For a long time that night she convinced herself to stay quiet, let the lazy summer days pass, don’t rock the boat. Fall would be there soon enough and she would be somewhere else.
Was there a moral right and wrong? She had agreed to take part in a plan with the ultimate goal of piercing Cable’s world and finding the manuscripts. This, she had finally done, though only because of an unbelievable blunder on his part. The operation, with Mercer in the center, had just succeeded. What right did she have to now question the legitimacy of the plan? Bruce had deliberately entered the conspiracy to get rid of the manuscripts, to sell them for profit and keep them away from their rightful owner. With Bruce Cable, there was no moral high ground. He had a reputation for dealing in stolen books and had admitted as much to her. He knew the risks and seemed to eagerly accept them. Sooner or later he would get caught, either for this crime or for a later one.
She began walking at the edge of the water, the tranquil waves pushing the sea foam quietly onto the sand. There were no clouds and the white sand could be seen for miles. On the horizon, the lights of a dozen shrimp boats glimmered on the flat sea. Before she realized it, she was at the North Pier, a long wooden walkway that jutted far into the water. Since her return to the island she had avoided the area because it was where Tessa had washed ashore. Why was her granddaughter there now?
She climbed the steps and followed the pier to its end, where she leaned on a railing and gazed at the horizon. What would Tessa do? Well, to begin with, Tessa would never find herself in such a predicament. She would never allow herself to be compromised. She would never be seduced by the money. With Tessa, right was right and wrong was wrong and there were no gray areas. Lying was a sin; your word was your word; a deal was a deal, regardless of the inconvenience.
Mercer anguished back and forth as the battle raged. She finally decided, at some awful hour of the morning, that the only way to stay quiet was to return the money and walk away. Even then, though, she would keep a secret that rightfully belonged to others, to the good guys. Tessa would be scornful if she backed out now.
She got in bed around 3:00 a.m., with no chance of sleeping.
At exactly five, she made the call.
15.
Elaine was awake, quietly sipping the first cup of coffee in the dark while her husband slept beside her. The plan called for another trip to Camino Island, her tenth or eleventh so far. She would take the same flight from Reagan National to Jacksonville, where either Rick or Graham would be waiting. They would meet in their safe house on the beach and assess things. There was excitement because their girl had spent the weekend with their target. Surely she had learned something. They would call her in for a late afternoon meeting and get the scoop.
At 5:01, however, all plans went out the window.
When Elaine’s phone vibrated and she saw who was calling, she eased out of bed and went to the kitchen. “It’s a bit early for you.”
Mercer said, “He’s not as smart as we thought. He has the manuscript for The Last Tycoon and he showed it to me last night. It’s in his vault, just as we thought.”
Elaine absorbed it and closed her eyes. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Based on the copies you’ve shown me, I’m pretty certain.”
Elaine sat on a bar stool at the breakfast counter and said, “Tell me everything.”
16.
At six, Elaine called Lamar Bradshaw, the head of the FBI’s Rare Asset Recovery Unit, and woke him up. His plans for the day were also tossed. Two hours later they met in his office in the Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue for a full briefing. As she expected, Bradshaw and his team were irritated that Elaine and her company had secretly put together such an elaborate scheme to spy on Bruce Cable, a suspect they had discussed only in passing a month earlier. Cable was on the FBI’s list, along with a dozen others, but only because of his reputation. Bradshaw had not taken him seriously. The FBI detested private, parallel investigations, but at the moment bickering in a turf battle would not be productive. Bradshaw was also forced to swallow his pride because Elaine Shelby had once again found the stolen goods. A quick truce was found, peace prevailed, and joint plans were made.
17.
Bruce Cable awoke at six in his apartment above the store. He drank coffee and read for an hour before going downstairs to his office in the First Editions Room. He turned on his desktop and began reviewing his inventory. The most unpleasant part of his job was deciding which books were not going to sell and must be returned to their publishers for credit. Each book returned was a failure on his part, but after twenty years he had almost grown accustomed to the process. For an hour he roamed the darkened store, pulling books from shelves and off tables, piling them into sad little stacks back in the stockroom.
At 8:45, as always, he returned to the apartment, quickly showered and changed into his daily seersucker, and at nine sharp turned on the lights and opened the front door. Two clerks arrived first and Bruce set them to work. Thirty minutes later, he went to the basement and unlocked the metal door leading to Noelle’s storage area. Jake was already there, tapping small nails into the back of an ancient chaise. Mercer’s writing table was finished and off to one side.
After the pleasantries, Bruce said, “Our friend Ms. Mann will not be buying the table after all. Noelle wants it shipped to an address in Fort Lauderdale. Knock off the legs and find a crate.”
“Sure,” Jake said. “Today?”
“Yes, it’s a rush job. Hop on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
18.
At 11:06, a chartered jet took off from Dulles International. On board were Elaine Shelby and two of her associates, and Lamar Bradshaw and four special agents. En route, Bradshaw spoke again to the U.S. Attorney in Florida, and Elaine called Mercer, who was holed up in a local library trying to write. She said she was finding it impossible to be creative at the bed-and-breakfast. Elaine thought it best if she stayed away from the bookstore for a couple of days, and Mercer assured her she had no plans to go near it. She had seen enough of Bruce for a while and needed a break.
At 11:20, an unmarked cargo van parked on Santa Rosa’s Main Street across from the bookstore. Inside were three field agents from the Jacksonville office. They aimed a video camera at the front door of Bay Books, and began filming every person who entered and left. Another van, with two more field agents, parked on Third Street and began surveillance. Their job was to film and monitor every shipment in and out of the store.