change properly telegraphed with a turn signal. She watches the rearview mirror because it's now such a habit, and she watches every other vehicle to avoid any chance of a collision. On the passenger's floorboard, and on the seat next to her, there is literally a fortune in gold, a fortune in unmarked and untraceable ingots freshly stolen from a thief who stole them from a crook who took them from a gang of thugs. How could she explain such a collection of precious metal to a nosy state trooper? She could not, so she drives as perfectly as possible as the 18-wheelers roar by in the left lane.

She exits at a small town and drifts until she finds a cheap dollar store. The banner across the front windows advertises pre-back-to-school specials. She parks near the entrance and spreads a soiled blanket,