Hostage Midwife. Cassie Miles
other people who thought they deserved to wear crowns.”
“My ex was a lawyer. Lots of bigheaded people in that profession want tiaras and crowns.”
As they strolled past the cubicles that were decorated with photos and personalized touches, the overhead lights—which were on motion sensors after the offices closed—came on automatically. Samuel had done an extensive upgrade on the electric and ventilation system in this building about five years ago. Though the decor featured saturated colors and lots of dark wood trim like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club, the underlying design was state-of-the-art.
The back wall of the ninth floor had a large office in each corner. “We’re in front of Marian’s office,” he said. “On the opposite side, it’s Uncle Samuel.”
In the area between, Kelly paused to admire the gold-mining artifacts in two glass cases, including pans, winches and pickaxes. She studied the large oil painting above the oak wainscoting. The subject was a grizzled prospector leading a mule. She said, “That looks like a Remington.”
“It’s Remington’s style, but my great-grandfather commissioned the painting from one of his contemporaries. The prospector’s face is actually a portrait of Great-Grandpa Spencer himself. At one time, the ass had the face of his number-one competitor.”
“Why was it changed?”
“After my great-grandpa drove the ass out of business, the painting seemed mean.” He pushed open the door to a large conference room with a polished oak table, leather chairs and several other paintings hanging on the walls. “That little one with the bronco rider is a Remington.”
“I like the historical touches. It’s very Old West Colorado.”
“Not really my taste,” he confided as he crossed the room. “I like light and modern with clean lines. The office I usually work from is in the mountains.”
“I thought you lived in Valiant.”
“My brother wanted me to fill in while he was out of town for a week.” His clever brother had also dragged him into the issues with Uncle Samuel. “I’ve got a condo here, but I live in Breckenridge. Most of my work is in the ski resorts.”
At the back of the conference room, he paused beside a door that appeared to be dark oak. His knuckles flicked against the surface. “This entire section of wall and the door is heavy-duty steel.”
“The security you were talking about.” She came closer. “Is the gold in there?”
“This is only the first step.” He flipped open a nearly invisible wall panel to reveal a keypad. After punching in a five-number code, he opened the door to a brightly lit room. The walls were lined with utilitarian shelves and file cabinets. “This is our secure area where we keep confidential paperwork, contracts and mapping information. We call it the vault.”
“I’m surprised,” she said. “I would have thought this information would be computerized.”
“We’re working on it. Some of these documents date back to the 1800s. If they ever got lost, we’d have a hard time replacing them.” He took her by the shoulders and situated her in front of a floor-to-ceiling section of smoky gray glass that was about twelve feet long. “Ready?”
“Amaze me,” she said.
He hit a switch and a light came on behind the glass, turning it transparent. Behind a wall of reinforced steel bars, the Valiant gold shone with a radiance that rivaled the sun. The stacks of fifty kilobars took up about as much space as a medium-size coffee table. Nick had seen the gold hundreds of times. He’d held the kilobars and felt their weight in his hands. Still, being this close always gave him a thrill.
Kelly whispered, “Can I touch it?”
“Afraid not.”
She leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the real color of gold before. It almost seems alive.”
He heard the excitement in her voice as she continued. “When I look at this, I can understand why gold has been coveted throughout history—from King Midas to the search for El Dorado.”
“And into the present day. Two months ago, an Ethiopian prince offered to purchase the Valiant gold.”
His family’s treasure was more than a showpiece; it was collateral. If Marian was right and the company was on the brink of disaster, they could sell the gold—a worst-case scenario.
She tapped the glass wall. “This doesn’t seem like enough protection.”
“The glass is reinforced and the steel bars are unbreakable. The only way to open these doors is with a code and two simultaneous fingerprints from Spencer heirs. That includes me, my brother, Uncle Samuel and a cousin who’s currently on an expedition to the North Pole.”
“What about your mother?”
“Mom passed away when I was just a kid.”
“I’m sorry…. Do I see a safe in the corner behind the gold?”
He nodded. “There’s family jewelry in there. Ironically, the diamonds are probably worth as much as the gold. It’s too bad those necklaces and rings are almost never worn.”
“A real shame.” She pivoted and looked up at him. “Diamonds are meant to be seen.”
He would have liked nothing more than to retrieve one of the ornate necklaces from the safe, drape it around her throat and make love to her on the Valiant gold. “I wish I could show you.”
“There’s something magical about precious gems. I got to wear a very valuable rented bracelet once.” She gestured gracefully. “Rubies and diamonds.”
“You must have been attending an important event.”
“The Governor’s Inaugural Ball. He’s a friend of my ex.”
Nick was getting curious about the ex’s identity. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve always been good at fading into the wallpaper, even when I’m wearing diamonds.”
“You look plenty sparkling to me.”
He heard a loud pop. A gunshot?
Grabbing Kelly’s wrist, he pulled her out of the vault and shut the door. As he ran toward the exit from the conference room, he shouted to her, “Stay back.”
In the hallway, Marian poked her head out of her office and called to him. “The noise sounded like it came from your uncle’s office.”
“Was it a gun?”
“I think so.”
A moment ago, he’d thought the worst fate that could befall the Spencers was to lose the gold. He hadn’t considered physical harm to his family. At the door to his uncle’s office, Nick grasped the handle. It was locked. “Samuel, open up. Samuel? Are you all right?”
There was no reply. If there was a gunman in the office, Nick should proceed carefully. But if Samuel had been shot, they had to get in there and help him.
Marian grasped his sleeve. “Don’t you have a key in your office?”
“That’s all the way upstairs. It’ll take too long.”
In a few strides, he was at the glass display case beside the prospector painting. Fortunately, the case wasn’t locked. Nick reached inside and wrapped his fingers around a pickax from the 1800s.
At the door to his uncle’s office, he used the tool to break the latch before he kicked the door open. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air. There was no one in the room except for his white-haired Uncle Samuel who sprawled on the floor beside his desk. Blood spread in a dark stain on the beige carpet. A .45 caliber gun was in his right hand.
Nick