Gauguin Connection, The (37 page)

Francine disappeared into one of the cubicles. I made use of the facilities and met Francine at the marble basins with gold-finished taps. I dried my hands on a small hand towel and dispensed of it in a small wicker basket.

An electronic ping sounded next to me and I glanced at Francine. Her eyes widened in pleasure and she grabbed her tablet computer out of her bag. “Results. We have results.”

“What results?” I lowered my voice when three women entered the room chatting about someone’s weight gain. Francine was tapping and swiping the tablet screen without any awareness of our surroundings. I lowered my voice even more. “Maybe we should leave.”

“Hmm?” She looked up and then focussed on the sofas by the entrance. “Let’s go sit there. I need a moment to check this out.”

I followed her there and sat down next to her. The sofas were not only beautiful, but surprisingly comfortable. It took less than a minute before I became impatient. “Speak to me, Francine.”

“In a moment.” She swiped and tapped a few more times. When she looked up, her eyes were bright. “Who exactly is Kubanov?”

“He’s the founder of the charity organisation hosting this event. Why?”

“Simon Brun is married to his cousin.” She tilted the tablet towards me and pointed at the screen. “I followed the bank accounts like I said earlier. His Hungarian account where his wife is registered also required photo ID of her. There are two more bank accounts with her photo, one as Irene Brun, the other as Irena Kubanov, born in
Volosovo, Russia.”

I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them on a deep inhale. “When you first mentioned her name, I knew I had seen it somewhere. It was on the Foundation’s website. Kubanov said there that his inspiration came from a few people in his life, one of them being his cousin Irena. So, that is the connection between Kubanov and Piros. We need to tell Manny and the others.”

“That’s not all, Genevieve.” Francine changed screens on the tablet. It showed a scanned form of sorts. “I checked the name Simon Brun on Interpol’s database.”

“You can do that?” Understanding hit me when she merely raised her eyebrows. How many agencies was she working for? “Oh, okay. Sorry. Go on.”

“His name was set to send a red alert when searched. I circumvented it.” She waited for two ladies to exit the room before she continued quietly. “Simon Brun was the name used by an undercover agent during the eighties. There is a list here of places he worked, but nowhere does it say who the agent was.”

“We have to tell Manny now.” I got up and took my smartphone from my clutch bag.

It took only two rings before Manny answered. “Where are you?”

“Meet us in front of the ladies’ room. Francine found something,” I said. The rude oaf didn’t even answer me; he just disconnected the call. Francine and I left the restroom and found Manny, Colin and Vinnie huddling next to a large flower arrangement. They were leaning in close in what seemed a heated discussion. I sighed. They were arguing again. It would seem that Manny had already been close by when I phoned him.

I narrowed my eyes on a realisation. When we were close enough, I interrupted Manny. “Why aren’t you sneezing?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said that you suffer severely from allergies to flowers. Why aren’t you sneezing?”

“Because I have really good medication, missy. Now can we get to business?”

“Okay,” I said. “What were you talking about?”

Colin took half a step to the left and nodded at the wall. “What do you see?”

I looked at the beautiful flower arrangement. It held no clues. I raised my eyes and blinked in shock. “Gauguin’s Still Life, The White Bowl.”

“And it’s the real thing,” Colin said. “I’m willing to stake my freedom on it.”

“You still haven’t convinced me.” Manny glared at the painting. “How can you be so sure?”

“While you were arguing, I studied the painting,” Colin said. “Look close enough at the frame and you’ll see that I’m right.”

I stepped closer and focussed on the bottom left corner. “He’s right. You have to look carefully, but I can see where the strip was cut from the painting.”

“I still can’t believe that Danielle would’ve desecrated a masterpiece like this,” Colin said.

“Desperation makes people do strange things, Frey,” Manny said. He looked at me. “Care to share what big new revelations you two ladies got in the restroom?”

I left it to Francine to fill them in and show them the new information on her tablet. For a few precious moments I allowed Mozart to dominate my mind. I took two steps backwards to gain a minimal distance from all the outraged expressions bouncing back and forth within our small group. As it was, I hoped that we could find Piros tonight and end his reign. Not only was he a megalomaniac tyrant, he was also a traitor. And a serial killer.

My gaze drifted away from our group, over the crowd of pretentious people competing to improve their social standing, yet unaware that their presence here put them in association with murderers of the worst calibre. A familiar voice pulled my attention to the left.

About three meters from me stood Manny’s boss, Chief Dutoit, who was deep in discussion with another man. His tailored suit and manicured hands gave him the look of a pampered businessman. Not quite the kind of company a man of Chief
Dutoit’s character would seek out. This anomaly interested me. I paid closer attention. They were conversing in French, arguing about a delayed delivery that could have disastrous financial repercussions.

Next to me, Vinnie and Manny were trading insults, Vinnie about the depth of the corruption in government agencies, Manny about simpleminded criminals. I smiled. They liked each other. Colin and Francine were focussed on her tablet.

My amusement at my group and interest in Chief Dutoit’s discussion were brought to a brutal halt. All it took was one word. A word so softly spoken I could barely believe I had heard it, yet I was convinced that I had. In my mind all the separate elements of this case moved into perfect alignment. One word combined all the loose bits of information to a state of completion where all my observations, analyses and theories into one single conclusion. The answer to all the questions. The innermost gear powering, driving all the others.

Still arguing, Chief Dutoit and the other man started walking away. Without thinking I followed the voice that had uttered that crucial word. Overcrowding, people touching me and my own personal safety no longer mattered. Hearing that word again was all I could think about. Getting it recorded would be even better. With a start I realised that my smartphone, still resting in my palm, enabled me to do exactly that.

I followed them through two rooms. The crowded rooms made it easy to keep some distance between us. It also provided me with an irrational sense of safety. That last thought made me gasp. Colin. Manny. I should not have left like I had. The sudden vibration of my smartphone in my hand nearly had me screaming in fright. Adrenaline pumped through my system, causing me to answer the call with a shaking hand.

“Hello?” I whispered unnecessarily. I was surrounded by conversation and laughter.

“Jenny, where are you?” Colin sounded winded and worried.

“Um, I don’t know. I went through two rooms. They’ve turned left. It looks like a corridor to the back of the house. Maybe to the right side of the house. I really don’t know. I’m following Piros.”

“You’re what?” Manny’s loud voice made me cringe.

“Am I on speaker phone?”

“Yes.”

“I know who he is,” I said just as I broke free of the crowds. I glanced into the long corridor. I took three steps back into the crowd. “I don’t think it would be prudent to continue talking to you. The corridor is rather quiet and they might hear me. I’m switching on my video app and streaming it to your phone. Find me.”

I ignored three male voices yelling all types of orders at me and tapped the mute button. It took only a moment before I connected Colin via video to what I was seeing. Another tap on my smartphone and it was recording. I took a moment to examine my situation and decide on a course of action. First things first. I kicked off my shoes for comfort and stealth. One calming breath and I walked down the long, dimly-lit corridor, my smartphone leading the way.

The men disappeared through an open door into what looked like a library. I stopped next to the door and peeked around the corner. They were standing in front of a solid wooden door against the far wall of the library. Chief Dutoit reached up and took a key from on top of the doorframe. He unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place.

“Let’s go,” he said and followed the other man through the door. The door closed behind them and locked with an audible click. I waited until I thought the men might have moved far away from the door. Still holding the phone in front of me, I walked to the door and reached up. I was too short. An impatient growl escaped my lips as I looked around for something to aid me.

Most of the furniture in the room looked antique and undoubtedly too heavy for me to drag to the door. Except for the small footstool next to a beautiful nineteenth-century wingback chair big enough for me to curl up and sleep in. I dragged the stool to the door and retrieved the key. I pushed the stool away and stared at the key. I didn’t know what would greet me behind that door, but I didn’t want to waste any time waiting for Manny and Colin.

As quietly as I could, I pushed the key into the lock and turned. I winced when it clicked and held my breath. No one came storming through the door, so I pulled the door only a centimetre away from the lock. I left the key under the stool, aiming my phone at it so that Colin would know where to find it. My forte was in the safety of my viewing room, not sneaking around. The shaking of my hands, tightness in my throat and shallow breathing were evidence of that.

It required three deep breaths before I had enough courage to open the door wide enough to look beyond the opening. I was looking at the dark-blue walls of a staircase. Most likely it led to the basement or to a wine cellar. As I slipped through the door and the lock clicked behind me, it felt like I was standing at the top of a staircase leading me to my doom.

The sounds of the party were now mostly muted. The two men’s voices floated up the staircase, which looked uncommonly long going down. I held my phone in front of me like a shield and carefully went down the stairs towards the argument. Two-thirds of the way down, I could distinguish their words.

“This is a disaster,” the other man said. “How did they know our plans?”

“Someone must have talked,” Chief Dutoit said. Visual cues were my strength, but it was easy to hear the contained rage in his words. “It was not anybody on my team. Which leaves only you and your trusted right-hand man.”

I had reached the bottom of the staircase. I stood on the last step and leaned against the wall, hoping that they were not close enough to see me. Straight ahead of the stairs were rows and rows of shelved wine bottles in a softly lit room. The visible plumbing and ventilation pipes running along the ceiling did not take away from the muted elegance of this space. It was a well-maintained cellar. There were even paintings against the walls. Expensive paintings. They probably were all forgeries.

“Sir, it wasn’t us. I would never betray you.” The other man’s thin answer came from the right. I dared a look around the wall and saw them. Chief Dutoit was standing close to the other man. He was leaning forward, almost nose to nose, his one hand on his hip, the other tightened in a fist. The other man’s shoulders were slightly hunched, his eyes wide. “Sir, I’ve been with you for ten years. I believe in what you do. I would never—”

“Who else could it be?” Chief Dutoit interrupted the other man’s stuttering. “Who else would know what we were planning after the award ceremony?”

“Sir, it was on the programme that the artists would go to a retreat after the ceremony.”

Moving only my arm, I pushed my smartphone past the corner of the wall, aiming it at them. I hoped that the lack of background noise would aid the limited capabilities of the phone’s microphone. The bad lighting most likely would not result in good footage.

“That means nothing.” Chief Dutoit’s voice was growing softer and more menacing. I swallowed my nerves away, hoping that Colin would show up soon. What was taking them so long? I glanced at my phone’s screen. Chief Dutoit was towering even closer to the other man now. “I would like to know what led the police to take all the artists into protective custody. That was—”

A hand clamped on my shoulder and I yelped. Loudly. My smartphone fell to the ground in a clatter, but I had no time to worry about my phone. All I could focus on was the terrifying awareness of a sharp blade against my throat.

Not again. Please, not again. I swallowed, too late realising that it would move the blade against my throat and possibly cause damage. All conversation in the cellar ceased.

“What have we here?” the man behind me asked. I blinked in surprise as I recognised the voice of the German thug who had terrorised me in my apartment. He still had his hand on my shoulder and pushed me forward. “Come, let’s introduce you.”

A thousand fragmented thoughts fluttered through my mind. Thoughts of Manny’s anger about me not waiting for them, that I would miss him calling me ‘missy’ when he was annoyed with me. That I would miss Colin’s touch, Vinnie’s protective presence and Phillip’s guidance. I was also growing angrier with myself for being so focussed on the conversation between Dutoit and the other man that I had never even considered paying attention to the staircase. The curse of my single-minded focus.

I was prodded by the hand on my shoulder and the knife to my throat until I stood in front of Chief Dutoit and the other man. My self-aimed anger and the enormity of the situation were far too significant for me to succumb to panic. If only I would
live to tell this story, to face Manny’s anger. I didn’t want this to be my last day on earth. I wasn’t ready to die.

“Doctor Lenard, we meet again.” Chief Dutoit studied me through narrowed eyes.

“Chief Dutoit,” I answered in French. I wanted us to speak in the language that would give me that word again. “I can’t say that this is a pleasure.”

“I found her lurking at the bottom of the staircase, listening to your conversation,” the thug said in accented French. I wondered if he had not seen my smartphone, or whether he considered it broken and thus harmless when it had hit the floor. Was it still streaming and recording?

“You will have to forgive my colleague’s right-hand man for his tactics.” Chief Dutoit nodded at the knife against my throat. “It is only for the safety of the event.”

I considered lying, telling him that I had lost my way. Only for a moment though. My lack of deceptive skills would only anger a man who looked close to the edge. His nonverbal cues were alarming. I had to do something to bring him back from his rage.

I forced my muscles to relax, conveying as little threat as possible. I focussed on calming my breathing so that my voice would be controlled, soothing. “It is quite a large selection of wines here. I’m not a big white wine drinker. Only in summer, maybe with a good salad would I indulge.”

Chief Dutoit stilled, frowned,
then smiled at me. “What do you favour? A merlot? Cabernet sauvignon?”

“My palate prefers a good Pinot noir. I like its purity, its freshness. The notes of damp earth make me feel one with its origins.” I could not believe I was talking about wine while very possibly facing death.

“I also prefer a good red wine.” The tightness in his face and posture lightened a bit. “I prefer a Cabernet sauvignon though. It goes well with my preference for red meat.”

“You really are him,” I whispered. “You are Piros.”

We stared at each other. There was no mistaking his pronunciation of the word red in French. I was in an eye-lock with one of the most notorious criminals in Europe. I was sure that Manny would be able to align Chief Dutoit’s career-tracks with Piros’ activities. Where was Manny?

“Ah, Doctor Lenard, you’ve just earned yourself a death sentence.” Chief Dutoit looked disappointed. He nodded at the German who let me go, but stayed close to me. I couldn’t resist the need to touch my throat. It was unharmed. Chief Dutoit, aka Piros, walked closer until he stood a foot away from me. “You’ve been the most fun I’ve had in years. A worthy adversary. All these years and no one got even close to me.”

“They couldn’t get close to you if you were the one leading the investigation, or the one closing it down.”

“True, true. It pays having worked one’s way up the ladder, making friends along the way. It’s always who you know, not what you know.” His smile sent an uncontrollable shiver down my spine. “Tell me, how did you figure it out? I know it wasn’t that idiot Millard.”

I wanted to, but I didn’t defend Manny. I counted on him not being an idiot so that he could find me and save me from this terrifying ordeal. My hesitation to answer him unfortunately lasted a moment too long. Piros lost his patience and slapped me hard across my left cheek. My head snapped back and I almost lost my balance. When I looked up at him, all I saw past the tears in my eyes was ruthless cold menace.

“How did you figure it out?” His shouted question was as violent an assault on my senses as the slap. I flinched before I could control my panic and my responses with a measure of Mozart.

“Red,” I said past the tightness in my throat. “I heard you say red.”

I focussed on the micro-movements of his facial muscles to keep me grounded. I could see his mind computing what I had just told him until he reached a conclusion. I saw his intent, but it didn’t prepare me. He slapped me viciously across the same cheek as he screamed at me, “Who was it? Who told you where my name came from?”

I tried, but it was too much for me. The picture of Danielle lying in a pool of her own blood flashed across my consciousness followed by disjointed flashes of financial spreadsheets, shipping manifests, flash drives, Vinnie’s smile, Manny’s frown, Francine’s tablet computer. I sank to the floor of the cellar. If I allowed the black void to suck me in, I wouldn’t feel any pain, I wouldn’t fear for my life. It was beckoning me and I was tempted.

But then I wouldn’t be able to tell Manny who Piros was. On a painful breath I imagined Colin holding my hand while I listened to Mozart. The darkness receded and I opened my eyes. I had my arms wrapped around my waist, keening softly and rocking myself. I must have been like this for a few minutes, because Piros was a few feet away from me, barking orders into a cell phone.

The other man was watching me with hatred and disdain on his face. His steady hand was pointing a gun at my head. I looked at my own shaking hands. I wanted to be in my viewing room, not here. If not my viewing room, any other place would suffice. I just wanted to not feel so damned terrified. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the German making his way to the staircase.

“What’s wrong with you?” The other man’s disgusted question brought my attention back.

“I was slapped. Hard. Twice.” I tried to stand up, but he stepped closer and just shook his head. The gun was close enough for me to see into the barrel. I imagined that I could see the tip of the bullet. I swallowed a few times.

“Your weakness sickens me. People like you should not be allowed in public.”

“For once I agree with you, Pierre.” Piros slid his cell phone into his jacket pocket and walked closer. “It’s arranged. I will leave through the back, my transport will pick me up. You can deal with her. You’ll have to keep it quiet though. The place is crawling with police. Just find out what she knows first.”

“It will be my pleasure.” His smile told me what kind of sick pleasure he would get from following Piros’ orders.

“Doctor Lenard.” Piros looked down at me with all the arrogant power he thought he had. “It truly was a pleasurable few weeks watching you work. You’ve caused me great inconvenience, but a new challenge. I will have to regroup, but it is a long-overdue necessity.”

“You won’t get away.” I said it with more conviction than I felt. Surely Manny and Colin should have found me by now. Where were they? Was Piros really going to get away?

“I will.” He smirked. “You won’t.”

Powerless, I watched as he turned away and walked to the back of the basement. Presumably to another door that would lead him to freedom to continue his evil work.

I had to do something. I had to stop this, but I didn’t know how. I wanted to howl with frustration, but didn’t dare do anything with that gun so close to my head.

Suddenly my senses were overwhelmed by the loudest sound and brightest light I had ever encountered. All my frustration, thoughts and desperate plans made place for panic. It felt like a bomb had exploded in the cellar, but I was still alive. I looked for damage, debris flying about but I couldn’t see anything. The loudness of the bang left me totally disoriented. I fell back on the floor, my hands slammed over my ears, screaming soundlessly. My ears were ringing, nausea causing me to curl into a foetal position. An irrational thought crossed my mind that I had never felt more alive.

I forced Mozart into my mind as it threatened to shut down. When strong arms lifted me against a solid chest and gently carried me away, my breathing became erratic. Bile rose in my throat from the fear of being touched. The fear of being carried to a place worse than where I was. I started squirming, but the hands held me tighter. We were climbing the stairs, away from the cellar. Shouted orders barely superseded the ringing in my ears and I felt even more disoriented and scared.