janet maple 05 - it doesnt pay to be bad by Marie Astor Page B

dawn.
    “Who is Director Edwards?” Dennis asked Ham. “I don’t remember meeting him last night when they took in Leonard.”
    Ham cleared his throat. He was just as worn out as Janet and Dennis were, but unlike them, he showed it in his appearance—his eyelids were droopy, with dark circles underneath, and his usually erect shoulders were slumping. “Gus Edwards is an old friend of mine,” Ham said. “We go way back. He used to oversee Organized Crime, but I guess he got transferred. A pleasant surprise for a change.”
    “Did they tell you what this meeting was going to be about, Ham?” Janet asked.
    “I don’t have any specifics, but my hunch tells me we hit on something very big. Leonard Stevens may be a petty thief, but he’s working for someone far more important.”
    “So his crazy story checked out. Then we really must be onto something big—that’s a pretty quick turnaround, even for the FBI,” Dennis said. “And here I was, thinking Leonard was feeding us nonsense.”
    “Did they examine the painting—is it really what Leonard said it was?” Janet asked nervously. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that we bought a stolen painting by accident.”
    “I wasn’t given any specifics over the phone this morning, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Ham replied. “The bureau has some follow up questions for you and Dennis as well.”
    “This ought to be interesting. A gang of international art thieves—adds a nice ring to our resume, don’t you think, Janet?” Dennis winked. “I can’t wait to hear what the bureau dug up on this Leonard fellow.”
    “I just hope we’re not the ones under suspicion,” Janet retorted. “After all, we did buy a stolen painting and brought it into the country. Who knows how many crimes we might’ve unwittingly committed?” Janet worried. “For starters, we didn’t declare it with customs—”
    “We did declare a painting for the value that we paid for it,” Dennis objected. “How were we supposed to know it was a stolen masterpiece worth millions? We don’t have X-ray vision.”
    Janet sighed, wringing her hands. “I hope you’re right. I wish we’d never gone to that damn gallery in the first place and just went to the beach instead—”
    “Janet, Dennis, please calm down,” Ham interjected. “Until this moment the possibility of you being under suspicion didn’t even cross my mind—”
    “But you did say that the bureau has follow-up questions for us,” Janet said nervously.
    “Not as suspects. As witnesses only,” Ham clarified. “Apologies if I wasn’t clear about that—I’m too old for all-nighters. My brain’s fried. If it hadn’t been for your visit to that obscure gallery in Antibes, the stolen painting would still be just that. Just before we headed over here, the bureau thanked me for your cooperation.”
    “That’s a relief.” Janet smiled. “I guess a lack of sleep is playing tricks on my brain too.”
    “We’re going to get all the answers soon.” Ham pointed at the opening door.
    The conference room door parted and two men entered the room. One was older, about Ham’s age, and the other looked to be in his mid-thirties. The older man wore a gray suit with a white shirt and a navy tie. His gray hair was shorn closely to his head, bringing attention to the sharp gaze of his pale gray eyes. His younger colleague was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and a burgundy tie. He had dark blond hair and hazel eyes with an intelligent, thoughtful gaze. He was about five nine; the effortless, catlike fluidity of his movements made it clear that he was in great shape. Janet instantly recognized the younger man as Agent Norris whom they had met when Leonard was brought in for questioning.
    “Ham Kirk—it’s good to see you, old friend.” The older man walked over to Ham, extending his hand for a handshake.
    “Gus Edwards—it’s good to see you too, old friend.” Ham got up from his seat and