The Courbet Connection (Book 5) (Genevieve Lenard) (8 page)

The duty officer told us the two Interpol agents would come to see us soon. I bit down harder on my jaw and leaned back to prevent myself from giving in to the strong compulsion to tell the young man to take me to Colin. Manny continued to talk about inconsequential things with the officer, making it even harder for me not to express my displeasure at wasting time with such frivolities.

Two minutes later three men came through a door towards the reception area. Two of those men looked like law enforcement officers. Even though they were dressed in slacks and long-sleeved shirts, their postures were unmistakable. Alert and ready to take aggressive action at any time. Between the two men was a man in his late forties. His arms were behind his back, his hands probably in cuffs.

The criminal’s black leather pants were tucked into biker boots, his tight t-shirt untucked and his leather vest unbuttoned. His arms were covered in tattoos—intricate designs that disappeared into his sleeves. His long black hair framed his face, hanging down to below his chest. Something familiar about his face made me take a closer look. If I hadn’t already been pressing my lips together, I might have uttered a loud gasp.

Even though his nose was thicker at the bridge, his cheekbones and lips were unmistakable. Colin was expertly disguised and was only a few feet away from me. He looked unharmed, but I could see it took him extra effort to hide his anger. Keeping Manny’s warning in mind, I didn’t know how to act. I had the ridiculous need to rush over to Colin and feel his arms around me. His touch would reassure me that he was well. I folded my arms tightly around my waist and swallowed a few times.

“Gentlemen.” Manny stepped forward and held out his hand to the man on the left. “Manfred Millard. Thank you for bringing Mister Taylor to me.”

The man shook Manny’s hand, but there was no friendliness visible on his face. “We didn’t bring him to you, Millard. We’re about to transport him to Lyon.”

“Ah, that won’t do.” Manny pointed at Colin. “He’s mine, gents. Why don’t we grab a phone and make a few calls? I’m sure we’ll sort this out in no time.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The other man pulled Colin closer to him, at the same time puffing out his chest.

“That, sonny, is what you’ll find out when you phone your superior.”

The first man was already dialling on his smartphone. “Taylor’s ours, Millard.”

“Make sure you speak to the Secretary-General,” Manny said. “He’ll set you straight.”

The first man spoke into his smartphone, explaining the situation. As soon as he mentioned Manny, he was interrupted by the other person. The colour drained from his face as he nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Immediately, sir.”

He disconnected the call and uncuffed Colin while looking at his partner. “Gotta let him go.”

“Fantastic.” Manny’s smile was not genuine. “Mister Taylor can go with my colleague while the three of us have ourselves a quick natter about this arrest.”

Colin rubbed his wrists and walked to me. Fearing that I might give in to my need to touch him, I turned around and left the police station. Colin’s soft footsteps followed me as I walked down the steps. A quick look around and I saw Vinnie’s truck parked under the trees to the left.

“Jenny?” Colin fell into step next to me as we walked towards Vinnie. “Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat a few times, but still couldn’t get myself to speak. Vinnie noticed us and straightened from where he was leaning against his truck. He looked Colin up and down, and nodded. “In one piece. You okay, dude?”

“I’m fine, thanks, Vin.” Colin turned to me, lowered his head and waited until I looked at him. “Speak to me.”

Much to my annoyance, tears gathered in my eyes. I shook my head, trying to clear it from the irrational concern I’d had. Colin’s life had never been in danger. Why did I feel such intense relief at seeing him free?

“Hey.” Colin took my hands and pulled me closer. His arms tightened around me and he spoke into my hair. “I’m okay, Jenny. It was just a stupid arrest. Nothing bad happened. You and Millard got here fast enough.”

I gave in to this uncommon urge and wrapped my arms around his waist. I held on for a short while, trying very hard to steady my breathing. It took three bars of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in E flat major before I could unlock my arms. I leaned back, still in his arms. “Don’t tell me nothing bad happened. Something happened that made you sound extremely worried and stressed over the phone. That is not nothing.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “You were worried about me.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Why was he thanking me for being worried? “I don’t understand.”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t have to understand everything, love.”

“Okay, dude. Enough lovey-dovey shit. What happened?”

I stepped out of Colin’s embrace, but allowed him to hold my hand. I stared in fascination at the tattoos. He hadn’t had them this morning.

“We were set up, Vin.”

“You sure Maurice didn’t set you up?”

“No.” Colin shook his head. “No, he was just as shocked as I was when we were arrested. And he’s the reason I’m at the police station and not in some car on my way to Interpol’s Headquarters.”

“So what happened?”

“No,” I said. “First tell me about this Maurice Dupin.”

“I’ve been dealing with him for the last eight years, always as Edward Taylor. We have a good working relationship, one built on trust. I can’t believe that he’s part of this. He often brings me artwork to authenticate. A few times I’ve identified them as forgeries and his clients were very pleased that they weren’t swindled. He phoned me last week, wanting to set up a meet. He had a painting he wanted me to look at. Said it was a masterpiece and would like for me to authenticate it.”

“What was wrong with it?” I could see the evidence of it on Colin’s face.

“It’s Gustave
Courbet’s
Nude Reclining Woman
.”

“Courbet? The same dude who painted the painting the kid was shouting about?”

“The same.” Colin rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had been.

“This new painting is causing you concern.” It was clear in his body language.

“An understatement.” He shook his head. “
The Nude Reclining Woman
has gone through some interesting legal battles. It was owned by a Hungarian collector before the Second World War. It vanished after it was looted by the Soviets in 1945 and turned up in 2000. It was offered for sale, but there was such a huge gap in its provenance that the Commission for Art Recovery got involved. It required five years of negotiations and three hundred thousand dollars before that painting was returned to the heirs of the original Hungarian owner.”

“Why is the forgery such a problem, then?”

“Because it was as brilliant as the last three I’d seen. I would bet my bottom dollar that it was done by the same artist. It had the same techniques, the same brushstrokes… I’m convinced it’s the same guy. Maurice said the owner had another five paintings he wanted me to look at. Apparently, this one needed to change hands quickly and we needed to meet today.”

“Dude?”

“No, Vin. I’m not a hundred percent sure that he didn’t set this up, but I really find it hard to believe.”

“How did you land up in the cop house?” Vinnie nodded towards the police station.

“I had just picked up the painting when those two Interpol goons rushed into the back of Maurice’s gallery and arrested us.”

“Maurice Dupin owns a gallery?”

“It’s called hiding in plain sight, Jenny. Anyway, they’d dragged us out of the gallery onto the street when Maurice made a run for it. Two patrol officers happened to be a few metres away and caught Maurice. I managed to convince them that I was not sure how real the Interpol agents were and that I would feel much safer if we all went to the police station.” Colin’s deception skills were exceptional, as were his persuasion skills.

“I’m glad you’re a good liar.”

Both Colin and Vinnie laughed at my honest statement. Siegfried’s Funeral March by Wagner rang loudly from my handbag. I pulled my hand out of Colin’s and glared at him while taking my smartphone from my bag. “Please stop changing my ringtones.”

“This one is funny, Jenny.” Colin smiled when Manny’s face flashed on my smartphone screen. I huffed in annoyance.

I swiped the screen. “Is there a problem?”

“Well, hello to you too, Doc.” When I didn’t respond, Manny grunted loudly. “I’m going to be a while, Doc. You guys can go on home. I’ll phone again in a bit to find out from Fr… Mister Taylor what happened.”

“How long is a bit?”

“As long as it needs to be, missy.” Manny disconnected the call.

I relayed his message to Colin and Vinnie, both happy to leave. The two men spent the whole trip to the office coming up with numerous unfounded hypotheses. By the time I was turning off my computer and preparing my office for tomorrow, I had lost count of the many improbable theories they’d come up with. When Colin hadn’t been able to provide any more facts about the arrest, I’d stopped paying attention. I wondered when Manny was going to phone and what discoveries he would be able to share.

“Courbet was revolutionary. He is known to be an innovator of Realism, his work not fitting into the Romantic or Neoclassical works prevalent at that time.”

“When was that?” Vinnie asked from the kitchen. Colin and I were sitting in the living area, talking about my research earlier today. Vinnie had started cooking as soon as we’d arrived home. The aroma coming from the kitchen was highly appetising.

“Courbet died in 1877 at the age of fifty-eight.”

“Let me guess.” Vinnie dried his hands on a dishtowel. “Drinking too much?”

Colin smiled. “Like a lot of artists, yes. By that time, he’d established himself as a painter not scared of controversy. He took on social issues like the horrid working conditions of the poor and painted them. Later in life he painted a lot of erotic works, ruffling many feathers. One painting was banned from public display because it had two naked women on a bed in an embrace.”

“Dirty old man.” Vinnie chuckled. “Drunk, perverted artist. My kinda guy.”

“He was also prolific. Around five hundred works are credited to him, most of those truly amazing pieces. I’ve seen few forgers able to do his work justice. With the exception of the paintings I’ve recently seen, of course.”

“Dinner is ready.” Vinnie placed a salad bowl on the dining room table. “The old man better not show up here like he
always does around meal times. I didn’t make enough to feed his face as well.”

It had been four hours since we’d left the police station and Manny still hadn’t phoned me. I planned to have a discussion with him about the exact meaning of ‘in a bit’. More importantly though, I was truly curious about what he might have uncovered about Colin’s arrest.

As soon as we’d arrived home, Colin had disappeared into our room. Ten minutes later he’d come out looking like Colin again. I had to give him credit for an expeditious skill at disguising himself.

We got up from the sofa and joined Vinnie at the table. Nikki had phoned him earlier to say she wouldn’t be home for dinner. She was studying with Rebecca and Michael again. After a lifetime of living in isolation, in the last two years I had become used to the constant presence of people in my apartment. I had also become used to Nikki’s infectious smile and light chatter. When she didn’t join us for meals, I missed her presence.

I settled in my usual chair and reached for the salad bowl. The sound of keys in my front door stopped my hand mid-air and I turned to the door, wondering if it was Nikki or Francine. The melodic sound of Francine’s voice reached us before the door opened wide enough to reveal her defensive posture. She was talking to someone out of view to the left of the door. All her nonverbal cues communicated discomfort.

“If you don’t tell me who you are, I’ll phone the police.”

No sooner had Francine said those words than Colin and Vinnie were storming to the door, their postures aggressive. I followed them.

“Tonga is one of seventeen countries without any rivers!” a familiar young male voice shouted. “The Krubera cave in Abkhazia, Georgia is the deepest known cave on Earth!”

Vinnie’s muscle tension decreased significantly when he also recognised Caelan’s voice.

Francine looked at me as she walked past Vinnie and Colin into the apartment. “Do you know this kid?”

I looked into the hallway and recognised the slender, almost gaunt body. “It’s Caelan.”

“
The
Caelan?” Colin asked. The moment he stepped outside the apartment, Caelan started shouting geographical facts louder. “Hey, bud. My name is Colin.”

“Annually, there are more than sixteen million thunderstorms around the globe!”

“Well, that’s actually quite interesting.” Colin’s eyes narrowed as he took a moment to study Caelan. He walked back into the apartment. “You’ll handle him better, Jenny. We’ll be at the table.”