3 The Braque Connection (31 page)

Again Kubanov waved his guns. “Let’s get this started. Everyone except Genevieve and the little girl turn around and slowly walk backwards towards me. If you try anything, Dukwicz will shoot Phillip and strangle Genevieve with his blood-soaked tie.”

I had a view of everyone’s backs. The stiffening of their muscles told me no one agreed with this option. I couldn’t see any way around it. It was clear that Kubanov was applying a battle tactic—divide and conquer. He wanted me separated from everyone else. I didn’t want Phillip to be killed because my friends were trying to protect me.

“Genevieve.” Kubanov waited until I was completely focussed on him. “You know I will do it. And I will enjoy it. Tell your friends to do as they are told.”

“Do it.” My voice came out as a whisper so soft, I had to clear my throat. “Do what he says. Please.”

“Jenny.” Colin spoke softly through his teeth, but the sound travelled through the empty room. Kubanov immediately responded by elbowing Phillip in the stomach. I whimpered.

“This is the very last warning.” Kubanov’s calm demeanour as he faced us was more frightening than the cruelty evident on Dukwicz’s face.

“Please do what he says,” I whispered. Phillip was gasping for air as he pulled himself up. I couldn’t bear making him suffer any more than this.

Slowly, the four people in front of me, my friends, turned around to face me and walked backwards. The dominant expression on their faces was rage. I didn’t think they were only angry with Kubanov. Being powerless would make these strong personalities go on immediate offense. The problem was they couldn’t do anything, not without knowing what was happening behind them.

“That’s enough.” Kubanov said when they were about a metre and a half from him. “Now get onto your knees. On your knees! Now!”

My mind was simultaneously bombarded with information and distracted by intense emotional distress. I couldn’t believe I had just asked my friends to go towards their own execution. The emotions crossing their faces were too many to process. In total contrast, Kubanov’s face rendered very little information. He was moving with difficulty, yet I saw no indicators of pain.

I watched my friends slowly lower themselves onto their knees. Despite their positions, there was not one nonverbal cue of surrender or submission to be seen. Not even on Francine’s pale features. On Kubanov’s face there was no glee, no anger, no disgust, no rage, nothing. It didn’t make sense.

“Join them.” Kubanov waved one of his guns at Phillip, pointing to the others. “On your knees next to them. Dukwicz, you know what to do.”

Until a year ago, I had only studied white-collar criminals. My exposure to malice, murderous intent and psychosis had been purely academic. In a textbook of abnormal criminal psychology, I had once seen a smile as vicious as the one on Dukwicz’s face. He pushed Phillip hard enough to make him stumble forward and fall onto his knees next to Manny. Phillip straightened slowly with as much dignity as he could. He was in pain.

“You.” Kubanov pointed his gun at Nikki, who gasped. “Go join Genevieve.”

Nikki didn’t need a second invitation. She ran to my side and plastered herself against me. The physical contact was distracting, but it also grounded me in a peculiar manner. I moved slightly to put myself in front of her.

“Now isn’t this cosy.” Kubanov moved to the side, giving Dukwicz space. The scarred man was holding the semi-automatic machine gun in his other hand. My five friends had four guns, one of which could shoot dozens of bullets per minute, aimed at their heads. As loud and powerful as I could, I mentally started playing Mozart’s Flute Concerto No. 2 in D Major. I needed as much calming and clarity as I could muster. This concerto gave me both.

“It’s me you want. Let them go.” My voice was stronger than I felt.

“No, my dear Genevieve.” He pointed the gun at Vinnie’s head. I noticed the different-looking surface of a common SIG Sauer. “What I want is not to let you die. I want you to watch your friends die. Then you can live the rest of your life with that image in your mind. You can spend hours listening to your beloved Mozart, wondering how you did not see that I was setting this up for you to come to me. How you did not figure out that I was going to fuck with your genius little head by erasing the only people in your life you care about. How you will be the reason they are all dead.”

“Why do you want me to suffer?”

“Why not?” He laughed and unsurprisingly started coughing. His throat sounded raw. I wished for Manny’s experience, Phillip’s wisdom and Colin’s charm. I had none of that. All I had was my skills and those were failing me. I couldn’t read Kubanov’s expressions. He smiled, but the muscle movement was not right. He caught his breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I had myself a little treat this morning. Want to know how I spoiled myself?”

The change in his voice told me that there was more to the word ‘spoiled’ than a luxury activity. He was waiting for my answer.

“How did you spoil yourself?”

“I went for a rather expensive cosmetic treatment. The woman was quite confused why I wanted Botox injected all over my face.” He tilted his head and gave another strange smile. I couldn’t interpret it. “I spoiled myself for you. You can’t read me. You see how well I know you? I also know that you don’t have a relationship with your parents, so doing something wicked to them wasn’t going to touch you. But these… these people? Well, them you like. Maybe you even love them. I don’t know why you would, but I’ve seen the way you look at them. They are your weakness. These people and your mind.”

I felt paralysed. Not from my inability to read him, but from fear for my friends. Kubanov moved away from Vinnie, but both the guns in his hands were still pointed at the kneeling people facing me. Their expressions I could easily read, but I didn’t want to. I had seen the trust on all of their faces and it was too much responsibility to carry. Narrowing my focus on Kubanov alone made the situation marginally more bearable.

“Yes,” he continued, glee in his voice, but not on his face. “I knew taking away your only weapon would turn you into a non-equal. You can’t read my face and that is making you suffer. You don’t know what to do, do you?”

“No, I don’t. You’re right. I have nothing without my skills. At this moment, I only understand your words.” When my lie came out weak and believable, I almost cried.

People think they only communicate with facial expressions and hand gestures. They forget about the rest of their bodies. A lot of people learn to control the typical folding of arms or putting of hands on hips, but no one can control innate gestures. Tiny cues that were telling me Kubanov was really planning on killing my friends. Changing my focus from his face to the rest of his body empowered me. It gave me irrational hope that I could turn this situation around.

“Your body is dying, and you would like to blame someone else for this. I am an easy, convenient target.” I ignored Manny’s soft, but sharp intake of air. “What cancer do you have?”

“Esophageal cancer, stage four. It has spread.”

“Prognosis?”

“I have a few months at most.” His laugh was wheezy, painful. “I knew I wouldn’t live forever, but I expected to die at the hand of someone else. Some young upstart killing me to take over from me. Not my body turning against me.”

“I am—”

“No. Enough psychobabble from you. Your intellect makes you fun to talk to, but you distract me from my true purpose.” He pushed the gun in his right hand against the back of Colin’s head. “Who cares what little bits of information you want from me? I’m not going to confess all my sins to you, Genevieve. No. I’m going to kill your friends one by one and you are going to tell me which one to start with.”

I didn’t know if the trembling I felt was from Nikki moving further behind me or from my own body bowing under the mental stress. Kubanov had found the perfect plan to not only torment me, but very possibly break my fragile mind. I could never make a decision such as he expected and live with that. No amount of rationalisation would ever heal the wounds inflicted. Darkness beckoned me to its safe comfort.

“Genevieve!” Kubanov was pointing his gun at Francine’s head now. I had not seen him move. Whether strength or fear, I didn’t know, but I managed to push away the panic, pull back my shoulders and look at Kubanov. He stroked Francine’s hair with the gun barrel. “This one first? She’s a good hacker, but apart from that she’s pretty useless. Did you know she changed her last will and testament to include you?”

He waited until I shook my head. I dared a look at Francine’s face. Once she had told me that she was not scared of dying. I didn’t see fear. I saw anger, determination and trust. I didn’t want her to die.

“Or shall we start with Phillip?” He slowly walked past my friends. “Vinnie? Maybe Manfred Millard would be a good start. I understand he’s always shouting at you. Hmm. No. I think we should maybe start with your lover. I’m still deeply disappointed that you coupled up with him. It would be a great joy for me to kill him first. I will finish the work I wasn’t able to when he visited me. But I will leave the choice up to you, Genevieve. Who shall I kill first?”

My breathing was shallow and staggered. Gone was my ability to observe situations objectively, process the information, analyse it and make clearheaded decisions. All I could think of was how these people kneeling and looking at me with trust had changed my life. They had given me acceptance. They had given me friendship. They had given me a birthday party. 

“Genevieve?” He pointed the guns from one to the next head. “Tell me who I should kill first. Choose.”

I shook my head. I wanted this to end so we could all go to my apartment. Vinnie would cook and argue with Francine about spices. Manny would insult Colin and discuss politics with Phillip, and I would fret about fingerprints on my pristine surfaces. I wanted to go home and tell Colin how much I trusted him, how much I needed him. That I loved him.

It was that knowledge, that desire to tell Colin that brought clarity to my thinking. In Kubanov’s sad desperation, he was attempting to take back control of his life. Cancer had taken his future from him, also his power. By forcing me to decide which friend was to die first, he was regaining a form of power. I didn’t want to give him that. I didn’t want him to know exactly how terrified I was at this moment. If I denied him that pleasure, the only power he had left was his guns.

“Choose!” Kubanov pushed the gun hard against Colin’s skull, moving his head forward.

“No.” The word came out barely audible. I didn’t know if I could act on my assessment. I might deny him the psychological power he wanted over me, but he still had a gun—a gun that could kill my friends. My breath stuttered. I swallowed. “I won’t… I will not choose. I refuse.”

“You refuse?” His hands were shaking from the effort of aiming the two weapons for an extended period. He was the one who was weak—physically, but especially psychologically. He took two steps back, his guns aimed at Colin and Phillip. Dukwicz stepped to the side and back, placing him in the doorway. His body was communicating cues that he was planning to leave. I didn’t have time to think about that. Kubanov took another step back. “Hmm. This is a good distance, I think. Now I won’t get any brain matter on my shoes.”

There was no warning contraction of the
orbicularis oculi
muscles under his eyes, no facial indicators, no other nonverbal cues. He just readjusted and pulled both triggers.

An inhuman scream tore from my throat as darkness rushed in at me. I fought it back so I could protect my other friends. I wouldn’t let Kubanov kill more people. Not the ones I cared for. It took me only a heartbeat or two to regain control. When I was able to refocus, the scene in front of me was confusing.

No one was on their knees anymore. Vinnie and Colin were on top of Kubanov, who was lying on the floor screaming. Francine had dropped and rolled to the side, and Phillip was sitting on his heels, cradling his arm. Dukwicz was gone, Manny too.

They were all alive. How that happened, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had failed them. My analysis, my actions had nearly got them killed. The guilt combined with the relief of seeing everyone still alive took all the power from my legs. I sank to the floor, my entire body shaking. I could feel the blackness, the rocking and keening looming, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off my friends. My alive friends. A millisecond before the blackness won, I irrationally wished for one of Vinnie’s breakfasts.

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

“Jenny. Love, we’re safe.”

It was a scene that had played out many times before. Colin was rubbing my arms, calling me out of the warm, comforting darkness. I opened my eyes to movement and chaos around me. My breath caught and my heart sped up.

“Hey. Don’t worry about them. Just focus on me.”

I tore my eyes away from all the black-uniformed figures moving in and out the ballroom. Colin was sitting against the wall of the room. I was on his lap, cradled against his chest. My throat was hurting as if I had been keening loudly for an extended period. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my torso in a full self-hug. I cleared my throat. “How long?”

“You’ve been out for two hours.”

“You’re alive.” I looked him over, but couldn’t see any injuries apart from the bruising he had acquired fighting with Vinnie. “How is that possible?”

“Kubanov had two printed guns.” Colin’s smile was genuine. And malicious. “The piece of shit printed guns for himself, one of which exploded in his hand. He lost most of his fingers on that hand.”

“And the bullets? Where did they go?” I was feeling awkward trying to see Colin’s face while sitting on his lap. “Um, can we stand?”

“If you feel up to it.”

I nodded and got up. Only if I was in a shutdown would I sit on a floor this dirty. Even though my legs felt unsteady, I preferred to stand. “The bullets?”

“The one aimed at me hit the wall over there.” He stood up with ease and pointed at a wall between two tall windows. “He shot at me first. That was the gun that exploded in his hand. The shock made him pull the other trigger in reflex, or so Vinnie and Millard think. The gun was aimed at Phillip, but the shot went wide and nicked his arm. It’s only a superficial scratch. The paramedics already got him sorted out.”

The fortuitous turnout of that event was hard to comprehend. “Where is Kubanov?”

“Under heavy guard in hospital. Manny vowed to make sure he gets out of hospital and into a solitary confinement cell as soon as possible.” He took both my hands in his and pressed them against his heart. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, love. Are you okay?”

I didn’t know. Watching two of the most important people in my life being shot, thinking they were going to die, was not something I had thought to ever deal with. How did one process such an experience?

“Are you sure Kubanov is under guard?”

“There’s no way in bloody hell he’s getting away, Doc,” Manny said from behind me. I turned. On his face was not only concern, but his usual expression lines were more pronounced.

“If Kubanov is locked up, I will be okay.” I hoped. The movement around us was distracting. Something about the body language of the people in the room caught my attention. “What or who are they looking for? Oh wait, where is Dukwicz?”

The lines around Manny’s mouth deepened. “The bastard is gone. And he took a bunch of printers with him.”

“When Kubanov’s gun exploded, Dukwicz ran out,” Colin explained. “Millard followed him into a hidden passageway—”

“—which GIPN obviously didn’t find.” Manny grunted. “It was a door behind a door going to a tunnel parallel to the basement. To top it off, the tunnel is lined with a layer of glass that makes it impossible to catch their heat signatures while they are there. Bloody Russians and their secret tunnels.”

“Why didn’t you catch him or shoot him?” It was hard to believe I was asking questions containing such violent action.

“My little revolver was like a fart against his submachine gun thunder.” He nodded when I smiled at his analogy. It was amusing in a dark way. “He got away from me, jumped in a van packed with boxes and raced away. I phoned Daniel, who got GIPN back here. Dukwicz disappeared. There is a continent-wide alert out on him, but if they couldn’t find a trace of him with all the cameras in this city, then I’m not holding out much hope.”

“What was in the boxes? Did you see?”

“Oh yes, I saw, Doc.” His lowered brow and flaring nostrils indicated anger. “Bloody 3D printers. The tunnel leads to the house across the street. In the basement are the printers we’ve been looking for. The problem is there are only a thousand two hundred and something printers. Dukwicz can’t have fitted more than one hundred printers in that van, so we don’t know where the other two hundred-odd printers are.”

“This is not good.”

“No, Doc, it isn’t. A killer-for-hire possibly now has the tools to print at least one hundred single-use guns a day. That is not good at all.”

“Can we go now?” a soft voice asked from behind Colin. I looked past him and down. Not far from where we had been, Nikki hugged her knees to her chest, a small figure on the floor.

“Why is she still here?” As soon as I asked this, Nikki’s expression told me that my tone had been too harsh. I inhaled deeply. “I’m wondering why no one took you to a safer, more comfortable place.”

“She refused to leave.” Colin moved to stand next to me, holding one of my hands in a tight grip. He was smiling at Nikki. It was genuine, warm. “Not even Vinnie could convince her to go help him cook. She kept me company. We had a really nice chat.”

I looked at Nikki, not sure what to think. Even though there was a wealth of growth in the pre-frontal cortex of the teenage brain, it was hugely underdeveloped. Adolescents were not astute in weighing outcomes, forming judgements and controlling impulses and emotions. Yet from the little I had observed in Nikki, I didn’t think she was a typical teenager. That was partly what confounded me. The other part was the trust written in her nonverbal cues when she looked at me.

“Yeah, but now I’m really hungry.” She stood up. “And I would like to leave this place. It’s creepy and it bites, like big time.”

I didn’t understand all of her wording, but the meaning was clear. “Vinnie is cooking?”

“And Francine has gone to help him,” Colin said with a smile. “Phillip went home to change, but he’ll meet us for dinner. Vinnie and Francine didn’t appreciate being in such close proximity to dozens of law enforcement officers. They left as soon as they felt everything was under control.”

Manny grunted and mumbled something under his breath. “Well then, let’s go. Nikki is not the only one who’s hungry. That criminal had better have made enough food.”

They didn’t give me time for any more questions, or to greet and thank Daniel. Manny stalked ahead of us out the house to his car. Colin had an unbreakable grip on my hand, leading me out of the mansion and waiting impatiently for me to get into his SUV. Nikki followed us silently and was in the backseat before I got in the vehicle.

On the way home, Colin told me how quickly GIPN and the paramedics had arrived. I smiled when he told me Francine had insisted that the paramedics leave Kubanov to bleed to death. Apparently she had cursed a lot without once apologising to Nikki. That elicited a derisive snort from the backseat. 

It was a feeling of great relief that settled over me when we stopped in front of my apartment building. Manny parked behind us and we went up to my apartment together. It was a novel experience to have Manny and Colin this close and not exchanging insults.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Manny said as we walked into my apartment. He scowled at the food Vinnie was putting on my dining room table. “It’s bloody half past nine at night.”

“If you want to eat something else, go somewhere else, old man.” Vinnie put a serving plate with cheeses on the table. I didn’t know how he had known, but Vinnie was busy cooking breakfast. He smiled at me. “Good to see you, Jen-girl.”

“Hey girlfriend,” Francine called from the kitchen. “I’m making tea. I don’t think we need coffee or any more stimulation.”

Phillip was seated at the table. With the exception of his injuries, not a hair was out of place. I walked to him, studying his face. “Are you well?”

“I might have a few more grey hairs, but I’m fine.” His smile turned into a wince when his muscle movement jolted the cuts on his cheeks. Small butterfly plasters covered both wounds, bruises already starting to show. He lowered his head. “I’m really fine, Genevieve. Are you?”

I sat down in the chair opposite his and dropped my face into my hands. Not only did I want to hide my expressions from their concerned looks, but I didn’t want to cry in front of them. They seemed so strong, so normal. Having everyone in my apartment brought home how dire the situation had been. How different the outcome could have been. How my actions had almost caused their deaths. I seldom indulged in hypothesizing possible and probable outcomes, but this moment was too overwhelming.

A chair was moved closer to mine and familiar arms pulled me closer. I buried my face in Colin’s chest, my whole body shaking with silent sobs. It took a few minutes and a whole page of Mozart’s Flute Concerto in D Major to feel ready to face everyone. After a few shaky breaths, I straightened.

“What do you need from us?” Colin asked quietly, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

“Normality.” I needed my routines. I needed to know these people were safe, no matter how annoying their behaviour was at times. I looked at Colin. “I need you.”

“You have all of us, Jenny.” A soft smile smoothed out the tense lines around his eyes and mouth. He leaned closer. “And you have me. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh hell. Just kiss her and get it over with, Frey.” The discomfort in Manny’s voice chased away the last of my tears. I shifted in my chair, moving away from Colin. Manny shook his head. “No? Well then, let’s eat.”

The normality of sharing a meal in my apartment with them settled my turbulent emotions. I knew it would take some time for me to work through the impact of the last year, this week, and especially this day’s events.

“So Doc, what do you think?” Manny looked at me and I saw he knew I had not been listening. He was going to have to repeat his question. “Putting those bombs in the frames was smart, but having those underpaintings wasn’t. What if we had looked at the underpaintings with x-rays from the very beginning? We would have caught on to his plan much sooner.”

“There are a lot of what-ifs, Manny.” Phillip only spoke that slowly when he was warning me to think before I spoke. This time his warning was directed at Manny. “There is no sense in blaming anyone.”

“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m asking Doc why Kubanov would have done something so stupid.”

I considered my answer before I spoke. “Either he did it in the hope that we would find it. He would’ve gotten pleasure from our fear alone. It also would’ve served as another clue in the game he was playing with us.”

“Or?”

“Or he became careless. Over the course of this case, there were a few instances when I thought him to have been surprisingly negligent. But even that could’ve been strategic.”

Manny pushed out his bottom lip, nodding slowly. He put a croissant on his plate with jerky movements. “To make us think he was changing or losing his mind when he wasn’t. Not that I care anymore. He’s going to be alone until his cancer kills him. I will make sure he has no access to media. He will not be able to enjoy any coverage his case is going to get.”

“Good.” Dying in obscurity would be true punishment for Kubanov. I also reached for a croissant, and wondered where Vinnie found fresh croissants at this time of the night. He came from the kitchen with another basket of croissants and a jar of juice. He sat down next to Nikki, and winked at her. Surrounded by this many alpha personalities, she was quiet and watchful.

“Doc?” Manny looked annoyed. “I’m not a face-reader like you, but are you feeling guilty?”

I couldn’t control the shiver that went down my spine.

“You are!” Manny leaned forward and shook a knife at me. “For someone so smart, you can be really daft sometimes.”

“Manny.” Phillip’s voice was low.

“No, she needs to listen carefully to me. I’ve been in this a lot longer than you. I’m the expert here. And I know that Kubanov would’ve pulled those triggers no matter what you said. You also know this. It is not your fault, Doc. None of us are to blame. He is just a sick fucker that is now going to die alone.”

It was quiet in my flat. I considered Manny’s words and knew them to be true. Yet I knew that I was going to analyse this whole case to see if I could have done anything differently. I had to agree that the only person to blame was Kubanov. I stopped rubbing my upper arms as if I was cold and looked at Manny. “Thank you for saying that.”

“He’s right, Jenny.”

“I know. I just wish your lives were never in danger.” I didn’t know if I would ever get the image of my friends on their knees out of my mind.

“I spoke to the president tonight.” Manny’s change of topic stopped my train of thought. “He personally wanted to thank me—thank us—for catching Kubanov, and so eliminating a threat to him and his wife personally.”

“And his son,” I said.

“Yes, his whole family. Well, the president was so impressed with our work that he called in the head of Interpol. They agreed that we should remain a team.” All eyes were on Manny as he took a bite of toast and egg. He chewed a few times and swallowed the food down with some orange juice. Someone should tell him about the dangers of not chewing one’s food properly.

“Goodie for them.” Francine leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “They may agree all they want. It doesn’t mean we agree.”