Prologue
"Dunbar."
"Max."
"Where?"
Maxwell Dunbar dreaded answering the phone. At six foot tall, he had a gorgeous smile to go with his handsome body only the case he'd been working on had not allowed him to flash it in a very long time.
"Paris."
"Paris? He's gone international?"
"Seems so."
"What about Interpol?"
"They've given you free rein. Since the previous discoveries came under American jurisdiction and you've made headway into the investigation, they've offered up their assistance. It's your case, my boy."
"Wonderful," Dunbar muttered.
"They're holding the crime scene until you get there. I've got a jet waiting at Dulles for you."
"Good. I'll be on my way as soon as I..."
"Packed for you already."
"John, I hate when you do this."
"Part of the job."
"Wonderful."
"Let me know what you find. The White House is a little edgy about this."
"I'm very aware of the situation. Fort Knox's security has been increased but after the bank theft in New York and the heist in Los Angeles ... Damn it!"
"What?"
"Check this out for me and send me the date ASAP."
"What?"
"Time frame between gold thefts and murders for all three ... It looks like he robs the city he leaves his calling card in. See if Paris had one also."
"You got it. Anything else?"
"Where's Locke?"
"On his way in from Stockholm."
"Good."
"What cover do you want?"
"I think the high-priced, works for a cool million security expert. That'll get the important players coming to us."
"I'll take care of it. It'll take a day to set up, so be careful."
A few moments later, they ended the call.
Max grabbed some files, stuffing them in his attaché and left his DC office for Dulles International. Since graduation from college, he had been employed by the Treasury Department and worked his way up to the highest level--covert operations. He and his partner specialized in difficult or high-profile cases, especially ones dealing with money or precious metals. He had a magical touch in the way he operated and sometimes reported directly to the President.
He went to the airport then boarded a private jet to deGaulle International in Paris. With the possibility of having a break in the case, he'd caught a second wind. If the thefts and murders could be connected, they'd have some time after the next theft to try to put a stop to their perp but unfortunately, there would be at least one more death before the guilty party slipped up and Max arrested him. That thought ruined his day.
Once the jet settled into its flight plan, Max sat back and started to mark down similarities. With a third murder, the pattern for their serial killer began to take shape. He spread his notes out on the table in front of him and started with the first case.
Starr, the first victim, died of a gunshot wound neatly through the heart. She had been scheduled to model at a Beverly Hills show but disappeared hours before. When they received the call, it came from an upscale gun club a few blocks away and a few days later.
The secretary had signed for a delivery from an art gallery--nothing unusual. Workmen uncrated a golden statue of a beautiful woman, a Greek goddess in a sheer dress. The odd thing had been the statue wore an actual dress, not a gilded one. Regardless, no one thought it strange until one of the night cleaners touched the statue and didn't like the way it felt. He immediately called the police who responded to find the murdered model encased in gold. The gilding had completely hidden the bullet wound.
The murder had been committed after a Dutch bank in L.A. had discovered the theft of its inventory of gold bullion. The amount of the theft equaled five million dollars. The question Max kept asking--Where did they take the gold and how did they transport it?
At first, Treasury concerned itself only with the theft but, when the Los Angeles M.E. reported the gold body paint used on the murder victim had registered as pure 24K, his department took a closer look before taking over the case. In the back part of his mind, Max had unsettling thoughts. Had their perp gilded his victim after melting down the gold? If so, whoever did it needed a factory large enough to accommodate a smelting operation. He made a note of this.
Sable, the second victim, had been found hanging from a tree in the area of Central Park where Garth Brooks and Billy Joel had given their concerts. The autopsy showed she'd been hung before her gilding then quickly posed to look like an angel. She'd been dressed in a sheer dress like Starr.
When he checked, Max found a Dutch bank in New York's financial district had been robbed several days before Sable missed a show. Three days later, a young couple jogging through the area found her. He noted New York had numerous factory settings where their perp could ply his trade.
Now with Paris, the Golden Killer had gone international. When would it stop?
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