I attached tiny leads to the keypad of the first one, connected the other ends to my tactical computer, and let MindReader sort out the combination. Took longer to connect the wires than get the code. The lock obliged by clicking open. I repeated it with the other case and was amused to see that it was the same combination, suggesting that the bags were intended to be swapped.

I was briefly unnerved to discover that each case contained a small explosive device wired to the locks. They were rigged to blow if those locks, or the hinges, were forced. The bombs weren’t big, but they would have very effectively blown me in half had I been less careful.

“God damn,” I said.

In the Woodpecker’s bag, I found lots of money. Six hundred and fifty thousand dollars in bearer bonds. Two bundles of cash in mixed Romanian leu notes bound by rubber bands. I thumbed through the bills and estimated around five hundred grand in lei, which shakes out to a bit over one hundred Gs in American dollars. There were also ten bundles of euros in two and five hundred denominations. About twenty-two thousand euros, which made it just shy of twenty-seven thousand bucks. I figured the euros were a partial payment for Cruella’s team, since they were black marketeers who worked this part of southeastern Europe, while the lei were for paying local help. At the bottom of the bag, I found a burner phone with a single number programmed in. I ran that through MindReader, too, and it accessed a system for wire-transferring much larger amounts. Once a call was made and a certain code typed in, ten million euros would be transferred to a numbered account in the Seychelles. I did not have that code, but I had a whole afternoon ahead of me, so anything at all could happen. I waved a stack of cash at Ghost.

“There’s almost enough here to keep you in doggie treats for a week.”

He wagged at me.

I pointed at the three prisoners. “They’re evil. Bet you want to chomp on them some, dontcha, boy?”

More wags.

My dog is as bugfuck nuts as I am. This is not a news flash.

I opened the other case and found a smaller container inside. White Styrofoam sealed with red biohazard tape. No labels, though, and nothing inside the case or container to indicate what I’d just found.

“Rut roh,” I said in my best Scooby-Doo voice.

I left the tape in place, closed the case, and picked up a syrette.

“Eeny meeny miny moe,” I said, “catch a psychopath by the toe.”

Cruella De Vil lost, and I jabbed her in the arm.

“Wakey-wakey.”