Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B Read Online Free PDF Page B

.  I found a small address book tucked into the side pocket.  The book, like new, contained only one entry — Kerstin Weibel .   Her address was in Geneva.  Next to her name was a number, written in a strange format.  It must have been a European phone number .  Inside the front cover were two sets of numbers penciled in: 10-42-58 and 11-29-47.  I stared at the page for a minute and processed the information, then reached for my phone and dialed.
    “Jason?”
    “ Devonie ?   Is that you?  Why are you calling me at …   What time is it anyway?”  I heard him fumble with something, then he came back on the line.  “It’s two in the morning.   What’s going on?”
    “Jason.  Don’t call your friend to open those safes.  I think I found the combina tions ,” I said, my voice quivering.
    “You called and woke me up to tell me that?  What’s going on, Dev?”
    “I can’t tell you now.  Just don’t tell anyone about those safes — or anything else I picked up at the auction today.  Do you hear me, Jason?  Are you awake enough to understand what I’m telling you?”
    “Yeah, Dev.   I hear you.  What’d you find in those cases, anyway?  Secret spy stuff or something?”
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
    “That’s it, Dev.  I’m coming over.  You’re in some sort of trouble,” Jason said, in the most gallant voice he could muster at that hour.
    “No, Jason.  Don’t worry about me.  I’m fine.”
    “How do you know you’re fine, Dev?”
    “Because if anyone else knew about what was in that storage unit, they’d have outbid me for sure.”
    After hanging up, I tore out the two relevant pages from the address book and slipped them into my purse, then replaced the address book and closed the case.  I put all three cases in my closet and shut the door.  For the first time since I bought the boat, it occurred to me that I didn’t have a very secure place to lock anything up.  I slipped out of my clothes and into an oversized T-shirt then climbed into my bunk.  I lay there for what seemed like hours, but when I looked at the clock, only ten minutes had passed.  I heard footsteps on the dock and voices just outside my boat.  My heart began racing.  I held my breath.  The voices stopped —then I heard laughter.  Just a couple of fishermen out for an early start.   Relieved, I slowly let out my breath and closed my eyes.  I needed to relax and get some sleep so I could think straight.  At some point, exhaustion finally took over and I fell asleep. 
    As daylight peeked through my easterly porthole, I reluctantly woke from another dream.  This time, the sweet aroma of Tom ’s café mocha and the mouthwatering taste of his ham, cheese and avocado omelet mingled with the usual smells of morning sea air.  That Tom , he’s such a sweetheart.

 
                 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    I secured the two cases closed with some duct tape I managed to scrounge from my tool kit.  I had come to believe you could fix almost anything if you had enough duct tape, electrical ties, bungee cords, and Super Glue.  My number-one priority would be to get that money to a secure place.  I rented a large safe-deposit box at my bank and tucked it away for safe keeping.  I wanted to know more about the gun before I made any plans for it.
    My friend Joe ran a pawn shop in town.  He had sort of taken me under his wing and made it a point to watch out for me.  When I first came to San Diego, I had been cheated by some pretty unscrupulous dealers.  They convinced me the items I had to sell were basically worthless and offered to take them off my hands for next to nothing — just to save me a trip to the dump.  Then one day I met a man in the Grille who was wearing one of the unique watches I had practically given away to a pawn broker.  He was only too happy to brag about the newly purchased item on his wrist — bought for a mere six