Chapter 12 - The Hidden Cache
Thursday morning arrived with a gray, biting wind that whipped off the Atlantic. Nora returned to Newport to execute the first phase of her plan: locating the thirty thousand dollars in cash Victor had promised the forgers.
Through Marcus's digital monitoring, they had discovered that Victor had visited a private, non-bank safety deposit facility in downtown Providence twice over the past forty-eight hours. These facilities were often used by individuals who wanted to store high-value assets outside the traditional banking system, away from court-ordered receivers and IRS audits.
Nora sat in the parked van across the street from the facility, watching the entrance.
"Target is on the move," Marcus said over the radio. "He just left his apartment. He’s heading toward your position, Colonel. ETA five minutes."
"Copy that," Nora said. "I'm in position."
She wore a simple, elegant black trench coat and dark glasses, looking like any other wealthy resident of the area. She entered the facility’s secure lobby, carrying a small leather briefcase. She had rented a small box here years ago under an alias—a standard precautionary measure she maintained out of old habit.
As she was being escorted to the vault area by a polite clerk, she saw Victor.
He was standing at a private counter, his back to her. He was frantically stuffing thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a heavy, waterproof canvas duffel bag. His hands were shaking, and he was sweating despite the cool air-conditioning of the vault.
Nora stopped, pretending to look for something in her purse. She watched him through the reflection of the polished metal safety deposit boxes.
Victor zipped the bag shut. He looked around nervously, his eyes scanning the room. For a brief second, his gaze drifted near Nora, but she kept her head down, her face obscured by her hair and glasses. He didn't recognize her. He was too consumed by his own panic to see the predator standing right next to him.
He grabbed the bag and hurried out of the vault, his footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor.
Nora turned to the clerk. "Actually, I forgot my key in the car. I’ll be right back."
She walked out of the facility just in time to see Victor getting into his car—a rented black SUV.
"Marcus," Nora said into her collar mic. "Target has the cash. He’s moving. We are green for the final phase."
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"Copy that, Colonel," Marcus's voice crackled back. "The Boston Harbor Police tactical boat is in position. The FBI team is staging two blocks from Slip 42. We are ready."
Nora got into her own car, a dark, high-powered sedan. She pulled out into the traffic, keeping three cars behind Victor’s SUV. The trap was set, and the bait was in motion.
