All clear. Silent as well. No background music or TV noise. Nothing. The house felt abandoned.

Wall-to-wall with ornately carved antique furniture, the living room looked like a time warp. Mahogany-paneled walls were adorned with huge oil paintings, some of which he recognized. Possibly one reason why Montez hadn’t rigged explosives. Even being the monster he was, he remained respectful of personal property. The Bonita safe house had been worthless to him, but this? He’d probably spent a good amount of time coveting it. No doubt Montez believed destroying this furniture and art would’ve been a crime against society. The irony almost seemed laughable.

“I’ve seen museums with less inventory,” Harv said, looking around. “What’s this stuff worth?”

“Millions, maybe tens of millions.”

Harv scanned the room. “I don’t think anyone’s here, but we should clear the house.”

“Take the upper floors. Fifteen-second check-ins.”Nathan covered Harv’s advance to the marble staircase before heading into the kitchen. He’d start there and work counterclockwise through the ground floor rooms.

The bathroom off the entry looked fit for Saudi royalty. As he cleared the kitchen, den, billiards room, and two guest bedrooms—each with its own full bath—anger and hatred flared at Montez’s escape. He forced it aside and concentrated. Only one room left, next to the library. Probably a private office.

Its door was closed.

Chapter 36

Chapter  36

“Harv, I need you down here.”

“On my way.”

Ten seconds later, Harv pounded down the stairs. “Upstairs is clear. Took me a while. There are six bedrooms. Each with its own private bathroom and walk-in closet.”

Nathan looked at the closed door. “We need something long enough to sweep above its sill. See if you can find something in the kitchen.” He got down on all fours and sniffed. He detected tobacco odor, probably from cigars. It didn’t smell like cigarettes. No light came from within the room.

Harv returned with a kebab skewer

“That’s perfect.” Using a light grip—just strong enough to keep it from slipping out of his fingers—he inserted the skewer under the door and slowly worked it across the sill at a slight upward angle. “I don’t feel anything.” He handed Harv the skewer. “I’m going to crack the door. Check the entire jamb, head to toe.”

He turned the knob, listening for anything other than the telltale click of the privacy latch disengaging. “Okay, I’m going to crack it half an inch.” Extremely slowly, he pushed the door inward and stopped. He placed his foot at the base of the door and kept pressure against it.

Following his lead, Harv carefully ran the skewer down the jamb from top to bottom. “Nothing,” Harv said. “I didn’t feel anything. I think we’re okay.”

“I’m going to open it half an inch at a time. If anything’s attached, it’s probably looped around the handle, or door stopper.”