“Is everything still set?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Benji took a breath, and reminded himself that anyone who had a passion for arson was bound to have more than a few screws loose.
His phone vibrated with another call from Devin.
“About to turn onto Mulholland.”
“Excellent. We’re ready and waiting. Turn on your walkie. You should be in range.”
A moment later, Devin’s voice came over the radio. “Check. Check.”
“I read you,” Benji said. “Sticks, they’re almost here.”
Around the bend, Sticks grinned. Finally, he thought.
He began moving dry tree branches into the middle of the road from where he and Benji had piled them on the shoulder. The road was narrow, with bushes and trees lining both sides, so by the time he finished, there was no way to drive around the low barrier he’d created.
“Two minutes,” Devin announced.
Sticks doused the wood with lighter fluid, then started counting in his head. When he reached sixty, he flicked on his lighter, set a handful of twigs ablaze, and threw them on the pile.
The wood burst into flames with a low whoosh.
He grinned like a schoolboy at the sound, then beamed as the inferno filled the road.
Back around the bend, Benji had already repositioned to the T-bone intersection from where their prey would be coming. Their scheduled route would have taken them straight through, but now a delineator blocked the way.
Benji turned on his mic. “Status?”
“We’re almost there,” Devin said.
“Anyone else around?”
“No one.”
Benji donned a face mask and sunglasses, then strode out to the barrier. He heard the auction house’s delivery van a few seconds before he saw it. He began signaling for the van to turn down the less-used road.
It slowed as it approached, then instead of turning, it stopped. The driver rolled down his window. “Is there a problem?”
“Brushfire ahead,” Benji said. He pointed again toward the other road. “This route will get you down the hill.”
As hoped, the mention of a fire sparked fear in the driver’s eyes.
“Sir, we need to keep traffic moving.” Benji motioned again toward the other road.
The driver nodded, then turned down the road, all according to plan.
Following right behind him was Devin. Once both vehicles made the turn, Benji moved the delineator onto the road behind them, blocking the route to any other traffic.
Chapter 22
The delivery van driver slammed on the brakes and stared at the sight ahead.
“Oh, shit,” his coworker said from the passenger seat.
A wall of fire filled the road, a few dozen feet in front of them.
“Back up, back up!”
That snapped the driver out of his daze. He reached for the shifter, but before he could put it into reverse, someone knocked on his window.
Standing outside was a man in a uniform and face mask, just like the guy who had sent them down this road.
The man motioned for the driver to roll down his window. He did so.
“You can’t come this way,” the man said.
“I see that. I’m going to turn around.”
“Can’t go that way, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Without any other warning, the man brought up a small canister and sprayed its contents into the cab.
Within seconds, both deliverymen were unconscious.
By the time Benji reached the van, Devin and Sticks had subdued the men inside, and Devin searched the driver for keys.
Benji glanced at the still burning barrier, then said to Sticks, “You want to take care of that before it becomes a problem?”
“I don’t see why. It’ll probably burn itself out.”
That is not what it looked like to Benji. In fact, it appeared to him that it was just moments away from jumping to the dry vegetation beside the road.
“Take care of it,” Benji snapped. Starting a major blaze was not part of the plan.
“Fine. Waste of a good fire, if you ask me.”
Sticks walked off with one of their fire extinguishers.
Devin backed out of the cab, holding a set of keys. “Found ’em.”
“Give them to me, then go help Sticks. I’ll take care of this.”
Devin tossed him the keys, then grabbed the other extinguisher and jogged toward the fire.
Benji opened the back of the van and grinned. A picture-shaped item covered in protective wrapping was strapped against the side of the van.
He cut through the restraints, slit open the Bubble Wrap, then peeled back the plastic and confirmed it was the correct painting. He took a photo of it and sent it to Simon with the message: Bingo.
After transferring the painting to the trunk of the sedan, he keyed the walkie. “You guys done yet?”
“I think so,” Devin replied.
“Sticks?”
“Yeah, good enough.”
“Then let’s get out of here while our luck’s holding.”
The delivery van was overdue, and Teddy didn’t like it.
He called June Marnell, his contact at the auction house.
“Good, Mr. Barnett. I was just going to call and check how the delivery went.”
“Exactly the reason I’m calling you. It has not happened at all.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The van has yet to arrive.”
“That’s odd. I should have been notified if they were running late. Can you hold for a moment? I’ll check on their status.”
“I can.”
She was away for longer than he had expected. When she came back on, her earlier cheery disposition had vanished. “It appears something has happened.”
“What kind of something?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you because we don’t know. GPS tracking puts the van three-quarters of a mile from your home, and it’s not moving.”
“You’ve tried calling them?”
“Yes, but no one answers. Our delivery manager thinks they might have a mechanical problem and are in an area with spotty cell coverage. Someone has been sent up to check on them, and I’m told they should be there in twenty minutes. I do apologize for the delay. I’ll let you know the revised delivery time as soon as I—”
“Where exactly are they? If they’re that close, I can be there in a couple minutes.”
“There’s no need for you to do that.”
“It would ease my mind to confirm your delivery manager’s theory.”
“Oh, well... Hold for a moment. Let me get that.”
Teddy was already heading toward the front door. On the way, he stopped at his vintage stereo console cabinet, flipped open the record player compartment, and pressed down on the speed control selector for three seconds. A panel covering one of the speakers swung out like a door. Inside was a speaker a quarter the size of the original 1950s era version, and a Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol, two extra magazines, and an attachable silencer. He grabbed everything but the speaker and raced to his Porsche.
As he was slipping into the driver’s seat, June came back on the line. “I can give you an approximate address.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, could you text that to me?”
“Of course. Right away.”
“Thank you, June.”
The Porsche rumbled to life, and he swung it around the driveway to the street. A check of his phone confirmed the text had arrived.
It took seven minutes to reach the turn onto the road the van was supposedly on. While he didn’t immediately see it because of a bend in the road ahead, thanks to the top being down on his roadster, he did smell the one thing that no one who lived in the hills ever wanted to smell.